Chapter 12: A Heart That Hurts
Word Count: 500+ | Themes: Emotion, Vulnerability, Love Without Intimacy
Zara sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the letter she had found in the library.
Leena's words were burned into her brain:
> "If I disappear… tell Zara it wasn't an accident."
Why her? Why had Leena written her name specifically?
Zara's hands trembled. Her breathing was uneven. Nothing made sense anymore. Every step deeper into this family pulled her further into the unknown.
She had come here for her father. To protect him.
But now it felt like she was the one who needed protection.
From the truth.
From the lies.
From Ameer.
---
The door creaked open behind her, but she didn't turn. She didn't need to. She already knew it was him.
"I heard you found something," Ameer said quietly.
Zara held up the letter without facing him. "Why did she write to me? Did she know I'd marry you one day? Was it planned?"
Ameer stepped closer. "She wrote that before she died. Before I ever met you."
"Then why does it feel like everything was already set in motion before I even entered this house?"
He was silent.
Zara finally turned, eyes full of unshed tears. "Did you love her, Ameer?"
"Yes," he said, without hesitation.
"Do you still love her?"
Ameer looked away. "I don't know what I feel anymore."
Zara's voice cracked. "Then what am I doing here? What are we doing?"
Ameer walked to her slowly, knelt in front of her, and gently took her hand.
"I didn't choose this," he said softly. "But I don't regret it either."
She blinked. "You don't regret marrying me?"
His eyes found hers. "I regret how I treated you. But you… you've brought something back into my life I thought I buried with her."
Zara swallowed hard. "And what's that?"
"Hope."
Her tears finally fell.
She hadn't expected those words.
Not from him.
Not tonight.
Ameer reached up and wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb, his touch gentle for once. No games. No threats. Just a man… trying to say what he didn't know how to say.
Zara leaned into his hand without thinking.
"I'm tired of fighting you," she whispered.
"Then don't," he replied. "Fight with me."
They didn't kiss.
They didn't touch beyond that single moment.
But in that silence, something shifted between them.
Not love.
Not yet.
But the beginning of something real.
And maybe, just maybe, that was more powerful than anything else.