บททั้งหมดของ The reluctant vow: บทที่ 161 - บทที่ 170

IMANI’S SUITE – NIGHTImani stood by the floor-length window, phone clutched in one hand, glass of untouched rosé in the other. Her gaze was glued to the screen, jaw locked. On it: Zara’s face. Over and over again. Posing. Smiling. Glowing.@ZaraTOfficial“Reclaiming my body. Reclaiming my story. Modeling, motherhood, magic.”She could barely read the caption without tasting bile.Her reflection in the glass shimmered against the night skyline. The woman staring back at her was stunning, but in that moment, she looked older—tighter around the mouth, colder in the eyes.IMANI(reading aloud, mockingly)“Reclaiming my story.” Oh please.A hesitant knock at the suite’s double doors broke her concentration. She didn’t answer. Seconds later, her assistant slipped in quietly, holding a tablet.ASSISTANTYou asked for the analytics. Zara’s post is on track to break a million impressions by midnight. Engagement’s high. Mostly praise.Imani didn’t look away from her phone. She scrolled through

ZARA & REGAN’S BEDROOM – MORNINGThe early morning light crept softly through the curtains, casting a warm golden hue across the bedroom walls.The world outside had begun to stir—birds calling faintly, the distant hum of traffic returning to life—but inside, the air was still, thick with the residue of a night that hadn’t truly ended.Zara stirred under the sheets, her eyes blinking open slowly. For a moment, she forgot where she was. Then it all came rushing back.The shoot. The post. The text.She sat up gradually, hand resting on her stomach, the familiar swell grounding her. Her phone was still on the nightstand where she’d dropped it the night before. Now it buzzed relentlessly, flashes of light dancing against the wood every few seconds.She hesitated before picking it up.Regan was already awake, propped up against the headboard, a pillow tucked behind his back. A laptop sat on his thighs, half-closed, and his own phone lay face-down beside him. He glanced at her from over the

IMANI’S SUITE – AFTERNOONSunlight filtered through sheer ivory drapes, spilling across Imani’s pristine room like gold dust. The space was curated—intentional. A white sectional draped in designer throws. A muted abstract painting hung tastefully behind her. A tray with cut fruit and untouched tea rested on the glass table. Her phone was set up on a small tripod, ring light softly illuminating her face.Imani sat poised—dressed in an off-shoulder cream blouse, hair swept back into a neat chignon, makeup soft and camera-ready. A pair of delicate pearl earrings shimmered just enough to draw attention but not steal it. She stared at her reflection on the screen for a long beat before hitting “Go Live.”Within seconds, the numbers began to climb.200 viewers… 420… 900… 1.3K.She gave it five seconds more, then smiled—an expression that read as warm but didn’t quite reach her eyes.IMANIHey, my loves. I wasn’t going to go live today, but my heart is just so full. I’ve been seeing a lot o

PODCAST STUDIO – WAITING AREA – LATE MORNINGThe reception area was cool, clean, and quiet. The soft hum of a ceiling fan rotated above them, a low rhythm against the distant murmur of voices and studio equipment behind a closed door. A plant sat in the corner, barely alive, like it too was waiting for something to happen.Regan sat in one of the low, minimalist chairs, legs crossed at the ankle, elbows resting lightly on the armrests. He wasn’t scrolling. He wasn’t pacing. Just… watching. Watching nothing and everything.Across from him, Kemi typed away on her phone, fielding DMs and email offers with a mix of grace and speed. Every few minutes she’d look up and smirk at something she saw online.A group of media freelancers and paparazzi, who’d somehow caught wind of Zara’s arrival, began filming subtly from the far sidewalk. Zoomed lenses captured angles that would soon be dissected online: Regan adjusting Zara’s sleeve before she entered, brushing something from her back, and then

ZARA’S INSTAGRAM LIVE – LATE NIGHTThe room was dim, quiet—just the gentle hum of a fan in the corner and the soft flicker of a single candle Zara had lit beside her laptop. She sat cross-legged on the floor of the living room, in one of Regan’s oversized hoodies and her favorite old pajama bottoms. Her face was bare. No lashes. No gloss. Just her.The phone leaned against a stack of books, angled just right to capture her in that warm pocket of candlelight. She tapped the screen, and the red circle blinked to life.Live.Zara_Kareem has gone live.Viewers: 48… 96… 212… 402…The numbers rose, but Zara barely glanced at them. She tucked a loose curl behind her ear, exhaled slowly, and smiled—not the dazzling, camera-ready smile, but the small, unsure one. The kind that only surfaces when someone is doing something new, something honest.She leaned closer, resting her arms on her knees.ZARA“Hey… I wasn’t sure I’d do this tonight. I’ve been sitting here for, like… thirty minutes just s