His Heartless Soul (Under Major Editing and re-writing)

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Ayla's Pov:

"Five... six... seven, eight! Twirl your partners around and... dip. Perfect! Let's take ten, everyone."

As soon as I dismissed the kids, I grabbed my water bottle, sighing with relief as the cold liquid rushed down my throat, soothing my parched mouth. Teaching dance was exhausting, but being back in the studio felt like a homecoming. The joy these kids brought was undeniable, almost addictive. I wasn't paid for this—just volunteering my time to teach kids who couldn't afford lessons. Our small class of fifteen, all between the ages of seven and twelve, was a vibrant mix of energy and innocence.

"Miss, I'm so tired," twelve-year-old Mia huffed, flopping down onto the floor. Her usually fair complexion was flushed, her cheeks bright and blotchy from all the dancing.

I smiled softly. "You can take a break, Mia, don't worry."

She grinned back, lifting her water bottle to her lips and chugging like she'd been stranded in a desert for days.

"Calm down, Mia. No one's trying to steal your water," I teased, chuckling as a wave of giggles spread through the room. Mia's face turned an even deeper shade of red, this time from embarrassment.

"Okay, everyone! From the top!"

The kids scrambled back into position, and I tapped my foot to the rhythm of the music. They twirled and spun around the room, each trying their hardest to keep from tripping or bumping into their partners. They weren't perfect, but they were enthusiastic, and that was enough.

Then, out of nowhere, Mia's voice cut through the air. "Miss, are you married?!"

The question was loud—too loud—and instantly, some of the kids stopped mid-spin, turning their curious gazes on me. Others continued, blissfully unaware of the sudden shift in attention.

I raised an eyebrow, placing a hand on my hip. "What makes you say that?"

Mia pointed dramatically toward the door. "Eddie says your husband is at the door!"

Wait, what?

I spun around, and my breath hitched. Standing there, leaning casually against the doorframe like he owned the place, was *him*. Why was he always leaning on something like he couldn't stand on his own?

The sudden flutter in my stomach annoyed me.

"Keep practicing, everyone," I muttered to the class, trying to keep my voice steady as the girls started giggling again. My feet moved on their own, practically dragging me toward him. The kids' whispers followed me like a cloud of suspicion.

As soon as I reached him, I pushed him gently out of the room and hissed, "What are you doing here?"

He didn't even flinch, just raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. "So this is how you spend your days off?"

God, he was irritating.

Didn't seem to bother you a few nights ago when you were curled up next to him, my mind cruelly reminded me.

I shook the thought away, but it only made his smirk grow wider as the kids inside kept giggling.

"We've got an audience," he said, amusement lacing his voice. His eyes, dark and intense, flickered over my face before glancing back toward the classroom.

They were probably all wondering how someone like me could possibly be married to this man—this towering, infuriating giant who looked like he could set me on fire with a single glance.

"Guys, keep practicing! I'll be right back," I called out, trying to regain some control over the situation. The last thing I needed was more gossip spreading through the dance studio.

Once the door was shut, I rounded on him, pushing him farther down the hallway. "What do you want?"

He raised a brow, unfazed by my irritation. "I tried texting you, but you didn't answer. Hassan and Fatimah invited us over for dinner tonight. We're leaving at five, so be ready."

I blinked at him, incredulous. "You came all the way here to tell me about a dinner invitation?"

Uzair shrugged, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. "Your brothers told me where you were. And the tracker on your car keys helped."

My jaw dropped. "A tracker? Are you serious?" My voice rose, incredulous. Was I some kind of criminal now?

"For your safety," he said, his voice annoyingly calm, like I was being irrational. "I'm doing my part. Don't forget to do yours."

His part? *What did that even mean?*

Before I could demand an explanation, his expression shifted, darkening in an instant. He stepped forward, his large frame closing the distance between us with alarming ease. Instinctively, I took a step back, but he was already too close. His hand reached up, warm fingers brushing my cheek with an intimacy that set every nerve alight. My breath hitched, heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. The room felt too small—like there wasn't enough oxygen left.

His thumb gently traced the curve of my cheekbone, and I found myself frozen, staring up at him, my pulse racing out of control. His gaze dipped to my lips, and my stomach did a flip, the tension between us thick enough to cut.

His lips hovered near my ear, and when he spoke, his voice was a low, husky murmur. "Act the loving wife."

I swallowed, shutting my eyes as his warm breath tickled my ear, leaving me dizzy and lightheaded. Just as quickly as he'd closed the distance, he pulled away, dropping his hand and resuming the professional distance that had become our unspoken rule. But his touch lingered on my skin like fire, a reminder that he had the power to make me unravel.

"I'll see you at five," he added, a mischievous smirk playing at the corners of his lips before he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, breathless.

The air in the hallway felt stifling, my skin still tingling where his fingers had been. My heart was racing, and I could barely think straight.

Oh, God. How was I supposed to go back and finish teaching now?

Someone please turn on the AC—I'm about to melt.

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