IRIS: Fallen for him

CHAPTER EIGHT

Iris didn’t go home.

Instead, she found herself walking to Karen and Samantha’s apartment, the weight of the day pressing hard on her shoulders.

When she arrived, both women were already home—their work shifts wouldn’t start until the evening. As soon as the door opened, they noticed her drained expression.

“Hey, Iris…” Sam’s voice softened, but her eyes widened in concern.

Without a word, Iris stepped inside. Her eyes were swollen from holding back tears, her hand trembling as she gently removed her shirt. The angry burn along her left arm was revealed.

Karen and Sam gasped.

“My God, where are you coming from?” Karen hurried to grab the first aid kit while Sam fetched a glass of water.

Iris spoke slowly, explaining the events of her day. By the time she finished, both friends sat in stunned silence.

“What about Aziel? Does he know about this?” Sam finally asked.

Iris gave a faint, almost bitter smile.

“He doesn’t even care about Imani… and you think he’d notice me?”

Karen’s protective side kicked in immediately.

“What kind of husband is he? Does he think just because he has money, he can do whatever he wants?”

“Karen, calm down,” Sam murmured, though her own expression was tight.

“What about Imani?” Sam asked again, her tone softer.

This time, Iris couldn’t hold her tears.

“Imani… she’s strong. I don’t know how, but that girl—she’s stronger than me. I just have to keep being strong for her.”

The two friends reached for her hands, squeezing them in silent comfort.

“I’ll make you something to eat,” Sam said quickly, heading for the kitchen. Soon, the scent of creamy pasta filled the air.

While Iris was eating, Sam rummaged through her bag to tidy it up and froze when she saw a sleek personal card. Her eyes went wide, and she practically jumped from her chair to show Karen.

“Karen—look at this!”

The two women exchanged an excited look before turning to Iris.

“How on earth did you get Elora Westmont’s personal card?” Karen asked.

Iris glanced at them, unbothered.

“I met her at the gathering. She helped me with my bandage, that’s all.”

“That’s all?” Sam repeated, almost disbelieving.

“Yes,” Iris said simply, continuing to eat. “She just told me, ‘Call me.’”

Sam and Karen both shot to their feet, grinning at each other like they’d won a lottery. Iris blinked at them, still lost.

“Don’t you know who Elora Westmont is?” Karen exclaimed. “She’s helped countless women with potential build their own futures.”

Iris only took another bite, washed it down with her painkillers, and lay down on their couch. Within minutes, she was asleep, paying no attention to their excitement.

Marlida had dropped Flora at her hotel and headed back home.

Surprisingly, Aziel was already there—seated in the living room with his grandfather. Their conversation ran deep, neither of them noticing that Iris still wasn’t home.

The old man sat upright, his hand gripping his cane, eyes fixed intensely on Aziel.

“All my life, I thought I knew you well enough,” he began slowly, voice heavy with disappointment. “But these past six years have shown me I never really knew you at all. I only saw the side of you that you wanted me to see.”

Aziel frowned in confusion. “What? Grandpa, why would you say that?”

The old man leaned forward, his gaze sharper.

“When you were little, the house wasn’t perfect. The constant yelling between your parents… and Nilkil’s death—I know how much those things scarred you. But even then, you had a beautiful childhood compared to most.”

Aziel’s head lowered, shame creeping in.

“I never chose your mother for your father,” the old man continued, “and see where that decision led him. I thought you would be wiser. But you’ve made a mistake—a mistake you can still correct. Iris… I saw the kind of woman she is the first time I met her. But your eyes are closed, just like your father’s were.”

He paused, letting the words sink in.

“Do you want to know what your daughter told me?”

Aziel slowly looked up.

“She told me you’re like a celebrity—someone she only sees from afar, never close. You’ve given her everything… except yourself.”

Before Aziel could respond, the sound of a small, desperate voice cut through the air.

“Mummy! Mummy, where are you? Mummy, I want to sleep with you!”

It was Imani, crying as she wandered the hallway. Iris still wasn’t home.

Without hesitation, Aziel rose from his seat. For the first time, he scooped Imani into his arms. She quieted instantly, her tiny body relaxing against his chest. Within moments, she was fast asleep, her face buried in his shoulder.

Aziel sat back down, still holding her, tears welling in his eyes.

His grandfather’s voice softened. “How does it feel… carrying her?”

Aziel was speechless. Because in that moment—truly for the first time—he felt what it meant to be a father.

When Marlida returned home, her entrance cut through the heavy silence between Aziel and his grandfather. Her eyes immediately went to her son—and froze. Aziel was holding Imani in his arms.

“Iris!” she called sharply, scanning the room.

No answer.

“She’s not home yet,” the old man replied calmly.

“What?!” Marlida’s voice spiked, dripping with accusation. “She must have gone somewhere with that man—the one who took her away at the party.”

“Mother,” Aziel interrupted, his tone controlled. “I’ll put Imani to bed.” He left, carrying the sleeping child, leaving Marlida and his grandfather alone in the living room.

The old man leaned on his cane, his gaze hard. “You’ve overstayed your welcome. We’ll head back to the Valen Estate tomorrow.”

Marlida bristled. “Who will take care of my son? As you can see, that useless girl isn’t doing her job—”

“Enough!” the old man’s voice cracked like a whip. “If you had done even a quarter of what Iris does in this house—things your tyrannical son is too blind to see—my own son would still be alive. He would have had peace. But no… you were worse than Iris when he married you.”

With that, he turned and left her stewing in her rage. Marlida’s face twisted at the insult, the comparison burning her more than she’d ever admit.

The hospital lights were harsh and cold, but Aziel barely noticed them.

His entire focus was on the trembling woman in his arms.

“I need a doctor—now!” His voice cut through the quiet reception, sharp and commanding. Nurses looked up immediately, startled by the urgency in his tone.

Within seconds, Iris was taken from him and wheeled toward the emergency room. Aziel followed, ignoring the staff’s attempts to make him wait outside.

When the nurse peeled away the damp blouse, Aziel’s jaw tightened until it ached. The angry red burn across Iris’s skin made his stomach twist.

“How long has she had this?” the doctor asked, frowning.

Aziel’s voice came out low, dangerous. “It just happened. But there was another one earlier today.”

The doctor looked at him sharply. “Two scald burns in one day?”

Aziel’s fists clenched. He didn’t answer—because deep down, the truth was dawning on him, and it made his blood run hot.

The nurse began cleaning the wound. Iris whimpered, her body flinching under the sting of the antiseptic. Aziel instinctively stepped forward, his hand hovering over hers before finally taking it.

Her grip was weak, but she didn’t pull away.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was quiet now, but it shook.

Iris didn’t look at him. “Would it have mattered?”

Her words hit like a blow.

The doctor spoke again, oblivious to the tension between them. “She’s lucky she came in quickly. Another hour, and this could’ve gotten infected.”

Aziel’s mind replayed every interaction he’d had with his mother that day… every time he dismissed Iris without looking deeper.

His eyes dropped to her face—pale, exhausted, but still holding herself together. And suddenly, he saw the pattern. The avoidance. The bruises hidden in plain sight. The tired way she moved around him like she was trying not to be noticed.

His chest tightened painfully.

When the doctor stepped out to fetch ointment, Aziel leaned closer. “Iris… was it my mother?”

Her eyes flickered, but she didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. The truth was already written across her silence.

Aziel’s entire body went rigid. His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.

“She will never touch you again.”

For the first time in years, there was no cold detachment in his tone—only raw, unfiltered fury.

He stayed at her side through every step of the treatment, his hand never leaving hers, his mind already racing through what he would do when they got home.

“So… what’s her condition?” Aziel’s voice was low but strained, his eyes fixed on the doctor as though bracing for the worst.

The doctor glanced at the chart before speaking. “The burns are second-degree—serious, but treatable. We’ve cleaned the wounds and applied a specialized burn ointment. She’ll need daily dressing changes, antibiotics to prevent infection, and close monitoring for at least two weeks.”

Aziel swallowed hard, his gaze flicking back to Iris. Her eyes were closed, but he could tell from the faint crease in her brow that she was still in pain.

“She’s dehydrated and exhausted,” the doctor continued. “That tells me this wasn’t just a sudden accident. She’s been under physical and emotional strain for a while.”

Aziel’s jaw tightened. “Will there be scars?”

“There’s a chance,” the doctor admitted. “We’ll do everything possible to minimize it, but burns this deep can leave lasting marks.”

Aziel’s fingers curled into a fist at his side. His voice came out like steel. “Do whatever it takes. I’ll cover all costs—private care, specialists, whatever she needs.”

The doctor nodded and turned to give final instructions to the nurse.

When they were alone, Aziel sat down beside the bed, his hand hovering over Iris’s arm before resting lightly on it.

“You should rest,” he murmured.

Her lips barely moved. “You don’t have to stay.”

“Yes, I do.” His tone left no room for argument.

For the first time that night, her eyes opened. She looked at him—not as a husband she resented, but as a man she didn’t quite recognize. There was something new in his expression… something fierce and unshakable.

Aziel leaned closer, his voice low and deliberate. “Whoever hurt you, Iris… they just made the worst mistake of their life.”

By the time Aziel pulled into the driveway, the air around him felt electric—thick with the weight of something about to snap.

The lights in the living room were still on. Marlida was seated on the couch, legs crossed, sipping tea as though nothing had happened.

She looked up when the door opened. “Where have you been? And where is—”

Aziel’s voice cut through hers like a blade. “Don’t. Speak.”

The sharpness in his tone froze her mid-sentence. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with a force that made the frame rattle.

“I just came from the hospital,” he said slowly, his gaze locked on her. “Iris has second-degree burns. Do you want to tell me how that happened?”

Marlida’s eyes flickered—just for a second—before narrowing. “So now you believe her? She’s probably exaggerating, trying to make me look—”

“Shut your mouth.” The words came out low, dangerous. “If you say one more word to twist this, I swear I will make you regret it.”

Her lips parted, but nothing came out.

Aziel took a slow step forward, his presence towering over her. “She has been taking care of my daughter, this house, and you… while I’ve been too blind to see the truth. And tonight—” his voice hardened, “—you poured boiling water on her. Twice.”

“That’s not—”

“Twice, Mother!” His voice rose, echoing off the walls. “Do you have any idea what could have happened if she didn’t get to the hospital in time?”

Marlida set down her cup with trembling hands, but her pride kept her upright. “She deserved—”

Aziel’s fist slammed into the table beside her, the sound cracking through the room. “If you ever go near her again, if you so much as raise your voice at her, you will never see me or Imani again. Do you understand me?”

Her breath caught. She had never heard him speak to her like that.

“Pack your things,” Aziel ordered, his tone cold as steel. “You’re leaving first thing in the morning. Grandfather was right—you’ve overstayed your welcome.”

Marlida opened her mouth to argue, but the look in her son’s eyes told her this wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.

Without another word, Aziel turned away and headed upstairs—straight to Imani’s room.

And these made Merlida hated Iris the more.