Where Blood Burns

Chapter five

The morning after the wedding, the villa carried the exhaustion of celebration. Empty glasses cluttered the courtyard, flower petals clung to the tiles, and voices were softer than usual, wrapped in the haze of wine and dancing.

Khalid rose early, seeking solitude. He found it in the orchard, where the orange trees swayed lightly in the dawn breeze. The air was cooler here, the silence broken only by birds stirring in the branches.

But solitude never lasted long in this house.

“You didn’t dance enough last night.”

Zariah’s voice came from behind him. She padded barefoot across the stone path, hair loose around her shoulders, a faint trace of kohl still smudged beneath her eyes.

“You made up for both of us,” he said, keeping his gaze on the trees.

“You almost kissed me.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, not accusing, not shy. Simply true.

Khalid turned to her then, his pulse kicking hard. “Almost doesn’t count.”

Her smile curved like a blade. “It does when you’re afraid of the real thing.”

He opened his mouth to answer, but the sound of footsteps cut through the orchard. Zariah stepped back, her expression shifting in an instant to something lighter, less dangerous. By the time the figure emerged from the path, she looked like nothing more than a cousin sharing idle chatter.

It was his aunt—the bride’s mother. Sharp-eyed, graceful, the kind of woman who saw too much. She greeted Khalid warmly, but her gaze lingered just a fraction too long on the space between him and Zariah.

“You two are early risers,” she said.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Zariah replied smoothly, slipping her hands behind her back.

Her aunt’s eyes flicked between them once more, and though her smile remained, there was a weight to it now. “Mmm. Well, Khalid, come inside when you’re ready. Your uncle wants to speak with you about the family business in Istanbul.”

When she left, the orchard felt smaller, the shadows heavier.

“She saw something,” Khalid said quietly.

“She saw nothing,” Zariah countered, but her voice lacked conviction.

“She’s suspicious.”

“Let her be.” Zariah shrugged, too casually. “Suspicion is not proof.”

“Zariah—”

She stepped closer, close enough that the scent of orange blossoms clung to her skin. “Are you going to let a look from an aunt scare you away?”

He held her gaze, struggling against the pull of her nearness. “You don’t understand. In this family, suspicion is enough.”

For a moment, silence stretched between them, taut as a wire. Then she smiled again, sharp and wicked.

“Then we’ll just have to be more careful.”

⸻

That evening, the tension thickened. At dinner, Khalid felt the weight of eyes on him. His uncle’s questions about work were pointed, his aunt’s laughter slightly too sharp, as if masking something else. And across the table, Zariah was uncharacteristically quiet, sipping her wine slowly, her gaze flicking to him only in stolen seconds.

Later, when the family dispersed into smaller clusters of conversation, Khalid found himself cornered by another cousin, a young man whose grin carried a hint of mockery.

“So,” the cousin said, swirling his drink, “is it true what they’re saying?”

Khalid’s chest tightened. “What are they saying?”

“That you and Zariah seem… close.” The cousin smirked. “Too close, maybe. Not that anyone would be surprised.”

Khalid forced a laugh, cool and dismissive. “Family gossip never changes, does it?”

But inside, his blood roared. The fire they had been stoking in secret was no longer invisible. The smoke had begun to rise.

⸻

Later that night, he found Zariah in the library again, a book open but unread in her lap. She looked up when he entered, and though she smiled, there was something sharper behind it.

“They’re starting to notice,” he said.

“Let them.”

“Zariah—”

She closed the book softly, her eyes gleaming with defiance. “We can’t smother a fire forever, Khalid. It either burns or it dies.”

He stared at her, torn between desire and dread. And for the first time, he wondered if she wanted to be caught.

⸻

The slow burn was no longer just between them.

Now, the family had begun to feel the heat.