𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐲 𝐕𝐨𝐰𝐬

Chapter 27

•••

"You are the storm I run toward, the chaos I can never tame, and the obsession I cannot deny."

•••

The dining room was bathed in the soft glow of the chandelier, the quiet clinking of silverware the only sound breaking the silence. Aamirah sat across from Nour at the long, polished dining table, her eyes cast downward as she toyed with the food on her plate. She had little appetite, but it felt improper not to eat.

Osman was still out, expected to return late at night, leaving the two of them alone for dinner.

Nour, too, was silent, though not in an uncomfortable way. She ate at a leisurely pace, her expression unreadable. If the absence of Osman affected her, she did not show it. Unlike Aaliyah, who was all sharp edges and scrutinizing gazes, Nour carried an air of casual detachment, as if none of this-this house, this family, this life-held any real weight in her world.

Aamirah stole a glance at her. Nour was beautiful in a refined, effortless way. Her dark hair fell in waves over her shoulders, her features delicate yet sharp, with an underlying confidence that made her presence quietly commanding. She didn't carry herself like a guest in this house, nor did she seem particularly concerned with impressing anyone.

It was Nour who finally broke the silence.

"You look young," she remarked, her tone more curious than critical. "How old are you?"

Aamirah blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "I'm nineteen."

Nour hummed in response, swirling her fork idly in the remnants of her meal. "Nineteen," she repeated, as if considering something. "You're even younger than I thought."

Aamirah wasn't sure what to make of that. Did she seem too young to be here? Too young to be married? Too young to be sitting at this table, sharing a meal with a woman who had clearly lived far more than she had?

She hesitated before speaking again, an unasked question lingering on her tongue. There was something she wanted to know, but she wasn't sure if it would be inappropriate to ask.

Nour must have sensed it, because she leaned back in her chair, amusement flickering in her eyes. "Go ahead," she said, as if she could read Aamirah's mind. "You want to ask me something."

Aamirah hesitated for only a moment longer before giving in to her curiosity. "You're... his step-cousin, right?"

A smirk tugged at the corner of Nour's lips. "You mean Osman?"

Aamirah nodded, suddenly feeling a little foolish for asking.

Nour exhaled, setting her fork down. "Yeah, I suppose you could call it that. Aaliyah married my father two years ago."

Aamirah processed that, the pieces slowly falling into place. She hadn't been wrong in her assumptions, then.

Nour tilted her head, studying her. "That woman is... okay," she continued, her tone nonchalant, but there was an edge of something else beneath it-apathy, perhaps, or mild distaste. "But she's not my mother, if that's what you're asking."

Aamirah shook her head quickly. "No, I didn't mean-"

Nour waved a hand dismissively. "It's fine. I get it. But no, I don't consider her as anything more than my father's wife. A twenty-three-year-old doesn't need a mother, does she?" She let out a small laugh, though it lacked warmth.

Aamirah wasn't sure how to respond to that. There was something in Nour's tone that suggested she had never particularly needed anyone, least of all a mother figure. It was strange, how different they were.