Broken by him, bound to him

Chapter 9: when she Sayed she loved him

Saturday came, and Naya woke earlier than usual, breaking her lazy weekend routine. By midmorning, her chores were already finished, her apartment swept and humming with quiet order. She sat on her balcony with a chilled drink at her side, a book open across her lap, sunlight streaming over her bare legs. The day felt too peaceful, almost deceptively so. That was when her phone rang.

She set the book aside and went inside, picking up the phone from the kitchen counter.

“Hello,” she answered cheerfully.

“Hi,” Ryan’s voice came on the other end, light with humor. “Still up for this afternoon, or did Cain drag you into work?”

Naya laughed softly, shaking her head. “No, nothing like that. I’m looking forward to it.” she said brightly.

That afternoon, she dressed carefully, choosing a look that struck the balance between daring and elegant. She wore a sheer black chiffon blouse tucked neatly into black leather shorts that cut off just beneath her thighs. A dark burgundy lipstick sharpened her mouth into something bold and dangerous. Around her wrist clinked the bohemian bracelets Cain had given her, and around her neck she clasped a black-and-burgundy lace-trimmed necklace, delicate but striking. Her boots were ankle-high, polished to a subtle shine, and she swept her hair into a messy bun, perching her sunglasses casually on top.

On her way out, she stopped by Wendy’s apartment. Wendy, ever the blunt friend, eyed her knowingly.

“Are you sure going out with Ryan is the right thing?” she asked. “Considering… Cain?”

Naya forced a smile, but her voice was firm. “It’s the best way to get over him."

But even as she said it, a flicker of doubt lingered.

At the Nadeem villa, Ryan was busy in the garden, arranging a picnic beneath the trellises heavy with roses. He had told Anora earlier that he was bringing over a “special guest.” With a knowing grin, he had admitted it was a girl.

Cain’s mother had been delighted. She had helped prepare the basket, filling it with fruit, pastries, and delicate homemade treats. Ryan had added fine chocolates, imported desserts, and an aged bottle of wine. Tucked into his pocket was a slim red necklace—his way of making the day official. He planned to confess his feelings to Naya and seal the start of something more. Tonight, he wanted his family to see him as more than Cain’s shadow.

Ryan hadn’t always been part of the Nadeem family, but after his father—Cain’s uncle—died, and his mother soon followed, grief breaking her, the Nadeems had taken him in. He had been only five. From then on, Ryan was raised as their own son. Sometimes, he felt closer to them than Cain himself ever did.

As he and Anora arranged flowers in the living room, Cain appeared.

No one had expected him; Cain rarely came home. He preferred silence, solitude, drifting into the villa only when it suited him—like today.

“I intend to make things official,” Ryan was saying to Anora, his smile bright but edged with nerves.

Anora’s gaze softened. She loved him like her own, but her maternal instincts warned her that Ryan was walking straight into heartbreak.

“Are you sure?” she asked quietly.

“Yes. Are you sure?” Cain echoed smoothly, emerging from his room with a small duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

He never fully cleared his things when he moved out, preferring to return from time to time to collect pieces he left behind.

Anora rose quickly and embraced him. Ryan stiffened, his jaw tight, his eyes cold. Cain only smiled—sharp, mocking.

“So good of you to join us, my son,” Anora said warmly, cupping his face before kissing his cheek. “What have you been up to? You barely swing by.”

“Nothing much, Mum. Just work.”

“Your brother here is bringing over a special someone today,” Anora added with excitement. Then, with a hopeful glance at Cain, “Honey, I can’t wait to meet your own special someone too.”

Cain smiled, but said nothing.

From the far corner of the living room, Aydin stirred. He had been lounging on the stairs, silent, almost blending with the shadows.

“Cain already has someone new in his life,” Aydin said suddenly, smirking as every eye turned toward him.

“What girl, my son?” Anora asked, though tension already thickened the room.

“Naya,” Aydin announced, his tone deliberately provocative. “She’s a beauty, Mum. Honestly, if Cain wouldn’t kill me, I might have made a move myself.”

Ryan’s fists curled at his sides, fury flashing across his face.

“Speaking of Naya,” he said through clenched teeth, “why did you make her your assistant, Cain? That’s not the position she applied for.”

Cain’s smirk deepened as he moved toward the door. “Why do I do anything, Ryan?”

Halfway out, he paused and turned back. His tone was calm, almost careless. “She doesn’t like too much sugar—it upsets her stomach. She prefers her desserts with just a hint of salt.”

Ryan stiffened, his anger sharpening. “And how the hell would you know that?”

Cain’s eyes lingered on him, dark and unreadable. “How do I know anything?” he murmured before disappearing through the door.

Later that afternoon, as he drove to meet his old friend Abel—back in town after months away—his thoughts wandered, pulled into memory. The rain had begun again, slicking the city streets, and it reminded him of another storm. Another night. The first time Naya told him she loved him.

The rain had always followed him. It clung to Cain’s memories like a haunting melody, the steady rhythm beating into the corners of his mind no matter how much he tried to escape it. That night was no different. Outside, thunder rolled across the sky, and sheets of water battered against the glass panes of his apartment window. He leaned his forehead against the cool surface, watching the trails of water slide down, each one reminding him of a time when everything had felt simpler—and far more dangerous.

Because when it rained, he always thought of her.

Naya.

It had been raining that night too—back in college. A night stitched so deeply into him that no amount of time could loosen its hold.

The air that evening had smelled of damp grass and wet asphalt drifting in through the open window. His work desk was cluttered with half-finished notes and open books, the light of a single candle flickering at the center. But none of that mattered, because on his wide bed lay the girl who would undo him.

Naya.

She was stretched out on his sheets, wearing nothing but his shirt, the hem sliding scandalously high on her thighs. Her long, bare legs glowed in the dim light, smooth and soft, tempting him with every shift she made against the mattress. The collar of the shirt had fallen wide, revealing the slope of her shoulder, the delicate line of her collarbone, and just enough cleavage to steal the breath from his lungs.

Her hair spilled over his pillow, dark waves tangled from the rain they’d run through earlier. Her lips—plump, parted, kissed by candlelight—curved into a smile that was both innocent and wicked.

“Cain,” she whispered, her voice low and teasing, carrying that effortless confidence she wore like a crown.

He remembered how his body had stilled at the sound of her voice. How his heart had hammered against his ribs as though trying to break free. He’d wanted her for months—achingly, desperately—but he had never crossed that invisible line between them. She was temptation wrapped in laughter and mischief, and he had sworn he wouldn’t take what she didn’t freely give.

But that night… she gave everything.

Her whisper had shattered his restraint. He had crawled onto the bed, bracing his arms on either side of her, caging her in. Her laughter—soft, breathless—spilled out until his mouth claimed hers.

The kiss ignited like fire. Her lips, warm and eager, parted beneath his, and when his tongue swept against hers, she moaned. A sound so delicate, yet so powerful it tore straight through him, unraveling every last thread of control. He pressed his body to hers, sinking into her curves, every tremor of her body calling him deeper.

His hands slid beneath the hem of the shirt, fingers grazing bare skin hot to the touch. Her stomach quivered as he traced upward, palms molding over the swell of her breasts. She gasped into his mouth, arching into him, nails digging into his shoulders as if she feared he might pull away.

“Cain…” The sound of his name breaking from her lips was almost his undoing. He dragged his mouth down her neck, tasting her pulse, brushing his tongue across the hollow of her throat. The candlelight made her skin gleam like velvet, each shiver a plea he couldn’t ignore.

He’d tried to hold back, even then. His voice had been hoarse when he murmured against her skin, “Tell me to stop, Naya. Just one word, and I will.”

But instead, her hands framed his face, pulling him back up, her lips crushing against his with a hunger that matched his own.

And then, in the spaces between breaths, she said it.

“I love you, Cain.”

The world had stilled.

He remembered the way her eyes looked—wide, luminous, vulnerable and fierce all at once. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, her breath ragged, her heart racing beneath his palms. She was giving him more than her body in that moment; she was handing him her soul.

Something inside him had broken loose. He had pressed his forehead to hers, voice raw as he whispered back, “I love you too. More than you could ever know.”

And with those words, restraint no longer mattered. He kissed her again, deep and consuming, his hands mapping every curve, every trembling inch of her body. She welcomed him without hesitation, her legs curling around his waist, her warmth drawing him closer until there was no space left between them.

The rain outside had become their rhythm, steady, relentless, echoing the pounding of their hearts. Candles burned low, shadows dancing against the walls as they gave themselves to each other for the first time. Every touch was reverent, every gasp a vow unspoken, every moan a surrender neither of them could take back.

It had been more than passion, more than desire. It was discovery. The shocking, beautiful realization that he could lose himself entirely in her and still feel more whole than he ever had before.

That was the night she became his. And the night he gave himself, completely, to her.

Cain closed his eyes now, years later, as the memory consumed him. He could still taste her lips, feel the heat of her skin, hear the fragile certainty in her voice when she’d whispered those three words.

And now, knowing she was with Ryan, that memory burned like a blade.

Cain’s chest ached with something between longing and fury. He could still hear her laugh, still see her sprawled across his bed, still remember the way her body had fit so perfectly against his. That memory should have been a comfort. Instead, it was torture.

Because it wasn’t just a memory. It was the truth of who they had been—and who they still were, no matter how much time had passed.

Ryan did not stand a chance.