Forbiddenly Bound To You
Chapter 105: Mr Stranger

Chapter 105: Mr Stranger

Mira hadn’t expected him to react this way, especially after everything she had put him through. The gentle way he wiped her face, his fingers light and careful, surprised her. For a moment, she could only stand there, watching him with a mix of emotions she couldn’t name.

"Let’s go," Zamian said quietly, his voice barely above a murmur as he moved in the direction of the building where Little Zami and her grandfather had entered.

Mira’s brows knit together in confusion. "Where are you going?" she asked, curiosity evident in her tone. He paused, turning to look at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read.

"To see my daughter," he replied softly, his gaze distant. "At the very least, I should be there for her celebration."

He had overheard the conversation about the cake, making it clear that today was his child’s birthday.

Something in his tone made it sound as if they had never been apart. If anyone had overheard, they might think they were still together, that the past five years of silence and separation had never happened. The way he spoke, so calm and certain, made it seem like there had never been any problems between them, as if they had always lived happily, sharing a life with their daughter.

Before Mira could respond, he was already walking into the building. She trailed behind him, entering the elevator by his side. It was a glass elevator, offering a view of the bustling lobby below. The elevator ascended slowly, and Mira’s heart jolted when she noticed Zamian watching her. Leaning casually against the glass wall, he rested his hand on his jaw, studying her with an intensity that left her flustered.

Why is my heart still reacting to him? she thought, feeling a familiar flutter that she had hoped would be long gone.She had thought her heart had stopped beating for Zamian, believing that the feelings and love she once had for him would fade after all those years apart.

"You have a lot of explaining to do, dear wife," he said slowly, his voice calm but carrying a weight of unresolved emotions. The word "wife" sent a chill down her spine. Did he still consider her his wife, even after the divorce? She opened her mouth, searching for words, but nothing came. The soft ping of the elevator arriving at their floor interrupted her thoughts, snapping her back to reality.

As they stepped out, Zamian reached for her hand, and Mira froze. She had braced herself for so many possible reactions if they ever crossed paths again—anger, coldness, maybe even accusations. But this gentle touch was completely unexpected. The guilt that had been buried in her chest for so long tightened.

Was I the selfish one all along?

That question echoed through her mind, haunting her as she walked beside him. She couldn’t escape the nagging thought: What if I was the red flag, not him? A flood of memories washed over her, each one hinting that maybe she had been the problem, not Zamian.

They walked forward in silence, finding her grandfather deep in conversation with the cake delivery lady. Mira’s gaze drifted toward Little Zami, who was clapping her hands in delight at the sight of the cute cakes on display. Zamian’s attention was also fixed on their daughter, his expression softening as he watched her with an intensity that was almost reverent overwhelmed by the profoundness of finally seeing her.

Mira joined her grandfather, who was discussing something with the delivery lady, seemingly unaware of Zamian’s presence. But the delivery lady had already noticed him; she had bowed and greeted him respectfully, though Mira hadn’t realized. Her attention was focused on her grandfather as he finally addressed her.

"I asked about the payment," her grandfather began, his voice calm but firm, "and she explained that the compensation was used to pay for the cake. Apparently, the money you initially sent wasn’t enough."

Mira blinked in surprise. She had been so sure she had sent the correct amount. Why would they say this now? she wondered, glancing at the delivery lady, who looked slightly flustered.

Meanwhile, Zamian’s gaze remained fixed on a particular cake that had caught Little Zami’s attention—a Hello Kitty-shaped cake, decorated with bright pink frosting and sparkly details. He observed his daughter’s excitement, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched her admire the cake.

After a moment, he pointed to the cake. "That one. Package it. I want it," he said simply. The delivery lady nodded, bowing again before moving to wrap up the cake. Mira’s confusion grew. Why was Zamian doing this? Why was he acting like... like a father?

Just then, before anyone could react, Little Zami ran up to him, her tiny arms wrapping tightly around his leg. Zamian looked down, startled, his pupils dilating as he registered the small arms hugging him. His gaze softened in a way that Mira had never seen before. He hadn’t expected this.

What was this strange feeling stirring inside him? Or was it because he was finally meeting his daughter.

He crouched down slowly, unsure of what to do, and gently patted her head. Little Zami looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Thank wyou, Mr. Stwanger," she said in her small voice, beaming up at him.

Zamian nodded, but the word "stranger" struck a chord deep within him. He wasn’t a stranger to her—he was her father. Why couldn’t she call him ’Daddy’? The thought sent a pang through him, making him realize just how much he longed to hear that word from her. Without realizing it, a soft smile crossed his face as he imagined the day when she might call him "Daddy." The very idea filled him with a warmth he hadn’t felt in years.

Little Zami, oblivious to the emotions swirling around her, continued to squeal happily. Mira couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her daughter’s joy, even though the situation felt surreal. She glanced at Zamian, and in a soft voice, barely audible, whispered, "Thank you." She wasn’t sure he had heard her, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it louder.

Then, gathering her courage, she walked toward him. Little Zami was still tugging on his trousers, looking up at him with adoration. Zamian didn’t seem to mind—in fact, he seemed to enjoy it. The fact that his daughter wasn’t afraid of him, despite his cold aura, filled him with a quiet pride. Fearless, he thought, a small, involuntary smile appearing on his face. Just like me.

Finally, Mira spoke up, breaking the moment. "Thank you so much. I’ll... I’ll pay you back... later," she said, her voice formal and hesitant.

Instantly, his demeanor shifted. His expression darkened, his aura growing suffocating again as he looked at her.

Why so distant? The question twisted in his mind, filling him with insecurities he hadn’t expected to feel. He didn’t want to believe that she had moved on. The thought alone was unbearable. Did she...? Could she be with someone else now?

The possibility darkened his gaze, and Mira noticed the shift, sensing the tension building. In an attempt to lighten the mood, she quickly added, "Alright, fine. I’ll take this as a birthday present for Zami."

Little Zami squealed in delight, clapping her hands and giggling. "Thank wyou! Mummy Thank wyou, Mr. Stwanger!" she exclaimed, her joy bubbling over as she nestled against him. The innocence in her voice, the genuine excitement, made Zamian’s heart swell. He hadn’t realized just how much he needed this moment, how much he longed to be close to her.

Unable to contain his emotions any longer, he reached down and scooped Little Zami up into his arms. He just needed to hold her, to feel her warmth, to make up for the years he hadn’t been there. As he looked at her, he was certain that she was the most beautiful child in the world. How could she not be, with him and Mira as her parents?

Just then, Little Zami wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. Zamian froze, his heart pounding in his chest. Not only was he stunned by her sudden show of affection, but Mira seemed equally shocked. She hadn’t expected this from her daughter, who was usually cautious around strangers. The only other person Zami had ever shown this kind of openness with, aside from her and her grandfather, was Mark.

"Thank you, thank you again, Mr. Stranger!" Little Zami repeated, her voice softening as she nestled comfortably in his arms. She seemed so content, so at ease, that it broke something inside him—a wall he hadn’t known he’d built around his heart.

Zamian’s expression grew serious as he looked into his daughter’s eyes. He wanted to tell her the truth, wanted her to know who he was. Gently, he whispered,

"I’m not a stranger. I’m your..."

But before he could finish, Mira cut in abruptly. "Mr. Zamian," she said, her tone firm and controlled, her eyes warning him.

Zamian’s eyes widened in shock.

What just happened? He could only stare at Mira, questions swirling in his mind.