Semua Bab The reluctant vow: Bab 151 - Bab 160

ZARA’S WALK-IN CLOSET – DAYThe closet is quiet, softly lit by daylight pouring in through frosted windows.Zara stands still in a sea of fabric and silence, her fingers trailing across a row of untouched maternity gowns—silk, chiffon, jewel-toned elegance she’d once imagined wearing with pride.She pauses at one gown, deep emerald green with gold detailing around the neckline. Regal. Untouched.Her phone buzzes beside her on the vanity.ON SCREEN: KEMI (on video call), lying in bed with a bonnet and no makeup, but eyes sharp.KEMI(eyebrows raised)Girl, I know you’re not just standing there sulking in silence. Show me what we’re working with.ZARA(sighs, barely smiling)It all feels performative. Like… what’s the point?KEMI(firmly)The point is, the world is watching. You want them to remember who the real wife is? Then dress like it. No tears. No weakness.Zara turns slightly, holding the emerald gown up to her frame. It fits the vision—poised, powerful, unapologetically present

IMANI’S SUITE – NEXT MORNINGThe suite is immaculate, sunlight filtering through cream curtains and bouncing gently off polished surfaces. The faint hum of soft classical music plays in the background—an intentional choice. A pristine bottle warmer hums beside the crib, where the baby sleeps soundly wrapped in a pale blue swaddle.Imani stands before her vanity, a vision of curated serenity. Her silk robe drapes effortlessly over her figure, chosen not for comfort but for aesthetic effect. Her dark curls have been carefully fluffed and pinned to frame her face just right. She’s applying the final touch of nude lip gloss, studying herself in the mirror with a gaze that shifts between reflection and strategy.Behind her, the door creaks open gently. The nanny steps in, speaking in a hushed voice so as not to wake the baby.NANNYThe housekeeper said Mr. Regan passed through earlier… I think he’s on the other wing now.Imani’s hand stills over her lips. Her eyes flick up, meeting her ref

KAREEM MANSION – FRONT GATE – MORNINGThe sun rises high over the estate, washing the gates in golden light. A black van pulls up quietly, marked with a discreet logo: “Verité Media Group.” The sliding door opens and two young men with camera rigs, a makeup artist, and a stylist step out. One checks his clipboard.CAMERA GUY(looking around)This is the place. Let’s set up quick. She said it was hush-hush.They approach the gate. The gateman, in his olive uniform, steps forward, narrowing his eyes.GATEMANYes?CREW MEMBERWe’re here to see Miss Imani. She’s expecting us.INT. KAREEM MANSION – MAIN FOYER – CONTINUOUSThe gateman, seated at his desk, leans forward with mild suspicion. He sees the crew through the security monitor—cameras, mics, rolling bags.He squints.GATEMAN (into intercom)Wait make I confirm something.He reaches for the landline to call the main house—The gate phone buzzes inside.The house phone rings on the side table near the stairs. The housekeeper, dressed

The room is quiet again—but it’s no longer serene. It’s the kind of silence that comes after a storm, when something destructive has been unleashed and there’s no taking it back.Imani stands frozen in front of her phone, which is still mounted on the tripod. The screen stares back at her—comments pouring in, hearts flashing, emojis dancing like sparks from a wildfire.But she doesn’t see any of it.Her hand hovers above the “End Live” button. She had gone live with fire in her veins, ready to scorch the world with her truth. Ready to expose the Kareems, to paint Regan as the controlling husband, to reclaim her narrative.And at first, it worked.The views climbed quickly. People tuned in. Names she recognized. Blue checks. Influencers. Even a celebrity gossip page joined in.She’d said all the things she rehearsed in her head. About being pushed aside. About being erased. About the truth of her daughter’s paternity. Her voice was steady, her words sharp. She’d looked directly into th

ZARA & REGAN’S LIVING ROOM – EARLY AFTERNOONThe house was calm now, the midday light pouring in through sheer drapes that softened the room in a golden glow. The quiet hum of the air conditioner and the occasional chirp from outside were the only sounds in the background.Zara collapsed into the corner of the cream-colored sectional, legs tucked beneath her, one hand gently massaging her ankle. She’d kicked off her shoes the moment they got in. Her makeup was slightly smudged from sweat and movement, but it didn’t take away from her glow. If anything, it made her look even more radiant—like someone who had worked hard for her joy and earned every glimmer of it.She had changed into a soft robe, her hair now in a loose bun, little curls escaping around her face. Regan walked in from the kitchen with two glasses of juice and handed one to her before sinking onto the couch beside her. He leaned back with a sigh, glancing over at her camera resting on the coffee table.REGANThat shoot w