Forbiddenly Bound To You
Chapter 133: Something Off

Chapter 133: Something Off

Mira tilted her head, her brows knitting together as she studied him. Something was definitely off, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Was he annoyed? Upset? The tension radiating from him was palpable, but she had no clue why. She knew Zamian well enough to sense when something was wrong, but this... this was different. This was something she couldn’t quite place.

He stood there, silent, his posture rigid. His jaw clenched tightly, and she could see the muscle in his neck flexing as if he were holding something in—something dangerous, something he wasn’t ready to release.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked softly, her voice tentative, like she was walking on the edge of a precipice. The words felt too light for the gravity of the situation. She had been quiet for a while, letting him brood in silence, and now, it seemed like he was calculating something, as if weighing her words. Her voice faltered slightly, unsure of whether she should push further or give him the space he clearly needed. But she needed answers. She needed to understand.

His gaze shifted toward her, and for a moment, she saw something flicker in his eyes—a flash of something that sent a shiver crawling up her spine. He said nothing at first. His face was unreadable, but his eyes—they were intense, too intense. She felt the weight of his silence like a heavy blanket, suffocating her.

Then, his lips parted, his voice low, steady—almost too steady. "Say it again."

Mira blinked, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Huh? Say what again?"

He stepped closer, closing the space between them, and Mira’s breath caught in her throat. His eyes didn’t leave hers, his presence pressing on her like a physical force. The air between them thickened, and she could feel her pulse quicken, the beat of her heart thundering in her chest. Her stomach fluttered uneasily.

"Honey," he said, his voice smooth but edged with something else—something possessive. "Say it again."

Her eyes widened slightly. She had no idea what was going on. Her mind scrambled for an explanation. What was this all about? Her thoughts were hazy, but her body, it knew something was off. "Honey?" she repeated slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. Her words hung in the air, uncertain, like she was testing the waters, unsure of how he would react. She wasn’t sure what he wanted from her, but whatever it was, it felt like a trap.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. It was rare—a genuine smile—but it did little to ease the knot that had formed in her stomach. In fact, it only made things worse. There was a predatory edge to it, a sharpness to his expression that made her hesitate, made her question what he was really thinking. Slowly, Zamian reached out, his fingers brushing against her chin, tilting her head up, forcing her to meet his gaze.

His touch was gentle, almost too gentle, but it felt like a command. Her breath caught as she stared into the depths of his eyes, feeling the weight of his gaze press into her like an anchor. She had no choice but to look into them, as though she were falling into a deep, endless abyss. The intensity of it all made her feel small, helpless, vulnerable.

His voice dropped to a whisper, low and dangerous, laced with an unmistakable possessiveness that sent a chill down her spine. "I don’t like you complimenting other men."

Mira blinked, the realization dawning on her with a slow, sinking feeling. Oh. This was about earlier, when she had mentioned that his assistant was nice. It was nothing more than an observation, a casual remark. She hadn’t meant it as a compliment—not the way he seemed to interpret it. But the way he was looking at her now... it was as though she had crossed some invisible line.

But she knew better than to argue with him. Zamian wasn’t the type to let things slide. If she pushed back, it would only make things worse. She had learned that much. So, instead, she nodded slowly, her expression calm, understanding—or at least, she hoped it appeared that way. She couldn’t let her discomfort show.

"I didn’t mean it like that," she said softly, her voice gentle but firm. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him or herself. "I was just saying he was being professional."

Zamian’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of doubt crossing his features as if he were considering her words. For a long moment, the air between them hung heavy with uncertainty. Mira held her breath, waiting. She could feel the tension building, the silence pressing in on her. The seconds felt like hours. Finally, he released her chin, his grip loosening slightly as he straightened, his hand falling back to his side.

The faint smile returned to his lips, though it still held an edge of intensity, of warning. He wasn’t letting this go—not completely. "You’re mine, Mira," he said, his voice low but firm, like a statement of fact, something undeniable. "Don’t forget that."

Mira’s heart skipped a beat, her pulse racing at his words. She wasn’t sure if it was the possessiveness in his tone or the way he claimed her so effortlessly, but something inside her stirred. It wasn’t fear—not exactly. It was something more complex. She swallowed, trying to steady herself under his gaze. Her cheeks warmed, and she nodded, even though a small part of her rebelled at the ownership in his words.

"I won’t," she murmured, her voice barely audible, her gaze dropping to the ground as she tried to quell the rush of emotions swirling inside her. Was it love? Was it something darker? She wasn’t sure anymore.

Satisfied, Zamian stepped back, his usual composed demeanor slipping back into place. The tension in the air didn’t fully dissipate, but at least he had stepped away, physically if not emotionally. The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open with a soft whoosh. Without another word, he gestured for her to step out first.

As she walked ahead, her mind raced, the weight of the conversation still hanging over her like a storm cloud. She could feel his eyes on her, the intensity of his gaze burning into her back. She couldn’t help but steal a glance over her shoulder, and for a brief moment, she caught the softening of his expression—a fleeting glimpse of something human behind the walls he so carefully constructed around himself.

Despite everything, there was something oddly reassuring about the way he claimed her, about the way he made her feel like she belonged to him. It wasn’t love, not exactly, but it was... something. And as much as she hated to admit it, she didn’t entirely mind it. Not entirely.

Mira sank into the plush leather seat beside Zamian in the car, her thoughts adrift. The smooth hum of the engine beneath her was oddly comforting, but there was still that nagging unease lingering at the back of her mind. She couldn’t shake it. Something wasn’t right, but she couldn’t figure out what.

It took her a moment to realize something unusual—Zamian was driving. Her head snapped toward him, her brow furrowing in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to be the one behind the wheel. She had always assumed someone else would be driving.

"You’re driving?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity, her eyes studying him closely.

Zamian gave a short nod, his lips quirking up in the faintest of smiles, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Of course I am. I want my daughter to see that her father can drive very well."

Mira blinked, caught off guard. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought. Zamian, who rarely left the confines of his luxurious home, was suddenly playing the role of the perfect driver. There was something strangely endearing about it. She realized then that this wasn’t just about driving—it was about proving himself. To their daughter. To her.

She felt a swell of warmth in her chest at the thought. He wanted to be someone their daughter could look up to. He didn’t want her to see him as distant or incapable. He wanted to be her hero.

The car was quiet, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. It was peaceful, even. But that nagging feeling still lingered, faint but persistent, like a whisper at the edge of her consciousness. Mira tried to push it aside, to focus on the moment, but it wouldn’t go away.

Then, suddenly, Zamian’s phone rang, breaking the fragile peace between them. He answered quickly, his voice brief and clipped. "Okay," he said, before hanging up just as abruptly.

Mira turned to him, her curiosity piqued. "Who was that?" she asked, trying to make sense of the sudden shift in his mood.

Zamian’s expression shifted slightly, though his voice remained calm when he replied. "It’s about Zami’s school. They suggested we take her to a museum for a visit. They think it’ll be a good experience."

Mira nodded thoughtfully, her lips curving into a small smile. "That sounds great. I’ve always wanted to visit a museum," she admitted, her voice light with the thought. "It’ll be even better to go together as a family."

Zamian glanced at her, his eyes softening for a brief moment, touched by her enthusiasm. But the warmth didn’t linger long. As the car continued on, the atmosphere in the vehicle began to subtly shift, like the air thickening with something unspoken.

The car’s speed gradually increased, a small change that Mira at first attributed to Zamian’s usual desire to impress. After all, it was a sports car—sleek, powerful, and meant to draw attention. He had mentioned earlier that he wanted to impress their daughter, and part of her believed this was just him showing off.

But as the seconds passed, Mira began to sense a shift. Zamian’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his brow furrowing ever so slightly. The acceleration wasn’t just about speed—it was deliberate, too fast for a casual ride. The engine hummed louder, and Mira could feel the subtle vibrations as the car surged forward.

She looked out of the window, watching the blur of trees and buildings rush past. The silence between them had deepened, and despite the faint thrum of the engine, it felt deafening. Mira swallowed, her body tensing with each passing mile. There was a tightness in her chest that she couldn’t ignore, an unfamiliar tension creeping up her spine. What was going on?