Forbiddenly Bound To You
Chapter 71: Better To Die

Chapter 71: Better To Die

Her body shivered silently as the hiccups persisted, soft sobs escaping her in uneven intervals. Mira sat in the passenger seat, her gaze fixed out the window, as though hoping to conceal the pain etched on her face. Zamian glanced over, unsure how to handle the tension building between them. She was trying so hard to hide her tears, but he saw through it all—he always did.

With a quiet sigh, he pressed a button on the car’s dashboard. A hidden compartment opened, revealing several bottles of water and soft drinks nestled in the cooler. He grabbed a bottle of water and closed the compartment before turning back to her.

"Mira..." he began slowly, his voice cautious, careful not to alarm her. It was as if he feared his words might shatter her fragile state. "Are you okay?"

There was a moment of silence as she hesitated to answer, her head still turned toward the window. Slowly, she turned to face him, her eyes swollen and red, streaks of tears running down her cheeks. Her lips quivered as she tried to form words, but they came out barely louder than a whisper.

"No... I’m not okay," she whispered, her voice weak and broken. "I’m not okay." She paused, lowering her gaze, almost as if ashamed to meet his eyes. "Do you think it’s better... to die?" Her voice was barely audible, as though she were speaking to herself more than to him.

Zamian froze, his entire body stiffening at her words. His pupils dilated as the meaning of her question hit him like a wave. Did she really just say that? His breath caught in his throat, and a mixture of disbelief swirled inside him. The word "die" had never sounded so wrong, so unsettling, coming from her.

"Mira..." he murmured, his voice soft but urgent. "Don’t say that." He quickly unscrewed the cap of the water bottle and handed it to her. "Here, drink this."

Mira accepted the bottle, her fingers trembling slightly as she brought it to her lips. She gulped down the water in silence, her eyes focused on the bottle as if it were the only thing anchoring her to reality. Zamian watched her, an unease settling deep in his chest. The thought of Mira, of all people, talking about death was like a dagger to his heart. He couldn’t understand what had pushed her to this point, but he knew that whatever it was, it terrified him.

For a brief moment, her eyes went distant, lost in some far-off place. Perhaps she truly believed that the world would be better without her, that her absence would be a blessing rather than a curse. The guilt of her past, the sins she thought she carried, weighed her down.

Just then, the car came to a smooth stop, snapping them both out of the heavy atmosphere that had enveloped them. Zamian stepped out first, the crisp air hitting him as he moved to Mira’s side of the car. He stretched out his hand toward her, and after a brief hesitation, she took it, stepping out onto the gravel path. For a moment, Mira stood still, taking in the scenery before them.

Before her stood a small, picturesque bungalow nestled in a valley by a river. The gentle murmur of the waterfall flowing beside it filled the air, adding to the dreamlike quality of the scene. On the other side of the river, a garden bloomed with roses and lilies, their vibrant colors making the entire area feel like something out of a storybook.

Mira blinked, the beauty of the place overwhelming her senses. Was this real? It looked too perfect, too serene to exist in the world she knew—a world filled with pain and regret. She had never imagined such peace could be within reach.

"We’re the only ones here," Zamian said quietly, stepping beside her. "Everything we need is inside."

Mira nodded, her mind still drifting in awe, as though she had stumbled into a dream. They walked toward the house, hand in hand, surrounded by the soothing sounds of nature. The chirping birds, the rustling leaves in the gentle breeze—it was all like therapy, a balm to her troubled soul.

A man approached them, carrying several boxes from the car into the house. He moved swiftly, his actions professional yet respectful. Once the last box was unloaded, he gave a deep bow before heading toward another car, driving away as instructed by Zamian earlier.

With the man gone, Mira and Zamian were left alone, the quiet of nature their only company. Together, they walked toward the house. As they entered, Mira’s eyes widened in surprise. The interior was even more stunning than she had imagined. The entire space was beautifully interconnected, with no barriers between the rooms, giving the house an open and inviting feel.

To one side, a sleek kitchen counter gleamed in the soft light filtering through the windows, complete with all the essentials. On the other side, a charming dining table was set for two, its delicate arrangement hinting at intimacy. Further in, a cozy sofa faced a large TV, while across the room sat a luxurious king-sized bed, its plush sheets and pillows inviting her to sink into them. In the far corner, a see-through bathroom with glass walls added a final touch of modern elegance to the design.

The view was breathtaking. Whoever had designed this place clearly had a talent for blending beauty and comfort. Mira couldn’t help but feel as if she had wandered into a sanctuary, a place so far removed from the world’s ugliness.

"Do you like it?" Zamian asked, his voice breaking the silence.

Mira nodded, still lost in awe.

But just as she was beginning to feel at ease, Zamian’s voice hardened, bringing her back to the reality of their earlier conversation.

"Never say that again," he said, his voice tight with emotion.

Mira blinked, confused. "Huh?"

"Never say that you want to die again," he repeated, his voice firmer this time. "Never." The intensity in his tone sent a shiver down her spine. His eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, she saw something in them—fear, and a deep, unspoken concern that he couldn’t fully express.

"That was impossible." Mira blinked, her mind struggling to process what she had just seen. ’I must have seen wrong’ Her heart pounded as doubt and confusion clouded her thoughts.

She shifted her gaze to the side, nervously clasping her hands together. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve as she nodded in silence, unsure of how to respond.

With the mood still heavy between them, Mira walked toward the bed, where one of the boxes had been placed. She knelt down and opened it, only to feel her cheeks flush as her eyes widened in surprise.

"Why... why are they all... see-through?" she stammered, lifting one of the delicate nightgowns from the box. The sheer fabric left little to the imagination, and the thought of wearing something so revealing in front of Zamian made her heart race.

Zamian, noticing her discomfort, glanced at the nightwear and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "I’ll send for something else."

He fumbled for his phone, only to realize it was switched off. Frustrated, he sighed and shoved it back into his pocket.

Mira’s eyes darted between the flimsy clothing and Zamian, her cheeks growing even warmer. "You can’t be serious..." she muttered under her breath, staring at the see-through garment. She glanced back into the box, hoping to find something more appropriate, but to her dismay, it was all the same.

"You can manage those," Zamian mumbled, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. "I’ve already seen everything anyway..."

Mira’s eyes shot up in shock. "Please, stop talking!" she begged, her face now a deep shade of pink. She buried her face in her hands, too embarrassed to meet his gaze.

Zamian’s awkwardness only deepened as he looked away, his own face flushing slightly. "Just... manage it for today," he muttered, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

Mira, desperate for an alternative, glanced at Zamian’s clothes. "I could wear yours," she suggested, her voice small but hopeful.

Zamian turned toward her, considering the idea. "They’re big," he said, walking over to his own suitcase, "but let’s see."

He opened his bag and pulled out a large shirt. Mira grabbed it, holding it up to her small frame. The shirt was oversized, but it would do. The trousers, on the other hand, were far too large for her to even attempt wearing.

"I’ll wear this," she mumbled, clutching the shirt to her chest. She looked at him nervously. "Can you... cover the bathroom?"

Zamian, understanding her request, walked over to the bathroom door and pressed a button. The frosted glass walls slid into place, providing her with the privacy she needed.

Mira turned back to her box, rummaging for underwear. She spotted a small bag to the side and opened it. Her eyes widened in disbelief.

"N... net?" she whispered, holding up a pair of nearly invisible, see-through lingerie.

Zamian, clueless about her dilemma, glanced over.

"Then don’t wear anything underneath,"