Chapter 37 Attacked at midnight
Amrah
‘Studying was better than drowning in tears’ those were the words I said to myself having cried for about five minutes by the door.
I washed my face and did a simple skincare routine before going to my study room to start working on the building model for the contest project.
After about two hours of work, my eyes began to protest, not because I was sleepy but because I needed to rest my eyes.
Why was I doing this to myself?
Avoiding Zayd, refusing to see him, and torturing myself when all he had done was... not tell me about Chris. My chest tightened at the thought of Chris's name.
I didn't even want to think about it right now. But I also couldn't sleep because I couldn't stop thinking.
Would I have even believed Zayd if he'd told me? Or would I have just assumed he was trying to paint Chris in a bad light to make himself look better?
I probably wouldn't have believed him. I would have thought he was jealous, manipulative, trying to turn me against Chris for his own gain.
Maybe that's why he didn't say anything.
My mind kept replaying every interaction with Zayd, searching for signs I had missed, or clues I should have seen.
The way he had looked at me when I told him to leave, the resignation in his eyes—
Crash!
I bolted upright, heart hammering against my ribs. The sound had definitely come from my living room.
For a split second, I froze, then I tried to calm my racing heart, Edison was out there and would handle whoever had just broken in.
I should be used to this, but I can't.
I slipped out of bed, treading silently to the door, my hand trembled slightly as I reached for the doorknob. I should stay put, and let Edison do his job. But something pulled me forward, some instinct I couldn't name.
I opened the door and tiptoed down the hallway, keeping close to the wall. The sounds of a struggle reached me, grunts of effort, the shuffle of feet, the thud of bodies connecting.
My pulse raced as I approached the living room.
What I saw made me stop dead in my tracks.
Zayd.
He was engaged in what could only be described as a serious but harmless combat with Edison. They moved with practiced precision, blocking and countering each other's moves, but neither seemed to be going all out.
Zayd's movements were fluid, almost casual, like he was holding back significantly. Edison wasn't trying to hurt him either, it was more like they were sparring than actually fighting.
"Eddie, stop."
They both froze mid-movement, turning to look at me.
Edison straightened immediately, slightly out of breath. "He broke in through the balcony, are you sure—"
"Let him be," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.
Edison hesitated, his protective instincts clearly warring with his obedience. Finally, he stepped back, giving Zayd one last warning glare. Zayd lowered his hands, his breathing barely out of place despite the fight.
I turned to Edison. "Leave us, please."
"Miss…”
"It's fine. Really."
Edison nodded reluctantly and retreated to wherever he had always hid himself, though I could feel his disapproval he went off.
"I remember telling you to leave me," I said, turning to Zayd as I crossed my arms over my chest suddenly aware of how little I was wearing.
"I couldn't," he replied simply.
"You—" I gestured helplessly at the balcony door, then at him. "That's why you broke in and fought Eddie?"
Zayd looked slightly sheepish which did something to my heart, “I'm sorry, Amrah. I should have told you earlier, but I thought you wouldn't believe me anyway."
My breath caught. "What? You know why I'm refusing to see you?"
"Daphy told me."
All this while, as I worked, I had assumed Zayd had simply accepted my dismissal and left me. He was probably tired of our ridiculous and nameless relationship—if it could be called one.
I had felt disappointed that he hadn't pushed harder, that he left so easily. But he hadn't resigned himself at all. He had actually made an effort—a dramatic, slightly crazy effort that involved scaling my balcony and facing down my bodyguard.
I melted right there, all my anger dissolving so easily.
"Yeah... I wouldn't have believed you," I admitted, my voice softer now. "But then I thought you didn't tell me because you two wanted to play around with me."
Zayd's expression turned deadly serious, he took a step closer, “I would never do that. I promise."
I searched his face, looking for any hint of deception. His eyes held mine with an intensity that made my knees weak. I could see the sincerity there, genuine and raw. But after what Chris did, a small part of me couldn't stop doubting, couldn't fully let my guard down.
‘Fuck it,’ I thought. I'll just enjoy the moment.
"Ah... it's... I will think about it. Leave."
But Zayd didn't move.
Instead, he walked over to my couch and sat down, spreading out his long legs and settling in like he owned the place.
"What?" I stared at him in confusion.
"I'm not leaving." His voice was matter-of-fact, final.
"What do you mean you're not leaving?"
Why did he look so hot in a casual black cotton shirt and sweatpants? Why does his hair keep inviting me to touch it as we kiss?
"I'm staying to protect you."
“What?” his sudden declaration pulled me out of my straying thoughts.
“I'm staying to protect you”
“I have a bodyguard to do that. Besides, I told you to leave because I'm still angry at you."
Even as the words left my mouth, I knew they were a lie. I wasn't angry anymore—or if I was, it was fading fast.
What I really wanted was to cross the room, climb onto his lap, wrap my arms around him, and kiss him until neither of us could think straight.
Zayd's lips curved into a small smile, pride playing across his features. "I am your bodyguard for now. He didn't do his job well, after all. I was able to break in, and I could have easily subdued him."
"You're impossible," I said, but there was no heat in it.
"Maybe." He patted the seat beside him. "But I'm also right here, and I'm not going anywhere until we talk this through."
I stood there, torn between maintaining my facade of anger and giving in to what I actually wanted.
Zayd watched me patiently, his dark eyes warm and understanding, as he could see right through my defenses and didn't mind waiting for me to lower them on my own terms.
Finally, I sighed and moved toward the couch.
"You're really not going to leave?" I asked, looking between the space he patted and his lap.
"Really not."
Despite everything, I felt a smile tugging at my lips. "You're lucky I'm too tired to physically throw you out."
"I'm lucky for a lot of reasons," Zayd said quietly.
My stomach flipped.
Damn you Zayd!