The Mafia's Bride

Chapter 23

(Hayat’s POV)

I woke up to the sound of faint movement — the quiet clinking of mugs and the familiar scent of coffee. My body still felt heavy, but my chest didn’t. Not like last night.

I sat up slowly and saw Hazar placing two mugs on the bedside table. One black. One just the way I liked it.

Not too sweet. Not too bitter.

His back was to me, fixing the pillows on the couch where he’d apparently slept again. I cleared my throat lightly, and he turned.

“I was going to wake you in a few minutes,” he said, voice still low from sleep.

I gave a small nod. “Thanks… for the coffee.”

He just hummed.

I wrapped the shawl tighter around me and reached for the cup. “You didn’t have to sleep on the sofa.”

He shrugged. “I figured you needed space.”

The truth was, I wasn’t sure what I needed.

I was still trying to untangle the feeling of wanting him close, but also wanting to stay guarded. I was still thinking about that promise from last night. And I was scared of how much I wanted to believe it.

“I think we need to stop acting like strangers,” I finally said, eyes on the coffee.

I heard his footsteps — one, two, three — and then he sat on the edge of the bed, not too close. But not as far as before.

“I’d like that,” he said, quietly. “Starting over, if that’s what you want.”

I looked up at him. “Starting honestly.”

He nodded. His eyes were soft today. Tired. But soft.

“I have to go into the office for a few hours,” he added after a pause. “But I thought… maybe later, we could go out? Just the two of us.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Out?”

“No guards. No chaos. Just us. If you’re up for it.”

A small smile tugged at my lips. “Are you asking me out on a date, Mr. Mafia?”

He smirked. “You’re my wife. I think I’m allowed.”

After Hazar left for the office, the room felt… weirdly quiet. The kind of quiet that made me hear my own heartbeat, or maybe my thoughts — which lately, haven’t been any less loud.

I sat on the bed for a while, coffee in hand, still thinking about how he asked me out. Not dramatically, not with flowers or speeches. Just… gently. Like he knew I needed that softness.

My phone buzzed. Dua.

> So? He asked you out? 👀 Spill right now.

> How do you even know everything??

> Hayat. I can feel it in the air. Also, Ali told Abraham who told Atal who told Sanam who told ME. So yes, I know.

I couldn’t help but smile.

> We’re just going out later. It’s nothing serious.

> You liar. Wear something cute. I want a full report and a picture.

I stared at my phone for a second before tossing it on the bed. I walked toward the closet and ran my fingers across the row of outfits I had started arranging here. This didn’t feel like just Hazar’s house anymore.

It was becoming ours. Slowly.

I stopped at a soft lilac dress, modest and flowy — something that made me feel like myself. I paired it with a white scarf, simple earrings, and let my hair fall in soft waves beneath the scarf.