Chapter 9: Beneath the surface
Immediately after Zamian closed the door behind him, Mira let out a loud exhale, feeling the weight of the moment bearing down on her. She couldn’t believe the surge of emotions she’d felt when he touched her earlier. The shock of his presence still lingered, unsettling her thoughts. She placed a hand over her chest, trying to steady her breathing. Why was he here, and why did his touch affect her so deeply? Her mind raced to make sense of the events that had unfolded since they’d last met, especially in the forest.
Before she could fully process her swirling emotions, there was a soft knock at the door. It was Nana, her personal maid. She gently called, "Ms. Mira, the Young Master requests your presence in the dining room. He would like you to join him for dinner."
Mira blinked, her thoughts momentarily interrupted. She nodded at Nana, though she still felt as if she was in a dream. Her mind, still tangled in confusion, couldn’t focus. Yet, she had to keep her composure. "Just four months," she whispered to herself as she stood up. "Four months, and then I’ll be free. I need to prepare, give him an heir, and then I can start my new life. I’ll endure this now so I can enjoy my freedom later." With that resolve firm in her mind, Mira squared her shoulders and headed for the dining room.
Upon entering the room, Mira couldn’t help but notice how impeccably set the table was. The atmosphere was formal, from the carefully arranged place settings to the elegant centerpiece. Zamian sat at the head of the long dining table, his posture perfect, his expression cold and unreadable as ever. He looked every bit the powerful CEO she knew him to be of course through her grandfather . The soft clinking of cutlery and hushed movements of the staff preparing the final touches were the only sounds breaking the silence.
Taking a seat across from him, Mira tried to appear composed, though inside, her thoughts were a tangled mess. Zamian glanced at her briefly before signaling for the staff to begin serving the meal. Each dish was presented with the precision and elegance one would expect in such a mansion, but Mira barely noticed. She was too lost in her thoughts, consumed with worry about the next four months and how she would navigate the difficult path ahead.
The tension in the room was palpable. Mira focused on the food before her, trying to ground herself in the present moment. Zamian , on the other hand, remained silent throughout the meal, his calm demeanor doing little to ease her nerves. His occasional glances only heightened her sense of unease. She couldn’t decipher what was going through his mind, and the uncertainty gnawed at her.
The silence stretched on as they ate, but Mira couldn’t stand it any longer. Her fingers clenched slightly around the fork as she spoke, her voice cutting through the quiet. "Mr. CEO," she began, pausing briefly to choose her words carefully. "You never told me your name."
Zamian’s expression didn’t change, but the air in the room grew heavier. The staff who had been serving their food seemed to stiffen, their eyes flicking nervously between the two. For a moment, it felt as though everyone in the room was holding their breath, waiting for Zamian’s response.
When he finally spoke, his voice was smooth, deep, and steady. "Zamian," he replied, as though the single word was explanation enough.