Chapter 27 Pictures Of Me

Chapter 27 Pictures Of Me
~ ELI’S POV

"No, I don’t want cookies," I said to Florence, the maid working here.

I was sitting on the chair at the kitchen counter, drinking coffee. I needed it to boost my energy and help me think straight, because apparently I wasn’t. At least, that’s how Malik made me feel today. 

I didn’t understand what was wrong with him or why he acted the way he did. Joseph was clearly a great person, and it seemed like he really cared about Malik, so why does Malik hate him with such passion?

I think Malik just hates everyone because even his mother and sister don’t seem to have a good relationship with him. It’s like when it comes to everyone Malik just hates them. He’s the problem… he has to be. 

As I kept sipping my coffee, I accidentally spilled it on my dress.

Now I was even more upset. This day kept getting worse and worse.

"Let me quickly get you a napkin to wipe it off," Florence said in her French accent.

"No, thank you. I’ll just change the shirt," I said, standing up.

I made my way to the bathroom and then into the closet to find something to wear. Checking each of the drawers, I couldn’t find anything that matched the color of skirt I was already wearing.

I opened another one, and when I reached the last drawer, my eyes landed on some photos tucked in the corner. I hesitated for a second, then picked them up.

At first, I assumed they belonged to Malik, but the moment my eyes focused on them, my heart stopped cold.

They weren’t ordinary photographs. They were of me—moments I never remembered, captured without my knowing. Worse, each one showed me asleep.

I shuffled through them with trembling hands. Three in total. All of me lying in bed, unaware, exposed.

I started wondering how it was possible, but then Malik came to mind. It had to be him. He was the only one I shared this room with, the only one bold enough to cross such a line. But why? Why would he take photos of me while I was sleeping?

The more I thought about it, the less sense it made. But what I did know was clear—Malik had gone too far, and there was no way I was letting him get away with it.

I can tolerate his little disrespect and attitude but this… this is just too far. I won’t spare him. 

I stormed out of the room, fury boiling in my chest. As I made my way down the stairs, Emma caught sight of me.

"Hi, Bella," She said grinning.

I didn’t bother responding to her. My anger was too sharp, my mind too consumed.

At the bottom of the stairs, I turned to Florence who was cleaning "Where’s Malik?"

She looked confused for a moment then replied "In the study,"

Without hesitation, I marched straight there. I didn’t bother knocking, I shoved the door open and stepped inside. Malik was hunched over his laptop, he looked exhausted. The moment he saw me, his expression darkened.

"Why are you here?" He asked, glancing at me before turning back to the screen. "Whatever it is, I don’t have time for it. Leave."

I ignored him. My steps were sharp against the floor as I crossed the room and slammed the photographs onto his desk. "What are these?"

He didn’t even look. "What do they look like?"

"I’m not here to play games, Malik," I snapped. "Answer me! What are these?"

This time he looked down. His eyes widened for an instant before his face hardened with anger. "Why the hell were you going through my drawer?"

"Why the hell were you taking pictures of me while I was sleeping?" I shot back.

His jaw clenched. "You weren’t supposed to see them."

"Well, thank God I did," I yelled. "Now I know what kind of psycho you are. Why did you do it? No, no…. what the hell were you thinking? Are you insane?"

He shot up from his chair, "I don’t want you touching my stuff, do you hear me? You had no right to go through my things. No right." His voice cracked with anger.

"And you had no right to take pictures of me," I fired back. The fact that he’s angry when I’m the only one supposed to be angry makes me even more angry. 

His jaw clenched. "I can do whatever I want. Remember, this is my house and I have the right to do anything I want."

I shook my head, my voice raising "No, Malik. That’s not how it works. You don’t live here alone anymore. Other people are here, people you’re supposed to respect." I yelled "And also, I’m your wife so indirectly this house belongs to me too so quit it and stop with the nonsense. You are not to take pictures of me without my permission." 

I went yelling at him and he just stood there watching me, after a while he spoke 

"Stop shouting," He warned, his voice sharp but low.

"No!" I pushed back, "I’ll keep shouting until you tell me why you have those pictures."

He pressed his fingers to his temple, exhaling sharply. "I said stop. You’re giving me a headache." 

But I didn’t stop. The words kept spilling out, louder each time, my anger pushing me forward. I wanted an answer, I needed one and I must get it. 

Suddenly, Malik snapped. He grabbed the mug of coffee sitting on his desk and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall beside me, shattering and spraying hot liquid across the floor. My breath caught—if it had touched me, I would’ve been burned.

I stared at him in shock as he stepped closer. "Don’t you ever come into my space and scream at me like that. You don’t own this place, I do." His hand clamped around my arm and he snatched the photos from my grip.

Then his voice dropped, low and cold. "Yes, I took them. So what? You act like it’s some big deal, but it’s not. You should be grateful I even took the pictures."

He shoved my hand away, "And those pictures? They’re nothing. You should see the private photos I have of you."

My stomach dropped. "What private photos?"

The way he looked at me and the silence between us told me those photos are the kind I’m going to hate him for.