𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐲 𝐕𝐨𝐰𝐬

Chapter 16

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Let the imaginary world take care of you, sweet child.

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Aamirah sat in the dimly lit bedroom, her fingers trembling slightly as they brushed over the hem of her simple nightgown. Her entire day was quite simple yet exploring, she talked with his grandmother, who is strict but she doesn't hate or disapproved of her.

Maybe she is worried for Mohammed’s future and why wouldn't she? Afterall the child is not even a year old and he already lost his mother and no one can love a child as much as a mother do.

Aamirah came to know about Osman’s first wife and Mohammed biological mother and she felt nothing except sympathy towards the kid. Who doesn't even get to see his real mother.

Outside, the night was still, the only sounds coming from the occasional rustle of the wind and the soft creaking of the house. Her eyes kept darting to the door, her heart pounding with every small sound, wondering if it was him.

Osman.

Her husband.

The word still felt foreign on her tongue, even though they had been already married. It wasn’t the kind of marriage she had dreamed of. No loving courtship, no whispered promises of forever. It was a marriage of convenience, or rather, a necessity.

In exchange for saving her father’s life, she had agreed to be his wife and, more importantly, the caregiver for his son, Mohammed.

Mohammed.

The name lingered in her mind as she glanced over at the small crib in the corner of the room. The child was asleep, his chest rising and falling gently, his soft breaths filling the silence.

Aamirah’s thoughts swirled, her mind returning to a month ago when a baby had been left on their doorstep. Her family had been shocked, confused. A child, abandoned, with no explanation. And now… now she was almost certain that this was the same baby. Mohammed. His son.

She wanted to ask. She needed to ask. But the idea of questioning him sent a shiver down her spine. He was a man of few words, but his presence alone was enough to make her feel small, insignificant.

He had a way of looking at her that made her feel like she was being judged, like every word she spoke could be the wrong one. His dark eyes were cold, unreadable, and though he had never raised his voice except one time, the force of his authority was unmistakable.

Aamirah wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ward off the chill that had nothing to do with the night air. She wasn’t used to feeling this way—afraid.

Her life had been simple before all of this, predictable. She had known hardship, of course, but not like this. Not this gnawing uncertainty, this fear of the man who was now her husband.

The door creaked open slightly, and her breath caught in her throat. She straightened immediately, her heart racing as he stepped into the room. He was dressed in his usual tailored suit, his presence commanding as always.

He didn’t look at her at first, his attention briefly turning to the sleeping child. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, as Aamirah searched for the courage to speak.