The Mafia's Bride

Chapter 25

Hayat's pov

The room felt colder than usual, though the lamp still burned faintly on the bedside table. I sat stiffly at the edge of the bed, arms wrapped tightly around myself as if that could hold together the storm inside me.

I could still see Elaf’s smug smile in my mind, the way the moment had shattered like glass the second she appeared. And worse—the way Hazar hadn’t said a word, hadn’t stopped it.

My chest ached with humiliation. With doubt.

Behind me, I heard the soft shuffle of his steps, the weight of his gaze pressing against my back.

“Hayat…” His voice came low, careful.

I bit down on the inside of my cheek. Don’t turn around. Don’t let him smooth it over this time.
“Don’t,” I said flatly, my eyes fixed on the floor.

A pause. Then his sigh. “You’re angry with me.”

My head snapped up at that, bitterness rising like fire. “Angry? You let her walk in like that, Hazar. Do you even realize how humiliating that was for me?”

He moved closer—I could feel the warmth of his presence even without looking. “I didn’t know she’d come. If I had—”

“But she did.” I finally looked at him, my voice trembling with the weight of the hurt I couldn’t swallow. “And every time I start to believe you, every time I let myself trust you… something happens to remind me why I shouldn’t.”

His eyes darkened at that, not with anger, but with something heavier. He sat beside me carefully, though I shifted away.

“I don’t want you doubting me. Not us,” he said, low but certain.

My throat tightened. “Then prove it.” The words slipped out softer than I meant, almost breaking.

For a moment, silence. Just my uneven breath, and the maddening steadiness of his. Then, without warning, his hand wrapped around my wrist—firm, but gentle. He pulled my hand against his chest, pressing it where his heart beat violently.

My own heart faltered.

“This,” he said hoarsely, his gaze locked on mine, “is yours. Even when I fail, even when the world intrudes—I belong to you. Only you.”

The words cut through my walls like a blade, and yet… my pride refused to fall so easily. I tugged my hand back, curling my fingers into my lap.

“I don’t know if I can believe that right now,” I whispered, hating the way my voice cracked.

He leaned back slightly then, his jaw tight, his eyes unreadable. But instead of arguing, instead of forcing me to bend, he only said quietly, “Then I’ll make you believe. Whatever it takes.”

And the silence after carried more weight than all the words before.

I kept my face turned away from him, refusing to look at the man who had once made me feel like I was the only person in the world. My heart ached, but my pride was louder. No matter how softly he called my name, I didn’t answer.

After a long silence, I heard him sigh. “Fine, Hayat,” he muttered, his voice low and heavy. “I’ll give you space… but I’m not walking away from us.”

The sound of his footsteps leaving the room tore at me, and though my chest screamed for me to call him back, I clenched my fists and stayed quiet.

Hours later, the room was dim, and I lay still on the bed, pretending to be asleep when the door creaked open. His familiar scent reached me before his touch did. Carefully, as though I were something fragile, Hazar pulled the blanket up to my shoulders.