LOVE WITHOUT DESTINY

part 23

Zain glanced at Amal, motioning toward the seat beside him. "Sit down," he said, his tone calm but with a subtle urgency.

Amal hesitated. She wasn’t sure why, but the weight of the situation still felt heavy on her chest. She had to make sure Noah was okay. "Noah... is she alright? Is she okay?" Her voice wavered as she asked, the worry etched clearly on her face.

Zain gave her a reassuring smile, though there was a slight sadness in his eyes. "Yes, she’s perfectly fine. I’ll bring her home this evening," he said, trying to ease her worries. Despite his calm demeanor, Amal couldn’t shake off the unease she felt.

Amal nodded, her thoughts still tangled in the events of the previous day. Slowly, she sat down, her movements stiff, almost mechanical. Zain watched her, the softness in his gaze not going unnoticed. "Sit down. I’ll make something for you," he said as he moved to the kitchen.

His words, gentle yet commanding, were impossible to ignore. Zain had always been assertive, but this was different. He wasn’t ordering her around like he would with others. It felt... protective. Amal watched him roll up his sleeves, the action simple, yet somehow comforting. She wanted to protest, tell him she wasn’t hungry, but she didn’t have the strength to fight him.

As Zain worked in the kitchen, Amal’s thoughts drifted back to the events of the night before—the way Zain had confronted Sam. The cruelty with which he had handled the situation, the raw power he had displayed, it all still haunted her. She had seen Zain’s darker side, a side that was cold, calculated, and unforgiving. But now, watching him prepare food, he seemed... different. Human, even.

How can he be both? Amal thought, One moment, he’s terrifying... the next, he’s making me food. How do you reconcile the two sides of him?

Zain’s movements in the kitchen were fluid, efficient. He worked with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what they were doing. When he was done, he placed the plate of food in front of Amal and sat down beside her. He looked at her with those piercing blue eyes, the same eyes that had once made her feel both safe and terrified.

“Try it. Tell me how it is,” he said, his voice almost casual, as if they weren’t tangled in a web of complications.

Amal felt her hand tremble as she reached for the spoon. She picked it up and took a small bite, the flavor rich and comforting, but it was too much. She didn’t expect the tears that followed. They welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. She quickly looked away, trying to hide it from Zain. She didn’t want him to see her like this, vulnerable and broken.

But Zain wasn’t fooled. His gaze was fixed on her, unwavering, and he saw the glisten in her eyes. His expression softened for a moment, before he spoke again.

"Amal," he said softly, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Cry. I know what’s going on in your head. You miss home, don’t you? You miss everything. It’s okay to cry. You don’t have to hold it in."

The words hit her like a wave, and she couldn’t fight it anymore. Her control slipped, and the tears flowed freely. She buried her face in her hands, her sobs muffled against the table. Zain didn’t move. He stayed silent, watching her, the weight of the moment settling between them.

Amal’s voice broke through the silence, shaky and raw. "It’s all over, Zain. Everything’s finished." She couldn’t stop herself from saying it, the finality of the words hanging in the air.

Zain stayed silent for a moment. Then, his voice came again, firmer now. “Enough, Amal. It’s enough now. You’ve cried enough, and it’s time to stop torturing yourself.”

Amal looked up at him, still crying, still unsure how to stop the flood of emotions inside her. She shook her head, her voice broken. “I’m not hungry,” she whispered, staring at the food in front of her.