Zayd's POV
Today, I arrived at the office earlier than usual. An important meeting with a Japanese client awaited me. With a weary sigh, I took the elevator to the top floor and entered my cabin.
My cabin was a reflection of modern sophistication, a spacious yet cozy. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows offered a stunning panoramic view of the city skyline, allowing natural light to flood the room. A sleek, mahogany desk took center stage, neatly organized with files, a laptop, and a small potted plant—a touch of green amidst the neutral tones of the decor. Shelves lined one side of the room, filled with neatly arranged books and accolades, a testament to years of dedication and hard work. On the opposite wall hung an abstract painting.
With a deep breath, I settled in, ready to face what lay ahead.
I tried to work, my eyes fixed on the glowing screen in front of me, but the words blurred together, refusing to make sense. No matter how hard I tried to focus, her face kept invading my thoughts—uninvited and relentless.
She was like a shadow, slipping into every corner of my mind, filling the spaces where my focus should have been. I let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through my hair. No matter what I did to push her out, she was always there—a distraction I didn't want, a mystery I couldn't solve, and an ache I didn't dare to name.
A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts.
"Come in," I called.
The door opened, and my secretary walked in, clipboard and file in hand, her demeanor as professional as ever.
"Sir, the clients have arrived. They're waiting in the meeting room," she informed me, her voice steady and businesslike.
"Alright, make sure everything is ready. I'll be there in a moment," I replied, glancing at her briefly before turning back to my desk.
She nodded crisply. "Yes, sir." Then she turned and left.
I stood up, grabbed my coat and phone, and made my way toward the meeting room, forcing myself to block out the thoughts that had been plaguing me. It's good she wears a niqab; otherwise, I would have lost myself completely and given in to her manipulations—something I swore I'd never do. I know why she married me. For the money. Anger surged within me, frustration bubbling to the surface, but I brushed it aside with a sigh as I reached the meeting room.
Everyone stood as I entered, greeting me politely. I returned their greetings with a curt nod and took my seat at the head of the table.
"Let's begin," I said, and my secretary immediately started the presentation.
The meeting went on smoothly, and by the end, I stood up, feeling a rare sense of satisfaction. The deal was finalized, and they had agreed to our terms. I smirked, savoring the victory as I left the room, my secretary following close behind.
The meeting was a success, but the lingering frustration in the back of my mind reminded me that my personal battles were far from over.
As I entered my cabin, I saw a girl sitting on the couch.
"How the hell did you get in here?" I growled, my voice sharp. She flinched but quickly stood and walked toward me.
"Zayd, you're back. I've been waiting for you so long," she said, her voice sweet and saccharine, a tone that only fueled my disgust. I rolled my eyes.
"How did you get in?" I repeated, emphasizing each word, my tone cold and demanding.
"I came just like I used to before," she replied, her fingers brushing against my arm. My teeth clenched as I gritted out a sharp breath and pushed her away, striding to my desk.
YOU ARE READING
Veil of Truth
Spiritual"Amina, a devout niqabi Muslim and final-year medical student from India, has always held her faith close. She has come to London to complete her studies, but life takes a turn when she finds herself in an arranged marriage with Zayd, a wealthy Lond...
