Jealous Heart
515 Words
Chapter 9: Jealous Hearts
The afternoon air was thick with humidity when Leila walked into the garden behind the mansion. She needed space — space from the staff, the headlines, the eyes constantly watching.
And from Damian.
Her heart still hadn’t figured out how to slow down around him.
She ran her fingers along the rose bushes — the soft petals reminding her of her shop, her old life, a time when love was something distant and uncomplicated.
Then she heard laughter. A woman’s.
Leila turned.
Damian stood near the patio with a tall, stunning woman in designer sunglasses and red heels sharp enough to slice glass. The woman’s arms were crossed, her expression amused as she leaned into Damian like they shared a secret.
Jealousy was an ugly emotion.
And it hit Leila in the chest before she could even stop it.
The woman looked familiar — and when Damian turned and spotted Leila, his expression shifted instantly. He walked toward her.
“Leila,” he said. “This is Chioma. We dated. Years ago.”
Of course. She looked like every magazine cover Damian had ever been linked to.
Chioma smiled. “So, you’re the new fiancée?”
Leila smiled back, polite but cool. “That’s me.”
“Funny,” Chioma said, sipping her drink. “He never mentioned you. Not once in the last few years.”
“That’s because he wasn’t ready for someone real,” Leila replied smoothly. “He is now.”
The words tasted like sugar and steel.
Chioma raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that.
Damian cleared his throat. “Chioma was just leaving.”
She chuckled. “Was I? That’s news to me.”
But she did turn and walk away, her heels clicking against the stone like a challenge.
Later that night, Leila stormed into the lounge, where Damian was reviewing documents.
“What was she doing here?” she asked.
Damian looked up. “She just showed up. I didn’t invite her.”
“You didn’t stop her either.”
“She’s from my past, Leila. You’re the one here now.”
“That didn’t stop her from touching your arm like she still owned it.”
Damian stood, his eyes flashing with something sharp.
“Are you jealous?”
Leila hesitated. “Of course not. This is all fake, remember?”
His voice lowered. “Then why do you care?”
She hated how hot her cheeks felt. “Because it makes me look like a joke when your ex waltzes in and acts like she still belongs here.”
He stepped closer. “No one belongs here but you.”
She blinked. “Why are you saying that?”
Damian’s voice softened. “Because I need you to believe it.”
And for a terrifying second, she almost did.
That night, alone in her room, Leila stared at the ceiling.
Her heart beat unevenly. Her thoughts wouldn’t quiet down.
She hated that she cared.
Hated that her fake fiancé was starting to feel like the only real thing in her life.
- Writer
