IRIS: Fallen for him

CHAPTER TEN

Flora's suite looked like something from a luxury magazine spread. Every detail had been chosen with deliberate care-fresh lilies and deep red roses spilling over crystal vases, their fragrance mingling with the faint scent of expensive perfume. Two crystal wine glasses sat beside a chilled bottle, condensation sliding slowly down its surface.

She herself was dressed in a silk robe, half-loosened to reveal the suggestive lace beneath. Her hair fell over one shoulder in loose, styled waves, her lips painted a shade of deep crimson that made her eyes seem sharper.

When Aziel knocked once, she didn't even ask who it was. She already knew. The door swung open, and there he stood.

His brows drew together immediately, scanning the room. "Flora... what is this?"

She stepped forward, one hand holding a glass of wine, the other brushing lightly against his arm. "Babe, I missed you-every part of you."

Aziel's tone sharpened. "What? This is the emergency you called me for? Iris is sick and-"

Flora cut in, her voice low and coaxing. "And what? You're married? You don't even love her. Merlida told me everything. Stop pretending like you don't need me."

Aziel stared at her, speechless, caught between irritation and disbelief. When he tried to push her away, she gripped his shirtfront and pulled him close, pressing her lips against his.

He froze at first. But her scent, her touch-the echo of an old familiarity-slipped through his defenses. He had missed her in ways he hated to admit. His hands found her waist almost unconsciously, and soon the distance between them dissolved.

The hours blurred. The night was a haze of heated whispers, familiar patterns, and unspoken choices neither of them bothered to justify. The city outside was cold, but the room felt heavy with warmth and unrelenting momentum.

---

The next morning

Pale sunlight spilled through the curtains. The wine glasses sat empty, the flowers still holding their beauty but somehow sharper in the daylight. Both lay in tangled sheets, the quiet only broken by the soft hum of the hotel's heating system.

---

Imani had stayed curled up beside her mother all night. When she realized Iris still hadn't woken fully, her small hands fumbled for Iris's phone. She scrolled through the contacts until she found the name she wanted-Samantha.

The call was short and urgent.

Within minutes, Samantha arrived with Karen in tow. They moved quickly and quietly, cleaning the bedroom, preparing warm broth, helping Iris sit up just enough to sip it.

The doctor came again mid-morning, his expression more serious than before. "The fever's slightly down, but she needs continuous care. The antibiotics must be taken on schedule, and she should not be left alone for long periods."

Samantha exchanged a glance with Karen, the kind that carried an unspoken promise, they wouldn't leave her side.

---

The late afternoon light poured into the Valen mansion's living room, turning the cream-colored drapes a warm honey-gold. Iris was curled up on the sofa, a knitted throw draped over her lap, while Samantha sat opposite her with a cup of tea.

They'd been reminiscing and catching up, but the mood shifted when Samantha casually mentioned, "Oh, I ran into Skylar the other day-your cousin. She's driving now, you know? A shiny new coupe. And Miguel? He's got one too. They're living the good life. Parties, shopping trips... not a care in the world."

There was no bitterness in Samantha's tone, just observation-but it still made Iris's fingers tighten around her cup. She said nothing, though the faint flicker in her eyes betrayed her thoughts.

The conversation was interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the marble floor. Karen appeared, holding Imani's hand. The little girl's shoulders slumped, her head tilted downward as if she was carrying something heavy and invisible.

"Hi, mummy. Hi, Aunt Sam," she murmured, not looking up.

Karen frowned. "She's been like that since I picked her up from school. Barely said a word in the car."

Iris's motherly instincts kicked in immediately. She patted the cushion beside her, and Imani climbed up without hesitation.

"Baby," Iris said gently, brushing a stray curl from her daughter's face, "do you want mummy to be sad?"

Imani shook her head quickly, her lips pressing together.

"Then tell mummy what's wrong," Iris coaxed.

For a moment, Imani stayed quiet, fiddling with the hem of her uniform. Then she looked up, eyes glistening.

"Mummy... can daddy come for my graduation presentation?"

The question landed like a stone in the room.

Iris blinked, surprised. "Imani... I thought you didn't want your friends to know you're Aziel Valen's daughter."

"I don't," Imani admitted, her voice small. "But... Miss Adora said we'll have a special dance with our fathers. Nita, Gabriel, and the others were saying their daddies are coming. I just..." Her voice wavered. "...I just want daddy to come too."

Without warning, she wrapped her arms around Iris's waist, burying her face against her.

Samantha and Karen exchanged glances, both sensing the weight of what had just been said. There was a long, stretched-out silence before Iris finally sighed, stroking Imani's hair.

"Alright," she said softly. "Tonight, after dinner, we'll call your daddy. You can ask him yourself."

Imani's head popped up, her eyes suddenly bright with hope. "Really?"

"Really," Iris confirmed with a faint smile.

The little girl beamed, gave her mother another quick squeeze, and then bounded upstairs-already humming to herself.

When her footsteps faded, the atmosphere shifted again. Karen leaned forward slightly, her voice low but firm. "Where is he, Iris?"

Iris didn't flinch. Her answer was simple, and perhaps too honest. "I don't know."

The words hung in the air like the final note of a song, and none of them spoke for a while after that.

Dinner that night was light and warm, the air scented faintly with rosemary and garlic. Imani's mood was bright; she sat across from Iris, swinging her legs under the chair, her plate piled neatly with grilled chicken, mashed potatoes, and steamed vegetables.

"Mummy, can we call Daddy now? Before we eat?" she asked, eyes full of anticipation.

Iris shook her head gently. "Not yet, sweetheart. First, finish your food-especially your veggies."

Imani puffed her cheeks dramatically, but obeyed. She picked up her cutlery and began to eat, humming a little tune from one of her favorite cartoons. Her bites grew faster, almost urgent.

"Slow down, Imani, you'll choke," Iris warned, half amused, half concerned.

But the little girl was determined. In no time, her plate was spotless. She set down her fork with a triumphant clink. "Mummy, can we call Daddy now?"

With a small smile, Iris reached for her phone and handed it over.

The call rang once. Twice. Three times. No answer. Imani's brow furrowed, and she tried again. Still nothing. She kept trying, little fingers gripping the phone tighter each time. Finally, on the fifth attempt, the call connected.

"Daddy?" she said, her voice bright.

There was a pause-then a woman's voice, sharp and dripping with disdain. "What do you want, brat?"

Imani's mouth fell open. "Give the phone to my daddy."

"Your daddy is sleeping," the woman replied coldly.

"No! No!! Give the phone to my daddy! I want to speak to him now!"

Upstairs in her hotel suite, Flora froze when she heard Aziel's footsteps approaching. In one swift motion, she ended the call, deleted it from the call log, and tossed the phone onto the bed. She switched it to silent, just in case the little pest tried again.

Back at the mansion, Imani's face crumpled. She burst into tears, the sound sharp enough to bring Iris rushing from the kitchen, her hands still damp from the dishes.

"What happened?" Iris asked, crouching beside her.

Between hiccuping sobs, Imani explained. Iris's face tightened, but she said nothing. Something in her chest told her the truth-Aziel didn't sleep this early, especially not before 7:30 p.m. She picked up her phone, her fingers cold, and dialed his number herself.

This time, the line connected instantly.

Soft, breathy moans drifted through the speaker, tangled with Aziel's voice-low, coaxing. "Stay still... it won't hurt."

Iris's stomach twisted. She ended the call before the words could settle any deeper into her mind, grateful that Imani hadn't heard. Her disappointment was a quiet, crushing thing-too heavy for anger, too raw for tears.

Setting the phone aside, she pulled her daughter into her arms. She stroked Imani's hair until the crying subsided into small sniffles.

When the silence settled, Imani whispered, "Mummy... can I not go?"

"Go where, baby?"

"To the graduation. I... I don't want to anymore."

Iris forced a soft smile, lifting her daughter's chin. "Young lady, you'll be going. But here's what we'll do-we'll invite your grandpa, and he'll dance with you instead."

Imani's eyes widened. She sat up a little straighter. "That sounds like a plan."

They shared a small chuckle, the heaviness in the room lifting just enough for air to pass through.

"Now," Iris said with mock seriousness, "who wants some late-night ice cream and cartoons?"

Imani grinned, her earlier tears forgotten. "Of course I do!"

A few minutes later, the living room was transformed. The lights were dimmed, the curtains drawn, the big screen glowing in front of them. Iris curled up on the sofa with Imani, a blanket over their laps and two bowls of ice cream in hand. The flicker of the TV danced across their faces as they laughed together, their little cinema cocoon keeping each other's company.