Bound by Fate, Freed by Love

Chapter 8 Boundaries Behind Closed Doors

The door to Samar's room clicked shut behind them, and the muffled sounds of the downstairs wedding celebration faded. Amara stood in the doorway, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, unsure of what to expect. Her heart raced in her chest, and the tension of the evening clung to her like a heavy cloak.

Samar crossed the room with measured steps, his posture calm, his expression unreadable. He moved around with the precision of a man who had lived in this space for years, every movement deliberate. Amara's eyes wandered around the room, taking in the large bed against the wall, the sleek, modern furniture, and the subtle personal touches that gave the room an air of quiet sophistication.

"This is where you'll be staying," Samar's voice broke the silence, drawing her attention back to him. He gestured to the room with a casual wave of his hand, his tone polite but distant. "I'll show you around so you can settle in."

He pointed to the large walk-in closet on one side of the room. "Your clothes will be in there. I've had the staff arrange everything for you. If you need more space, let me know."

Amara nodded, feeling the awkwardness settle between them as Samar moved toward a door near the corner of the room.

"The bathroom is through here," he said, opening the door. "You'll find everything you need, and if anything's missing, just tell me."

Samar closed the door behind him as he returned to the centre of the room. Amara could sense his hesitation, as though he were trying to navigate the delicate situation between them.

"This room is private," Samar continued, his voice steady. "When we're alone here, we don't need to pretend to be close. I know this isn't what either of us wanted, so there's no point in forcing anything."

Amara's breath caught in her throat at his blunt words, though she had expected them. She had known this marriage was nothing more than an arrangement, a solution to a problem, but hearing it laid out so plainly still stung.

"However," Samar said, his eyes locking with hers, "when we're outside, we will pretend to be a normal, happily married couple. We'll attend family functions together, interact as any other couple would, and we'll do what's necessary to avoid any suspicion."

Amara nodded slowly, taking in the rules he was laying out. The distance between them, though unspoken, was clear.

"And one more thing," Samar added, his voice dropping slightly. "Keep your distance from Fidel."

Amara's heart skipped a beat at the mention of her brother-in-law. Samar's tone was firm, and though he hadn't elaborated, she knew exactly what he meant. The tension from the dinner still lingered in her mind, and she could feel the weight of it pressing down on her now.

Samar's gaze softened slightly as he glanced at the bed. "You can sleep there," he said, gesturing toward it. "It's yours."

Amara blinked in surprise, her eyes shifting toward the large bed. "And... you?"

Samar moved toward the opposite corner of the room, where a small office setup was neatly arranged. A desk, a chair, and a couch sat tucked away near the window, giving the space a functional, business-like feel.

"I'll be sleeping over here," he said simply, pointing to the couch. "This is where I work most nights, so I'll be out of your way."

Amara stood still for a moment, processing his words. The room felt impossibly large now, the bed looming in the centre like a chasm between them. It was as though the space itself reflected the emotional distance that stretched between her and the man who was now her husband.

"Thank you," Amara said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. She felt strange, almost like a guest in her own life, watching as everything unfolded around her without truly knowing her place in it.

Samar gave her a nod before turning to head toward his office space. He paused briefly, glancing back at her with a neutral expression. "I'll give you some time to get settled."

Amara watched as he disappeared into the corner, his footsteps quiet against the floor. She stood frozen in place, staring at the bed, the reality of her situation settling over her like a thick fog.

The weight of the wedding, the marriage, the expectations—they all pressed down on her, but none of it felt real. This wasn't the life she had dreamed of. She had imagined love, passion, and a deep connection with the person she would one day call her husband. But instead, she had married a stranger, a man who had no interest in sharing his life with her beyond the surface.

As Amara walked toward the bed, she brushed her fingers against the soft fabric of the duvet, her mind filled with uncertainty. She had entered into this marriage to protect her sister's happiness and to avoid causing any complications in Alyssa's life. But what about her happiness? What about her dreams of love and a future that was hers to claim?

She sighed, pulling back the covers and sitting on the edge of the bed. Her heart felt heavy, and the silence of the room was deafening. Even though Samar was just a few steps away, it felt as though he were a world apart from her.

"Pretend," she whispered to herself, repeating Samar's words. Pretend to be close, pretend to be happy, pretend to be what everyone else expected. But she wondered how long she could keep up the facade.

Amara lay back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling, her thoughts swirling in a blur of doubt and frustration. The marriage was only just beginning, but already, it felt like she was losing a part of herself in the process.

Across the room, she could hear the faint rustling of papers as Samar settled into his office. For now, they would coexist in this space, strangers under the same roof, pretending to be something they weren't.

And as the night stretched on, Amara couldn't help but wonder if she would ever truly feel at home in this life she hadn't chosen.