The Mafia's Bride

chapter 21

                           Hayat

I was sitting on the bed, my fingers absentmindedly fiddling with the corner of the magazine in front of me. My mind was a mess. The headache from all the overthinking wasn’t helping either.

That stupid newspaper.

It was just grocery shopping. Just a normal, everyday errand. Why did they have to publish it like we were some kind of spectacle? Do we really not get to have any privacy? But more than the headlines, what actually worried me was...

Hazar.

I knew he was pretending like it didn’t matter, brushing it off as if it was nothing. But I saw the way his body tensed when the bodyguard entered during breakfast. I saw that flicker of unease behind his calm expression. He does care. He just doesn’t show it.

The quiet creak of the doorknob snapped me out of my thoughts. I quickly sat up straighter, flipping through the pages of the magazine like I had been reading all along.

But I knew it was him. Even before I looked up. That distinct scent—spicy, woody, intense—it was his. It always lingered in the air like an unsaid promise.

“Hayat,” he said softly.

God, why did it feel so good to hear him say my name like that?

I looked up and gave a small nod, trying not to let my emotions peek through.

“The house in Istanbul is ready. We can move in a day or two,” he said, sitting at the edge of the bed, keeping just enough distance between us.

“So soon?” I blinked, surprised. It felt like we had just talked about the house a week ago.

“Yeah. Everyone will leave with us,” he said, his tone calm.

I shifted, the magazine falling onto my lap. “I have so much to pack. How will I finish everything in just two days?”

“You won’t have to. The maids will handle the packing. Just rest and enjoy your time here while you can. Once we’re there, you’ll have a lot to catch up on with university,” he said, and I could feel his gaze on me—deep, unwavering—like he was trying to read every unspoken word in my heart.

“Hazar...” I said his name slowly, just to feel it roll off my tongue.

He hummed in response.

I dropped my eyes, unable to hold his gaze any longer. “Umm... about the newspaper,” I began.

“So that’s what’s been eating you up.” His voice was soft, but certain. “You don’t need to worry about it, Hayat. I don’t care about any of that.”

He was looking at me—really looking. And in that moment, I wanted to believe him.

**
I got up from the bed, brushing down my shirt and fixing my scarf in place.

“I’m going to find Dua,” I said, glancing at Hazar, who was still sitting on the bed, now scrolling through something on his phone.

He looked up, raised an eyebrow as if debating whether to say something, then stood up and took a step closer to me. Before I could turn toward the door, he gently reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, letting his fingers linger just a second longer than necessary.

“You missed a few,” he said softly, his fingers brushing near my scarf’s edge, his gaze lingering on my face.

My breath caught, but I managed to nod, my voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you…”

“Go before I change my mind and ask you to stay,” he said with a hint of a smirk, stepping back.

I rolled my eyes, trying not to smile as I walked out of the room, my heart just a little louder than before.