His for a year. - Chapter 35: Chapter 35

My head was a little heavy when I woke up, probably from crying myself to sleep again. I sat up slowly, pressing a hand to my temple.
Everything that happened yesterday played in sections.The confrontation. The kiss. The silence that followed.
I shook it off.
I needed something sharp, something cold. Lime water.
I slid my feet into my slippers and moved toward the door, grabbing a scarf to wrap around myself. As soon as I stepped into the hallway, Ray appeared.
He was always close.
“Heading somewhere?” he asked casually, but there was something in his eyes—guarded, heavy, watching.
“Just to the kitchen. Wanted lime water,” I said, trying not to sound like I’ve been crawling through an emotional warzone all night.
“I’ll get it,” he said quickly. “You… stay in.”
I blinked at him. “It’s not a big deal. I can—”
“I insist.”
He had already turned. No room for argument. But before he walked away, his gaze lingered. Something flickered in it—something I don’t have the energy to decipher right now.
I nodded. “Alright.”
I got back in, sat at the edge of the bed, and ran my fingers over the sheets absent mindedly.
A knock came three minutes later.
Ray stepped in with the glass, the door clicking shut behind him.
He handed me the drink without a word at first. I thanked him quietly, took a sip and focused too much on the citrus sting on my tongue.
Then he spoke.
“I saw what happened last night.”
I paused, mid-sip.
His voice was low, careful even. But it carried weight.
“Everything?”
He nodded. “I was standing a bit behind. I saw the files. The way he looked at you. The part where you stormed off... and the part where he kissed you.”
I exhaled slowly, unsure of what to say. The air grew heavier.
“You don’t need to explain anything to me,” Ray said, stepping back a little, his posture respectful but tense. “But... Olive, don’t confuse what you feel in a moment like that with what’s actually true.”
I glanced at him. His eyes were sharp now, darker. More honest than usual.
He continued. “He kissed you. And maybe you felt something. But that doesn’t mean he’s the one who deserves your emotions. Or your vulnerability.”
There was no venom in his voice. Just an edge of maybe jealousy? Buried under protective concern.
“I’m not saying he’s all bad,” he added, after a beat. “But he’s not all good either. And you—you’ve already bled enough.”
I couldn’t find words. I looked down at the glass, watching the pulp swirl in the water.
He breathed in through his nose like he was trying to push something down. “Anyway. I shouldn’t be saying this.”
“No,” I said quietly. “It’s okay.”
He gave a light nod, and stepped back toward the door. His hand rests on the handle, but he doesn’t turn it yet.
“I meant to ask,” he said, softer now. “Are you doing alright? After everything? With... the dinner, your name, your friend…?”
I managed a weak smile. “I don’t know. I think I’m still trying to catch up.”
He gave a small, unreadable nod. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be close.”
Then he slipped out.
The room felt quieter once he was gone.
Too quiet.
And I realised something as I sat there, lime water in hand, emotions still knotted from last night: I’m caught between two men who see me—but not the same way.
And I don’t know which version of me is real anymore.
_ _ _
It’d been a week since the dinner… since the kiss. Since Zade’s eyes locked on mine like I was his to protect. To keep.
And then, like nothing happened, he disappeared.
Or maybe I disappeared first. I had intentionally avoided him, dodging every shared hallway, every glance from Leo, every footstep that echoed too close. I took most of my meals in my room. I had turned to my online classes like they were the only lifeline left—writing discussion posts with more emotion than they required, attending virtual lectures like I wasn’t sitting in a billionaire’s mansion pretending I still belonged.
Surprisingly, no one had come at me. Not Zara with her sarcasm. Not Eloise with her veiled threats. Not Anna with her venom. Maybe Zade’s warning worked. But the silence was worse.
It was peaceful now. Frighteningly so.
Like the calm before a storm appears.
I sat on the edge of my bed, flipping mindlessly through a textbook on Media Law, when the door crashed open.
Zade.
His tie loosened, eyes frantic. He looked... stormy.
“Olive,” he said, voice low but sharp. “It’s your mom.”
My chest went still.
“What—what happened?”
“Her condition just worsened. I got a call from the doctor. They were trying to reach you, but your line was busy.” His jaw ticked. “I’m driving you there. Now.”
I stood up immediately, my hands shaking as I dropped the book to the floor. “Give me two minutes.”
He watched me for a second too long before he shut the door behind him.
I moved fast, dragging a hoodie over my head and grabbing my purse. My heart is pounding—not because of him, not because of the kiss or the tension or the confusing way my body remembers his touch.
But because of her.
Because my mother, the one I’ve always loved with the kind of love that hurts… might be slipping away from me.
I was terrified of losing my mother.
I didn't wait for Zade to park fully before I yanked the door open and took off. My legs sprinted on autopilot, my mind raced faster than my body as I bolted through the sliding doors and up the all-too-familiar corridors.
“Mum. Where is she?” I bark at the nurse at the reception desk, my voice shaking.
The woman flinched, then scans a sheet quickly. “Room 308. Neurology wing.”
Neurology.
My breath thins. No. No, no, no.
I pushed past bodies and machines and whispers and wheelchairs. The hallway felt longer than usual. Colder. I got to Room 308 and froze just outside. Two nurses were adjusting her IV line. A new monitor beeped near her head. She was still.
Too still.
“Miss Trevor?” A voice beside me.
I turned quickly.
The doctor.
A tall man with tired eyes and a clipboard in hand. He doesn’t need to say much before I already know it’s bad.
“There’s something we missed,” he said gently, like he had rehearsed this. “Your mother has a brain tumor. It was small, buried deep. Hard to detect without an MRI, and her vitals had stabilized, so we didn’t see a need until now.”
I shook my head. “What does that mean? What does that mean, exactly?”
“We’re going to try everything we can,” he said, the same way you tell a child you’ll try to fix their broken toy. “Surgery is risky. But not impossible.”
“Will she survive?”
He looked away. That says enough.
“I’m sorry, but we'll try our best.”
That’s all it took. I backed away slowly, muttering something I don’t even hear myself say, and walked blindly down the hallway. One foot in front of the other.
I found the women’s bathroom and slipped inside.
I stared at the mirror. My breathe uneven and heavy. What does this mean? What will become of the contract if she doesn't make it? What use will my sacrifice be? What will become of Aliyah? Or me?
I don’t know how long I stared, asking myself endless and unanswerable questions. Minutes? Hours?
Eventually, my breathing slowed. I rinsed my face in cold water until the mirror didn't look like a stranger anymore. Until I remembered there was someone waiting.
When I stepped outside into the fading sunlight, the first thing I saw was the black car parked by the curb.
Zade was still there.
He leaned against the car, his eyes searching, then they finally found mine.—and he didn't smile. He didn’t ask questions.
He just opened the passenger door, shut it after I'd gotten in and turned on the engine.
The car ride is quiet. And I liked it. I didn't have the strength to say anything or contain anymore emotions.
Zade didn’t turn on the radio.
He just drove.
One hand loosed on the wheel, the other drumming lightly against his thigh like he was arguing with himself. I stared out the window, counting streetlights, forcing my breaths to stay steady. My fingers dug into the hem of my sweater.
We were halfway home, when the glow of the city gave way to the iron gates of the Avner estate.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally, voice low. “About your mother. I’ll make sure she gets the best doctors we have.”
I didn’t answer. Not because I was ungrateful, but because I didn't have the strength to reply. Not after everything. Not with my mind still in that sterile room, with her face so pale it haunted me.
The rest of the drive was longer than I wanted it to be.
We pulled into the driveway. The house loomed ahead of us like a polished cage. I reached for the door handle, ready to bolt inside and disappear, when his hand shot out.
He grabbed mine gently—but firmly.
“Olive.”
I paused.
His fingers were warm around mine, but his eyes were something else entirely. Confused. Demanding. Maybe even… hurt?
“Why have you been avoiding me?” he asked.
I hesitated. “I haven’t.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I’m tired,” I said, trying to tug my hand away. “I just want to go in and rest.”
He didn't let go immediately.
He didn’t say sorry. He didn’t acknowledge the kiss. He didn’t ask how I had been.
His eyes flickered around my face, “Just be at dinner.”
I looked at him, my brows furrowing. “I don’t feel like—”
“It wasn’t a suggestion.” His voice hardened. “You signed a contract. Show up.”
Then he let go, let the door swing open, and shift into gear without another word.
I climbed out, stunned and speechless, as the car pulled away—leaving behind a swirl of dust, unanswered questions, and a silence I could no longer tell if it was his punishment or mine.
I didn’t try to dress up.
Not for him.
Not tonight.
I pulled on a plain black top and a pair of baggy jeans—the kind I used to wear to my Media Law lectures. My hair was in a simple bun, no makeup. If he wanted to enforce a contract over dinner, then this is what he’s getting—contractual compliance, nothing more.
I walked down to the dining room, the one with the high arched ceiling and that too-perfect chandelier that always looked like it cost more than my mother’s hospital bills combined.
I sat. Waiting.
For thirty minutes, I stared at the untouched food. For thirty minutes, I listened to the grandfather clock in the hallway ticking like it had something to prove.
Still, no Zade.
He was the one who insisted.
He was the one who brought up the contract.
He was the one who—
An hour.
It had been an hour.
I pushed back my chair, my chest already tightening with irritation and anger as I stood. I was halfway to the staircase when I heard the unmistakable sound of tires crunching against the driveway gravel.
His car.
I paused at the open archway.
Zade stumbled out of the owner’s side, laughing too hard. Leo came out from the other side, his shirt halfway unbuttoned and his jacket missing. The driver tried to hold them both but he was failing miserably.
“Is that... the fountain?” Leo slurred, pointing at nothing.
“No, man, that’s... the moon,” Zade mumbled.
“What moon?” Leo squinted. “We have a fountain?”
They both burst into laughter.
I blinked in disbelief.
Drunk. Both of them.
Zade was worse than Leo. His cheeks were flushed, hot pink.
I grabbed my phone quickly and called Ray. “Meet me at the front. Now. Bring backup.”
He didn’t ask questions—just answered, “On my way.”
Within seconds, Ray and two male housekeepers appeared, one of them still tying the sash of his robe. I didn’t care. I needed help dragging two grown men who thought the estate driveway was a comedy club.
“Sir,” Ray said, gently trying to guide Zade up the steps.
“I’m not your sir, I’m a legend,” Zade announced, pointing to the sky. “Someone tell that to the stars. They forgot me!”
Ray glanced at me. “We’ll take it from here.”
“Careful with his head,” I said. “He still needs it to sign contracts.”
Mine especially.
Leo, on the other hand, was trying to introduce himself to the doorknob.
“I’m Leo... and you are?”
“Leo,” Ray sighed. “That’s a door.”
“I knew she looked familiar.”
I pressed my lips together and turned back inside. I watched Ray struggle with them up the stairs, then sat when they were out of my sight.
Dinner was cold. But I ate it. Alone.
The silence was oddly comforting—no snide remarks from Zara, no sharp glares from Eloise, no presence of him.
I finished every bite, placed my dishes back on the tray, and took them to the kitchen myself.
Then I went to my room, pulled the covers over my body, and lay there staring at the ceiling.
So this was marriage—where you get dressed to prove a point, only for your husband to show up an hour late, drunk, laughing with the only friend who knew just how messy both your lives really were.
And still, somehow… the silence was better than anything he might’ve said.
The sun barely peeked through the heavy drapes in my room, but I was already awake. I’d showered, changed into a simple robe, and made myself some tea. For some strange reason—one I couldn’t explain or excuse—I had the oddest urge to check on Leo and Zade.
I blamed it on curiosity. Not concern. Definitely not concern.
I started with Leo’s room. Knocked twice.
No response.
I pushed the door open slightly and peeked in. The bed was untouched.
Suspicious.