Broken by him, bound to him

Chapter 10 :The storm that lingers

Naya arrived at the Nadeem villa late in the afternoon, the sky still heavy with the remnants of rain. Ryan was waiting for her, his usual easy smile warming his face as he led her toward the small wooden shelter he and Anora had prepared near the rose garden.

The storm had passed, but its memory lingered in the air. Raindrops clung to every petal and leaf, making the roses shimmer in shades of crimson, blush, and ivory. Their fragrance, heady and intoxicating, mixed with the scent of wet earth and fresh grass. It was the kind of beauty that felt fragile, fleeting—like the pause between heartbeats.

Beneath the rustic shelter, the scene had been carefully arranged. A soft checkered blanket covered the wooden floor, its warm tones contrasting against the damp boards. Plush pillows in cream and deep burgundy lay scattered for comfort. A wicker basket sat open, revealing fresh strawberries, a loaf of bread with a golden crust, wedges of cheese, and a bottle of red wine with two waiting glasses. Lanterns hung from the beams overhead, casting a golden glow that softened the edges of the cool, damp afternoon. It was the kind of place meant for secrets, for confessions, for love.

Ryan gently guided Naya to sit. His hand was warm around hers, steady and certain. But her heart resisted, thrumming with a dread she could not easily name. What was she doing here? Was it fair to let him try so hard for her, when her heart stubbornly belonged elsewhere? Cain had been right—Ryan was not him.

Ryan’s voice, tender and hopeful, filled the shelter. He asked about her life, her past, his eyes bright with interest. But Naya kept her answers vague, avoiding anything that might reveal the truth—Cain. He lived at the center of her memories, and she was determined that no one should ever know. Not Ryan. Not anyone.

Far from the villa, in one of the city’s dimly lit clubs, Cain sat perched on a high stool. His presence drew attention without effort—dark, sharp, and commanding. Beside him sat Abel, tall and slender, his short hair giving him a calm, collected look. His kind green eyes softened his presence, a contrast to Cain’s storm. They had gone to high school together, and Abel returned each year before Latif’s death anniversary. He never allowed Cain to face that day alone, because he knew the weight Cain carried, the blame the world had draped over his shoulders. Abel refused to let him carry it without a friend at his side.

“So, what’s new with you, bro?” Abel asked, sipping his drink and watching Cain with a perceptive gaze. He could see Cain was unsettled, but he would never push—Cain had to choose to speak.

“Nothing much. Just work, annoying family members, and the usual,” Cain answered dismissively, his tone clipped.

“Ryan still blames you for Latif’s death?” Abel asked, already knowing the truth.

Cain’s jaw tightened. “He’s going after my girl, and it makes me want to send him after Latif. It’s driving me insane.” He dropped his glass onto the marble counter with a clatter, though miraculously it didn’t break.

Abel’s eyes narrowed. “First of all, don’t ever say that near them—you cold, cold son of a… Anyway, it’s too soon. Latif was a brother. I know you didn’t intend for what happened, and I know you suck at showing grief or remorse, but tomorrow—I’m gonna need you to try.”

Cain’s lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. “What girl, though? Last I checked, you were single,” Abel added, studying him.

“Naya.”

Abel nearly choked on his drink. Of course he remembered her—Cain had told him everything, even when they were continents apart.

“Naya Adam?” Abel asked, disbelief and surprise etched across his face. “I thought you couldn’t find her.”

“I didn’t. She found me. Turns out, all that time we were searching everywhere else, she was right under our noses. She worked for the company in Cairo, then moved to Dubai.” Cain’s voice softened, almost wistful. “Something about her finding me—it feels right.”

“So she’s here. How are you two? Is there hope?” Abel teased, though his tone carried genuine curiosity. He knew Ryan’s pursuit of Naya meant things were far from settled.

“There’s hope,” Cain admitted quietly. “She still loves me, but she insists on leaving us in the past. She says she has to move on. Our baby died, Abel. And I think she ties me to that pain. She’s afraid that letting me close again will open every wound she’s tried so hard to heal.”

Abel studied him with concern. He saw the struggle in Cain’s eyes, the way he ached to hold onto Naya but refused to force her. “So she’s fighting you.”

“Yeah. And there’s nothing I can do until she chooses me again.”

“Do you think she’ll let Ryan in?”

Cain smirked, bitter but certain. “I doubt it. Naya’s real to the core, and she’s a terrible liar. Even if she wanted to string Ryan along, she couldn’t. Sooner or later, she’ll tell him the truth—that she doesn’t want him. And despite everything, I almost pity him.”

“He did always have a soft heart,” Abel said with a small smile.

“Does she know? About Latif? About… everything?” Abel’s voice grew serious.

“No. She doesn’t know that side of me.” Cain’s words were heavy, his eyes lowering to his drink.

“You know she’ll find out,” Abel warned.

Cain exhaled sharply. “I know I don’t deserve her. Never did. If I weren’t so selfish, controlling, territorial, maybe I would’ve let her go.”

Abel laughed lightly. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“No. I wouldn’t. Naya is mine—in this world and the next.” His eyes glinted with menace. “Now let’s go. Ryan’s pathetic excuse for a date is happening right now, and I’d hate for them to get too comfortable. I’ll be doing them both a favor.”

“You’re heartless,” Abel muttered as they stepped outside.

“And somehow she’s even more drawn to that side of me,” Cain said with a dark laugh.

“That’s because she’s got issues too,” Abel shot back with a smirk.

“She’s perfect, you idiot.” Cain punched him lightly in the side, making Abel yelp.

“See you tomorrow. Say hello to the family for me,” Abel called as he climbed into his car.

Cain only smirked as he slid into his own vehicle and drove into the night.

Back at the villa, Naya sat with Ryan, listening as he talked about himself. She nodded, smiled where expected, but she gave little of herself away. Every time the wind shifted, carrying the cool scent of wet roses, her thoughts betrayed her—returning to that night in the rose garden. The way Cain had kissed her, the way she had melted, lips parting against his with reckless surrender. Just the memory was enough to make her shiver, her body betraying her resolve.

Ryan noticed. He reached for her hand, concern in his eyes. “You’re cold. Let me get you a shawl.” He rose before she could protest, his determination written in the set of his shoulders.

Alone, Naya rose from the blanket and drifted toward the roses. Her fingers brushed over the wet petals, tracing them gently.

“Careful. They have thorns.”

She startled, spinning around. Cain stood exactly where he had been that night, his dark figure framed against the roses, raindrops glistening in his hair.

“Cain—what are you doing here?” she whispered, walking toward him with urgency. Panic fluttered in her chest. Ryan would be back any second.

“You’re freezing,” he said softly, his eyes raking over her.

“It doesn’t matter. You need to leave. Ryan will be back, and he can’t find you here.” She pushed at his chest, glancing toward the shelter’s entrance.

“I don’t care.” Cain shrugged out of his black leather jacket, holding it out. “Here. Take this.”

“Cain…” Her voice cracked, almost a plea.

“Yes, baby?” His eyes softened as he stepped closer. The rain had begun again, a fine mist that clung to their skin.

“He went to get me a shawl. Do you think he’ll be happy if he finds me wearing your jacket?” Her words came out half-whisper, half-laugh, trembling on the edge of defiance.

“What makes you think I care what Ryan feels?” Cain leaned closer, his scent wrapping around her—the same cologne he had worn back in school, stirring a wave of nostalgia that nearly unraveled her. He draped the jacket over her shoulders before pulling her into his arms.

For a moment, Naya let herself breathe him in, her cheek against his chest, his arms strong and possessive around her. The warmth of him cut through the chill, and for one dangerous heartbeat, she almost surrendered completely. His embrace felt like home—dangerous, forbidden, but undeniable.

Then she forced herself to step back. “You need to leave. Please.”

Cain pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead before releasing her. Without another word, he slipped into the shadows, taking a different path back toward the house.

Moments later, Ryan returned, holding a shawl. His smile faltered when he saw Cain’s jacket wrapped around her. Fury burned in his chest, but he swallowed it down. He simply handed her the shawl, his voice calm, too calm.

Naya apologized, guilt flickering in her eyes, but Ryan brushed it off. “My issues with Cain are bigger than this. None of this is your fault.” Still, his heart clenched. He had planned to ask her to be his girlfriend tonight. Instead, the moment had been stolen.

Later, when he dropped her off, the bitterness settled deeper. He returned to the villa, anger simmering as he walked into the living room. Cain sat there casually, reading a business paper as though nothing in the world could touch him.

Aydin, lounging nearby, raised an eyebrow. He knew his brother too well—Cain was waiting, baiting. Aydin leaned forward, eager to see what would happen next.

Cain didn’t look up, but his lips curved into the faintest smirk. He was waiting for Ryan to snap. He was counting on it.

And God help them both—he prayed Ryan would throw the first punch.