The Bound Princess (Dark Romance)

Chapter 70

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Emma

Returning to Azmaayir felt both comforting and painful, like stepping back into a familiar dream I’d never quite fit into. The sun-soaked landscapes, the scent of jasmine, the quiet murmur of my family’s voices—all of it filled me with a bittersweet ache. There, I was Emma Al Jahaan, the dutiful daughter, the future lawyer with grand dreams, the one my family looked to with pride. Yet part of me felt like an imposter, as if the pieces of my life were falling away one by one.

Leaving Boston wasn’t a choice; it was survival. I couldn’t stay, not when every corner, every shadow seemed to hold a memory of Dawood. The thought of running into him, of seeing his face and feeling the inevitable pull, was something I knew I wasn’t ready to face. Leaving him had shattered me in ways I hadn’t even imagined possible. Even though I’d once hated being forced into this marriage, leaving him hurt far more than the initial resentment ever had.

Still, I knew I’d made the right choice. I couldn’t keep living in that cycle—every attempt to get close to him, only to be pushed away by his mistrust. He had his demons, and until he put them to rest, we’d always be caught in that same destructive loop. It was something he had to conquer alone.

My family was thrilled by my sudden return, though their curiosity was clear. I hadn’t given them much of an explanation, just a vague excuse about missing them and wanting to spend time together. Mom was beside herself with happiness, enveloping me in one of her comforting, all-encompassing hugs the moment I arrived. She didn’t seem to care about the specifics of my return, only that I was back.

“And now that you’re carrying our first grandchild, it’s even more perfect!” Her hands fluttered to my stomach, eyes shining with excitement.

I forced a smile, swallowing down the lump in my throat. It hurt to keep it from her, to hide the truth about my marriage’s shaky foundation, but I couldn’t bring myself to shatter her joy. My family had endured enough recently with the revolts, and the pregnancy felt like a rare, bright moment in a storm. I decided to wait, hoping that as the excitement waned, I’d find a gentler way to share the truth.

But one person wasn’t so easily convinced. Mohammed waited until we were alone to confront me, his gaze sharp and searching. “What’s going on, Emma?” he asked, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorway of my room. “You were so focused on not missing classes and becoming a lawyer, and now you’re suddenly here?”

His bluntness made my chest tighten, and before I could stop it, the truth broke free, spilling out in a rush. “It’s over,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Dawood and I…we’re done.”

Mohammed’s expression softened, and without a word, he wrapped me in his arms, letting me cry against his shoulder. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t press for details—he just held me, steady and solid.

When my tears subsided, he brushed a strand of hair from my face and gave me a wry smile. “Want me to make him disappear?” he asked, trying to coax a laugh from me.

Despite my broken heart, I managed a small chuckle. “What happened to the brother who wanted me to make this marriage work?”

He shrugged. “It’s one thing to support a marriage; it’s another to watch someone hurt you. Just say the word, and I’ll take care of it. He’ll never have the chance to hurt you again.”

I shook my head, feeling a pang of affection and sadness. “No, Mohammed. Even if he hurt me, I… I still love him. I always will. I couldn’t stand to see him hurt.”