The Unwanted Marriage

Chapter 31

Zayd's POV

The sun's rays pierced through the window, hitting my face. Groaning, I slowly opened my eyes, my head pounding relentlessly. I cradled it in my hands, the effects of last night's endless drinking taking their toll.

"Ahh, this headache," I muttered, groaning again as I struggled to sit up. Glancing at my watch, I realized it was already 9 in the morning.

"Shit," I cursed, standing up abruptly. The events of yesterday replayed in my mind like a haunting flashback. I looked around-it was the same room as last night.

I grabbed my coat and phone hastily, ready to leave. But as I stepped out of the room.

"Finally, you're back in your senses," a voice said behind me. I turned around to see Jonathan standing there, arms crossed, watching me with a mix of annoyance and concern.

"You know what happened yesterday?" he asked, stepping closer.

I ran a hand through my hair, still trying to piece it together.

"Jennifer was here," he said.

"I know," I replied curtly.

"You know?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "Then do you also know what she said to your wife?"

I frowned, unsure of what he meant. "What do you mean?"

Jonathan sighed, then proceeded to tell me everything. Each word hit me like a hammer, shocking me to my core. Rage and guilt churned within me as I listened.

"I saw her running out of the room, crying. You went after her but passed out before you could reach her. I brought you back to this room." He paused before adding, "Maybe she took Jennifer's words seriously."

Jonathan's words yanked the memory into sharp focus. I had slapped her. My wife.

Dragging an unbearable weight of guilt in its wake. I'd never raised my hand against any woman-not once. But last night, I'd crossed a line I couldn't uncross.

And it wasn't just anyone. It was her.

The guilt clawed at my chest, an unbearable ache that seemed to hollow me out from the inside. The image of her tear-streaked face flashed before my eyes, and the shame was like a blade, sharp and unforgiving.

How could I have done this to her?

"You okay?" Jonathan asked, noticing the tension etched across my face.

"Hmm. Yeah," I muttered, though my voice betrayed me. Without another word, I bolted from the bar.

I needed to see her. I needed to apologize. If I didn't, this guilt would consume me entirely.

Sliding into my car, I ignored the pounding in my head and speed toward home, my only thought being her tear-streaked face and the damage I had caused.

I reached home, stepping out of the car with an uneasy weight in my chest. As I walked toward the house, a strange restlessness settled over me, urging my pace to quicken. I opened the door and called out, "Amina?" My voice echoed back in the silence. No reply.

Frowning, I headed straight to her room. I pushed the door open and scanned the space. It was empty. Anxiety clawed at my insides as I quickly checked the bathroom and dressing room, but they too were empty. An unfamiliar, gnawing sensation gripped me, one I couldn't name.

"Martin!" I shouted, my voice cutting through the stillness. Within moments, my bodyguard appeared at the door, looking nervous.

"Where is she?" I demanded, my teeth clenched, my gaze piercing.