Amira didn't move. For a full minute, she lay nestled against Idris, her cheek against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. It felt surreal—comforting and terrifying at the same time. She had spent so many mornings waking up alone, bracing herself for silence, for absence. But not today. He was here, warm and real, the scent of his skin still wrapped around her like a quiet promise.
She tilted her head to look up at him. His eyes were closed, lashes resting like delicate fans against his skin. There was something boyish about him in sleep, something softer than the cold, sharp man the world saw. She traced the edge of his jaw with her eyes, memorizing the way the early light kissed his features. And just as she thought he might still be asleep, his lips curved faintly.
"You're staring again," he murmured, voice raspy with sleep.
Amira smiled. "You're not exactly easy to look away from."
His eyes opened slowly, dark and unreadable, but there was a tenderness in them now, the kind that unraveled her defenses. He reached up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Morning, wife."
She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks flushed anyway. "Still playing that card?"
"Until the contract ends," he said, a ghost of a smirk touching his lips. "And maybe… even after."
Her breath caught. It was the way he said it—carefully, cautiously, like testing the weight of new truth. She didn't know what scared her more: the idea of staying married to him or the idea of this ending.
"I should get ready," she said, pushing the blanket off and swinging her legs over the side of the bed.
"Stay," he said suddenly.
She turned to him, surprised. "Stay?"
"Just for a little longer." He reached out and caught her hand. "The world can wait."
His words were quiet, but they held gravity. And something inside her softened. She slipped back under the covers, and he pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her waist. For a few more moments, they existed only for each other, with no expectations, no contracts, no masks.
Eventually, the world did intrude. The sharp buzz of his phone cut through the silence. Idris groaned and reached over to grab it, scanning the screen with a grimace.
"Emergency at the office?" Amira asked, already knowing the answer.
"Something like that." He sat up, raking a hand through his hair. "We've got a board investor flying in from Dubai. They moved the meeting up."
She watched him pull his cold CEO persona back on like a well-tailored suit. Gone was the vulnerable man from just moments ago. In his place was Idris Khan, composed, unreadable, powerful.
"I'll get out of your way," she said, reaching for her robe.
He paused, halfway through buttoning his shirt. "You're not in my way, Amira."
She gave him a small smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. "That's sweet of you to say."
He stared at her for a moment, as if debating whether to speak. Then he crossed the room and stopped in front of her. "I meant what I said last night."
She looked up at him, searching his face. "Which part?"
"All of it. Especially the part where I said you scare me." He hesitated. "Because you do. But you also make me want to stay."
Before she could respond, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. "I'll see you tonight."
And just like that, he was gone.
The house felt quieter after Idris left. Amira padded into the kitchen, barefoot, pouring herself a cup of tea. She sipped slowly, staring out the window, her thoughts tangled in the space he had left behind. There was a strange ache in her chest—a longing that had no name, no solution.
It wasn't just attraction anymore. She had grown used to his presence, to his silence that wasn't always cold, to the way he watched her when he thought she wasn't looking. He had become… familiar. And that terrified her.
Her phone buzzed.
Zara: You alive? Need brunch and gossip.
Amira smiled and typed back quickly. Give me 30 mins. Same place?
By the time she reached the café, Zara was already seated, sunglasses perched dramatically on her head like a crown. "Well, well, well," Zara said, grinning. "Look who's glowing."
"I'm not glowing," Amira muttered, slipping into the seat across from her.
"You are positively radiant, babe. I take it Mr. CEO finally unthawed?"
Amira bit her lip, heat rising to her cheeks. "Let's just say… we had a moment."
Zara squealed. "Yes! Tell me everything."
Amira laughed and recounted the rooftop, the walk, the kiss, waking up in his arms. She didn't tell her everything—some things still felt too fragile to expose—but she told enough. Zara listened with wide eyes, then leaned back with a satisfied sigh.
"I knew it," she said. "You two have chemistry. Like, ridiculous chemistry. But be careful, Amira."
"I know," she said quietly. "That's the scary part."
Zara reached out and took her hand. "Scary doesn't mean bad. It just means it matters."
Those words stayed with Amira long after brunch ended.
Back at the house, Amira tried to focus on editing a manuscript, but her thoughts drifted. She stared at her laptop screen for an hour before giving up. She needed clarity. And there was only one place that always gave her that.
She changed into comfortable clothes, grabbed her sketchbook, and walked to the park nearby. It was a quiet place tucked behind the noise of the city, filled with old trees and winding paths. She sat on a bench beneath a flowering tree and opened her sketchpad.
She started to draw—lines at first, then shading. Without thinking, her hand sketched Idris. Not the CEO, but the man from this morning. Relaxed. Smiling. Real.
She stared at the image when it was done, her chest tightening. This man wasn't a fantasy. He existed. And he had let her see him.
"What are you thinking about?" a voice said behind her.
She turned sharply. Idris stood there, his suit jacket draped over one arm, tie loosened, eyes on her sketch. He looked exhausted but softer somehow.
"You're back early," she said, surprised.
"The meeting ended sooner than expected." He walked over and sat beside her. "I missed you."
Her heart stuttered. "You did?"
"I couldn't focus. All I kept thinking about was this morning. About what I said. And what I didn't say."
She closed her sketchpad, afraid of what he'd seen.
"You drew me," he said gently.
"I was just… thinking."
"I want to be that version of myself," he said suddenly. "The one you see."
"You already are," she whispered.
He reached out and took her hand. "I don't know what's ahead, Amira. But I know I don't want to keep pretending. This… whatever it is between us… it matters."
She looked at him, heart pounding. "It matters to me too."
He leaned forward, pressing his lips to her temple. "Then let's stop running."
The words were simple. But they held the weight of new beginnings.