Forbiddenly Bound To You
Chapter 101: Bouquet of Flowers

Chapter 101: Bouquet of Flowers

Two weeks had passed, and the excitement on Zamian’s face was undeniable. The past weeks had been challenging, filled with demanding meetings, restless nights, and long hours away from home, but the thought of seeing Mira again had overwhelmed him to the point where all the previous stress seemed to melt away.

The flight was booked, and they were set to arrive at the mansion in forty minutes—a thirty-minute flight followed by a ten-minute drive.

Zamian couldn’t quite comprehend the intensity of his happiness. Of course, he knew he was excited to be reunited with his wife, but something about this moment felt different, more profound. It felt as if all he had ever wanted, all he had worked for, had been building up to this reunion with Mira.

During these two weeks, they had barely communicated. In fact, they had only contacted each other once, and that had been out of necessity. His tight schedule had reduced their original plans—what was meant to be a month-long separation had been shortened to two weeks. He had convinced himself that the two weeks would pass quickly, that he could bear the distance, but now, all he could think about was Mira. The countdown to see her had consumed him, and each passing minute felt like an eternity.

"Um, boss, time to go," one of his men said, snapping Zamian out of his thoughts. He nodded, his face lighting up with a smile as the anticipation surged through him. He had already been aware, even without the reminder. A large bouquet of roses and the delicate, rare Senerp flowers, Mira’s favorite, lay waiting in the car. He had spent hours selecting them, knowing that their beauty would be nothing compared to the joy of seeing Mira’s smile when she received them.

Zamian entered the vehicle and settled into the leather seat. As the car zoomed off, he couldn’t help but glance at the bouquet again, imagining her reaction.

"Do you think she’ll like them?" Zamian asked, his voice holding a rare trace of uncertainty. His eyes remained fixed on the flowers, picturing Mira’s delighted expression.

"Absolutely, sir. Mrs. Mira—your wife—will love these beautiful flowers," his assistant reassured him from the front seat. There was a sense of conviction in his words that seemed to soothe Zamian’s nerves.

He nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. The thought of seeing Mira, of holding her again, was all that mattered. She had been through so much, and the least he could do was be there for her now. Zamian knew her strength—how much she had endured—and it was that strength that had pushed him even harder to make this reunion happen. Everything he did was for her.

As they neared the airport, Zamian felt the excitement building again. The car came to a stop at the VIP entrance, where they could avoid the crowd. The last thing he wanted was to get held up by attention-seeking fans or paparazzi. He had no time for distractions; his focus was singular: Mira.

Stepping out of the car, Zamian glanced at the luggage that was being arranged by his staff—specially ordered gifts for Mira. He had wanted everything to be perfect for her, from the flowers to the carefully chosen presents. She deserved the best.

Once everything was set, Zamian and his assistant, John, moved quickly through the private entrance, there was no denying that his presence in public places often caused a commotion. Today, he had no patience for that. His sole desire was to get back to his wife.

As soon as the plane landed Zamian stepped out as they walked to the car before John drove off, the car was silent before Zamian broke it.

"We’ll make a quick stop," Zamian instructed, eyeing a nearby candy and chocolate store. "She’ll love it."

John nodded in understanding as he pulled the car to a stop. They both stepped out and walked into the candy store. Despite the face masks they wore and the watchful presence of Zamian’s men, the intimidating aura surrounding Zamian was enough to make people step back, creating a clear path before him.

The store was lined with rows upon rows of candies, chocolates, and sweets, beautifully arranged in vibrant displays. A sugary aroma filled the air as they walked in, enveloping them in a sense of warmth and indulgence. Zamian immediately began selecting various chocolates, carefully choosing different brands he knew Mira would love. The fact that he took the time to do this himself, rather than delegating the task, spoke to his protective nature and deep care for his wife.

John, who had been observing him quietly, finally broke his silence. "Uh... I think that’s enough," he said, his tone gentle and respectful. "Considering your wife is pregnant, it might not be the best idea for her to have too much sugar."

Zamian paused for a moment, considering his assistant’s words. He knew John was right. Mira’s health—and the health of their unborn child—was paramount. With a reluctant nod, he agreed.

"You’re right," he said, though a faint smile still lingered on his face. It wasn’t about the amount of chocolate; it was about the thought behind it. He just wanted to make her happy.

John quickly packed the selections they had made, and they left the store, heading back to the car. As they drove toward the mansion, the anticipation grew. He could picture Mira’s surprise as he walked through the door earlier than expected. She must have thought he wouldn’t return for another month. The look on her face would be priceless, and that thought alone made the long drive feel even longer.

After what felt like an eternity, the car finally came to a stop in front of the mansion. Zamian wasted no time stepping out, the bouquet of roses and Senerp flowers still clutched in his hand. His heart raced with excitement. This was it. The moment he had been waiting for. As he walked toward the front door, he could already see Mira’s beaming face in his mind.

But something was off. The mansion, usually filled with warmth and energy, felt eerily quiet. There was no sense of life, no cheerful atmosphere. It didn’t seem possible that Mira was home. The thought unsettled him, but he brushed it aside, convincing himself that perhaps she was resting. After all, she needed her rest.

As he reached the door, Nana, appeared. Her expression immediately caught his attention. She was trembling slightly, her face pale, and her eyes wide with fear. Zamian noticed it right away, though he chose not to dwell on it. People were often afraid of him—his presence, his reputation—it wasn’t anything new.

"Where is my wife?" Zamian asked, his voice low but commanding. His gaze was intense as he stared at Nana, expecting her to tell him that Mira was upstairs, resting peacefully, completely unaware of his early return.

Nana’s lips quivered as she bowed slightly, unable to meet his eyes. "Um... Mrs. Mira left," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Zamian frowned. Left? What did she mean, left? Why would Mira leave? She wasn’t supposed to be working, not in her condition. She needed rest, and the doctors had been clear on that. Why had they let her go?

"Tell James to cancel it now and go pick her up," Zamian ordered, his patience starting to thin. He was eager to see her, and he didn’t have time for misunderstandings.

Nana’s fear seemed to intensify. Sweat began to bead on her forehead, and her trembling became more pronounced.

"Call James," Zamian repeated, his voice now icy and sharp. The tension in the air thickened, and the weight of his authority pressed down on the room like a heavy fog. Something wasn’t right, and his instincts screamed that something was terribly wrong.

The bouquet of flowers in his hand tightened under his grip, the delicate petals crumpling against the pressure. He could feel the stems bending, the once-beautiful arrangement now twisted in his palm. Why was he feeling like this? The usually calm and composed Zamian was standing impatiently, a sense of unease gnawing at him with each passing second.

Nana bowed again, her voice shaky. She was clearly struggling with what to say, her body practically trembling under the weight of her fear. Zamian watched her carefully, his patience fraying with each passing second.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she managed to speak.

"Um... Mrs. Mira... she left. S-she... ran away."

Zamian was quiet for a while before an eerie laughter broke the silence—broken yet icy, a sound that Nana had never heard before. Cold chills ran down her spine, and at that moment, she felt numb with fear.

"Are you saying my wife ran away?" he continued laughing, but it sounded nothing like joy.

"You’re saying my wife ran away under your watch." The coldness in his eyes was unbearable. Though Nana could not look up at him, her head bowed low, she felt the fear coursing through her body; the atmosphere felt suffocating.

"John," Zamian called out. John stepped back, sensing the deadly atmosphere. He had not expected to hear this and hoped his boss wouldn’t lose control like before.

"Yes," he spoke carefully.

"Get the car ready." What was he going to do now? John understood that the plans ahead would be dangerous, but he complied without question.

Nana bowed before leaving to call James, while John went to prepare the car. Zamian’s laughter echoed, more broken than ever.

"Oh, darling, you’ve made the wrong choice by running away." How he had longed to hear her repeat those three words to him again. His eyes were dangerously intense as he finally spoke,

"You can’t leave; you are bound to me."