Forbiddenly Bound To You
Chapter 60: Measuring Hearts

Chapter 60: Measuring Hearts

Mira gasped as she slowly backed away, like a thief caught in the act. The words refused to come out, or perhaps she simply had nothing to say.

Zamian opened his eyes and turned to her, a smirk tugging at his lips. Mira bit her upper lip, searching for an excuse, but he just stared at her. At the very least, he should say something. Just as she was about to speak again, he broke the silence.

"Who knew you could do this, huh?" he asked, turning to the side and resting his face on the pillow, his hair falling toward his forehead. She couldn’t help but think he always looked handsome, no matter what he did. It was infuriating.

"No!" Mira blurted out. "This is the first time I—"

"Really?" Zamian asked, his eyes lazily studying her, a playful glint evident in their depths.

"Yes... and please stop looking at me like that." Her cheeks tinged pink as she tried to avert her gaze.

"Like what?" he replied, feigning innocence as he sat up.

"You know!" Oh Lord, why was she stuttering right now? It was embarrassing.

"No, I don’t," Zamian teased, his tone light but his eyes sparkling with mischief. "So why did you stop touching me?"

Mira’s heart raced at his words. "I—uh... I promise this was the first—" Just as she was about to finish her sentence, Zamian was already on top of her, his legs between hers as he leaned in closer. His voice was lazy yet smooth, sending shivers down her spine.

"Then this would also be considered my first." He leaned closer, giving her earlobe a slow, teasing suck. Mira’s breath hitched, her pulse quickening. He then pulled away, his eyes glinting with amusement. "As promised, we’ll be starting our practice session now."

Mira’s eyes widened in disbelief. "I—I’m tired," she stammered, hoping to deflect the situation.

Zamian stared at her for a moment before pulling away slightly. "Sleep, then. I need you to be energized for our practice."

"Energized?" Mira wondered, feeling a mix of confusion and anticipation. What did that have to do with their practice? Her cheeks flushed at the implications.

"Sleep and stop thinking dirty," Zamian said, a teasing tone in his voice that only made her blush deepen.

"I—I’m not!" Mira protested, her face heating up further.

"You are," Zamian replied, settling back into his usual position as if he was entirely unfazed by her embarrassment. Mira shut her eyes, trying to compose herself amidst the playful banter.

"You are. See? Your face is red," he pointed out, the teasing in his voice evident.

Mira opened her eyes, widening further when she noticed Zamian staring at her, an amused smile playing on his lips. "I was j-just..."

"Just what?" he asked, leaning in closer, his smirk growing.

"Just..." She struggled for words, flustered by the intensity of his gaze.

"Mmhmm."

"I want to sleep," Mira finally said, turning her back to him in a feeble attempt to hide her embarrassment.

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and playful, resonating within her.

She knew he had never laughed with his eyes before, but the sound of his chuckling made her want to hear more. Each soft burst of laughter sparked warmth within her, drawing her closer. It was a sound she craved, but one she knew wouldn’t last long. Mira finally closed her eyes to sleep, letting the warmth of the moment wash over her.

Meanwhile,Lily and James sat in the living room. James had already finished his bath and was dressed in one of Lily’s baggy shirts and trousers. Her mom sat nearby, wanting to speak to them.

"So, how long have you two been dating?" she asked, her tone curious but also probing.

Lily avoided her mom’s gaze for a moment before James spoke up. "Since yesterday."

Lily’s mom’s eyes widened in surprise, her expression shifting from curiosity to mild shock. She wanted to say something, but decided it would be best for Lily and James to handle it themselves.

Not long after, both Lily and James’ phones pinged. Lily glanced at James, who immediately pulled out his phone. As he opened the email, his eyes widened, and he nearly coughed in surprise. Lily did the same, her eyes growing wide as well.

"What’s the problem?" her mom asked, noticing their startled reactions.

James finally spoke, "It’s my boss."

"And my co-worker is having a wedding next week," Lily added quickly. "It says we’re invited—invite for two."

Her mom nodded, but the news was shocking for James, who hadn’t anticipated such an invitation. It wasn’t really surprising for Lily; she hadn’t been fully aware of the details leading up to this moment. For James, it was unexpected since he thought his boss would have delayed planning a wedding, especially considering his contract marriage with Mira.

Lily’s mom continued, "Okay then, you two need to get ready. You have to find outfits for the wedding."

Just as they were about to finish discussing the invitation, another email pinged on both their phones simultaneously. James and Lily’s mouths dropped open in unison, prompting her mom to wonder what was going on.

"What’s with the surprise?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

James spoke first, "Oh, they just sent a message saying I’m Mr. Zamian’s best man."

Lily chimed in, "And I just got a message saying I’m Mira’s bridesmaid."

The news hung in the air, leaving both of them processing the whirlwind of events. For James, the realization that he would be standing by Zamian on such a significant day felt monumental. For Lily, the thought of being Mira’s bridesmaid filled her with excitement, mixed with a touch of apprehension.

As they absorbed the implications of the emails, the atmosphere in the room shifted. Excitement mixed with nervousness as they both began to discuss what outfits would be appropriate for the wedding, their voices filled with animated chatter.

Mira woke up and looked around. The bed was empty—Zamian must have left. She quickly got up, walked to the bathroom, and freshened up. After slipping into a baggy t-shirt and a long maxi skirt, she tied her hair into a messy bun and headed downstairs.

Just as she reached the top of the stairs, she spotted Zamian sitting on the sofa with two other people. Did they have visitors? She hesitated, about to turn back to change into proper clothes when Zamian spoke.

"No need," he said, as if he could read her mind.

Mira paused, then continued down the stairs, curiosity piqued. How had Zamian seen her from that angle? How could he read her expression from that distance? He was downstairs, while she was still on the stairs.

A note of curiosity lingering. This wasn’t the first time she found herself in such a predicament. Why did she always encounter visitors when her hair was a mess and her outfit was so casual? It seemed to happen every time.

As she reached the bottom, Zamian stretched out his hand, patting the space next to him for her to sit. She settled beside him, and the two visitors greeted her.

"Good morning, Mrs. Zamian," the lady said. Mira noticed the lady was middle-aged, while the man appeared to be in his late twenties. Both were sweating profusely, which puzzled her. The atmosphere felt normal; the air conditioning was working perfectly, so what was the reason for their discomfort?

Then it struck her: Zamian’s intimidating aura was likely the cause.

"We’re here to take measurements for the wedding," the lady continued, breaking the silence.

Mira nodded, trying to absorb the news. "Good morning."

The lady pulled out a measuring tape and some other equipment. Mira wondered if they were trying to make her a custom-made wedding gown. She wasn’t surprised; after all, Zamian could do anything. They could probably prepare her a gown in less than three days before the wedding.

The lady continued, "After the measurements, you and Mr. Zamian will choose a style for the wedding." Mira nodded, and the lady handed the measuring tape to the man in his late twenties to begin measuring her.

Suddenly, Zamian’s expression shifted, and the atmosphere grew thicker. The man’s hands began to tremble as he spoke. "Mrs. Mira, could you please stand?"

Mira nodded, but Zamian interjected, "Who is measuring her?" The tension in the room escalated, filling the air with an unspoken challenge.

Mira turned to Zamian, confused by his reaction. It wasn’t bad for a man to measure her as long as he was professional. The lady sensed the shift and spoke up, "Excuse me, sir. He’s the one measuring her."

"Why him?" Zamian pressed, his tone heavy with protectiveness.

The lady responded, "Oh, Mr. Zamian, I assure you he’s very professional. Nothing will happen."

But Zamian stretched out his hand, determination in his voice. "Give me the measuring tape. I will measure my wife; after all, I can be professional."