Forbiddenly Bound To You -
Chapter 108: We Had A Divorce
Chapter 108: We Had A Divorce
The celebration had ended, and as Mark prepared to leave, he decided to go early. The intense aura that Zamian emitted was something he knew he couldn’t handle.
Normally, Mark would bid Mira and Zami goodbye with a special handshake, but tonight he settled for a simple high-five before waving at Mira and heading out. Darkness had already enveloped the fading evening, and although Zamian remained deep in thought, Mira was relieved he hadn’t left immediately after the celebration. There was something she needed to discuss with him, not just for her sake but for her daughter’s as well.
After Mark’s departure, Mira went to the kitchen to prepare dinner, making sure to cook something even Zamian would enjoy. During the celebration, she had found herself glancing his way from time to time. Was it because he looked more handsome, even taller, and more captivating than she remembered? The thought made her cheeks flush with warmth. Goodness, what was she thinking?
As she finished up in the kitchen, Zamian entered, having just instructed little Zami on how to use her new iPad. Mira’s hands froze mid-motion when she suddenly felt the weight of Zamian’s hand on her waist.
"W-what... stop," she whispered, trying to steady her voice, though only she knew how much she craved the warmth of his touch. But she couldn’t give in. They were divorced, and little Zami could walk in at any moment. It wouldn’t be appropriate.
Understanding her hesitation, Zamian finally pulled away, though not without a slight smirk. He handed her the cutlery she had been arranging, and when she turned to face him, their gazes locked. Her heart fluttered, and she quickly looked away, blushing. Zamian chuckled softly, clearly amused.
She remembered the day they had cooked together as a family—the easy laughter, the way he’d held her hand when she almost dropped a pan. The memory stirred something bittersweet within her.
"Let’s go," he said gently, breaking her reverie. Together, they carried the dishes to the dining area and began setting the table. Mira was touched that Zamian still remembered exactly how they used to organize the cutlery. Despite everything, he hadn’t forgotten.
She wanted to tell him he didn’t need to worry about her, that she could manage on her own, but she knew Zamian well enough to know he wouldn’t listen. They finished setting up, and as they gathered around the table, little Zami, Mira, and Grandpa joined hands for a short prayer. Zamian joined in too, though he looked a bit unsure. Mira noticed but didn’t comment, appreciating his effort.
When they finished, they began to eat, savoring the quiet moment together.
"Mr. Zamian, will you stay here tonight?" Little Zami’s sweet voice broke the silence just as it threatened to become awkward. Mira glanced at her daughter, surprised, though she couldn’t deny her own curiosity about his answer.
"I’d like to. My car broke down, and it’ll be repaired tomorrow," Zamian replied smoothly. The truth was, his car was perfectly fine, but he was looking for an excuse to stay with them a little longer.
"I don’t know if I’m welcome here," he added, lowering his voice slightly. His words seemed to worry Little Zami, and he cast a brief, mischievous glance in Mira’s direction. She gave him a stern look that clearly said, Stop whatever you’re doing.
A slight, teasing smile played on his lips—not enough for Little Zami to notice, but Mira caught it.
"That’s not true! You’re welcome, right, Mummy?" Little Zami’s innocent eyes sparkled with hope as she looked between her parents.
Mira offered her daughter a warm smile before glancing at Zamian. "Of course," she replied. Zamian held back a smile as Zami beamed, nodding happily and resuming her meal. Mira was beginning to relax when she suddenly gasped, her hand shooting up to cover her mouth. Zamian’s hand was on her lap, resting there in a way that only she could feel. He seemed to be enjoying her reaction, and a small, smug smile crept onto his lips. Was he... teasing her?
"W-water," Mira managed to say, noticing the worried look on Zami’s face. If only her daughter knew everything was fine, Mira thought, though the heat in her cheeks said otherwise. She shot Zamian a warning glare, silently telling him to stop whatever he was doing. But he only smirked, keeping his hand on her lap while using his other to pass her the glass of water, acting as if he hadn’t caused the whole commotion.
"Careful next time," Zamian said, feigning innocence. Little Zami, reassured that her mom was alright, returned to eating without suspicion.
Before Mira could fully collect herself, she felt Zamian’s hand subtly begin to move upward—or was she imagining it? No, it was real. He was slowly, deliberately moving his hand higher, stopping just inches away from... Her heart thundered in her chest, the sensation filling her with nervous excitement. Why was she feeling this way? She felt a fluttering in her stomach that she hadn’t felt in a long time.
He began to caress her thigh in slow, gentle strokes, and Mira felt herself freeze, suddenly forgetting to chew the food in her mouth. She couldn’t think; all she could feel was the warmth of his hand, the delicate pressure on her thigh, and the rush of heat spreading through her body.
"Okay, Zami, let’s go for a bedtime story," Grandpa’s voice broke through the silence, jolting Mira back to reality. She barely resisted the urge to facepalm. Did Grandpa... notice? Oh, goodness, she hoped not.
Little Zami nodded eagerly. "Thank you, Mummy, for the food," she said sweetly, her small voice breaking through Mira’s inner turmoil.
Zamian quickly withdrew his hand, his movements so swift that little Zami didn’t notice a thing. She jumped up and hugged Mira tightly, who, despite her flustered state, wrapped her arms around her daughter, planting a soft kiss on her forehead.
"Good night, Mummy. Good night, Mr. Zamian," Little Zami said, her eyes twinkling with innocence.
"Good night, baby," Mira replied, watching as her daughter walked over to Grandpa, ready for her bedtime story. Once they left, the room seemed to grow quieter, and Mira felt Zamian’s gaze settle firmly on her.
They were finally alone.
"I know you’re here because of Zami," she murmured, keeping her gaze lowered, her voice barely a whisper. She didn’t want to assume he had stayed for any other reason. That would be foolish.
"I’m not just here for our daughter," Zamian replied softly, his voice laced with a warmth that caught her off guard. "I’m here for you too... my wife."
The word sent a shiver down her spine. My wife. How long had it been since she’d heard him say that? Mira bit her lip, trying to steady herself. She turned her face to the side, her gaze lowered to avoid meeting his intense stare.
"We’re no longer... married. We had a divorce..." Her voice faltered, but she forced the words out, needing to remind him, or perhaps herself, of their reality. They weren’t a family anymore, not in the way they once were.
Zamian interrupted, his gaze unwavering, a mix of resolve and tenderness in his expression. "We never had a divorce, Mira. I never signed."
The words hung heavily between them, filling the room with a silence thick with unspoken emotions. Mira’s breath caught, her mind racing with thoughts she hadn’t dared confront.
So all this time Zamian hadn’t signed the divorce? It hit Mira like a bolt of lightning—she was the only one who had signed, and that meant they were still legally married. The realization left her feeling dizzy, her heart racing as she struggled to process the implications.
"She wants to see her dad," Mira began, a heavy sigh escaping her lips as she stared deeply into Zamian’s eyes. There was something intense in his gaze that unnerved her but also ignited a flicker of hope. "I know I might be a burden, but please... could you find a time in the month to at least call or see her?"
Zamian’s expression shifted, his eyes turning cold. The weight of his silence pressed against her, making her feel small and vulnerable. "No. I want you two to come back home. We are still married, and mark this: I will never sign those divorce papers," he declared, his voice firm and unyielding.
Just as Mira moved to take the empty plate from the table, Zamian’s hand found her waist, pulling her down to sit on his lap. Her eyes widened in shock as her heart raced, the unexpected intimacy making her pulse quicken. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, enveloping her, and a wave of conflicting emotions washed over her.
"Z... Zamian, d... don’t. Z... Zami might see us," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. The proximity made it impossible to think straight.
"She won’t come here," he reassured, his breath warm against her skin. It felt as though he knew their daughter better than she did, and the thought unsettled her even further.
Zamian gently turned her face toward his, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes were filled with an intensity that made her heart flutter despite her better judgment. "Tell me, have I done anything wrong to you?" he asked, his voice low and laced with a vulnerability that caught her off guard.
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