CHAPTER 2
1968 Words
AZULA
It’s been two long weeks since I signed the divorce papers with Caius. I kept telling myself I needed more time to breathe, to think, to simply exist without any pressure. But time has passed, and now there’s no more running. It’s time to go back—back to the place I once called home. Back to my parents.
I know what’s waiting for me. Disappointment. Cold shoulders. Maybe even slammed doors. They warned me, after all. Still, a small part of me hopes that maybe, just maybe, they’ll find it in their hearts to let me in again. But even if they don’t, I know someone who will—my brother. He was always the one who saw me, not for what I could bring to the family name, but for who I really was. I’m counting on his open arms and understanding eyes to remind me that I’m not completely alone.
The story I told Caius wasn’t a total lie—it just wasn’t the whole truth either. Yes, my parents wanted me to marry a man I didn’t love, someone they believed could elevate our family’s already glittering status. And yes, they did threaten to disown me when I refused. But I might have painted the man in an unflattering light—made him seem old, maybe even cruel. In reality, he’s not old at all. In fact, he’s young, wealthy, powerful… and exactly the kind of man they wanted for a daughter like me.
Because the truth is, my family isn’t struggling financially. Far from it. We’re one of the most influential families in New York—listed in the top ten without a doubt. Power flows through our name like blood through veins. But that’s just it. I was never like them. I never cared for power plays social climbing or building empires. I wanted something simpler, something real.
And maybe that was my mistake.
In a world where love is a transaction and loyalty comes with a price tag, I chose to believe in something more. And now, I’m paying the price.
I guess I trusted humanity more than I ever trusted my own family. Maybe that was naive. Maybe that was my biggest mistake.
My thoughts were interrupted by the soft chime from the overhead speaker, announcing that our plane was beginning its descent into New York. I took a deep breath, snapped back into the present, and reached for my seatbelt, securing it as instructed.
The city I once knew so well was coming back into view, and though I tried to stay calm, my heart beat just a little faster. I turned to the window, watching the familiar skyline slowly rise as we touched down. The wheels hit the tarmac with a low, steady thud, like a final reminder—this is real. I’m back.
As soon as I switched off airplane mode on my phone, it buzzed in my hand with a message from my brother, Zev.
“I’m sorry, Azul. Something came up at the office, so I won’t be able to pick you up. I sent my friend Aria instead. Don’t worry—she already has your picture, and she’ll recognize you. She’s going to take you to one of my apartments. I’ll meet you there as soon as I’m done with my meeting. It’s really good to have you home, Azula.”
Perfect. I haven’t stepped foot in New York for five years, and now my grand return involves getting into a car with a stranger. Just what I needed.
Dragging my small cart behind me, I moved toward the waiting area, scanning the crowd with cautious eyes. People rushed past in all directions, lost in their own little worlds. No one looked twice. No one called my name. I was just another face in the crowd—an outsider returning to a city that barely remembered me.
And now, I had to trust someone I didn’t even know to take me… “home.”
“Ms. Azula?” a husky voice called out from behind me.
I froze, my fingers tightening around the handle of my cart. A steady breath slipped past my lips before I turned around, slowly, cautiously. My gaze landed on a man standing a few feet away—tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in dark pants and a fitted jacket. He looked like someone who had better places to be and zero patience for delays. His expression was unreadable, somewhere between bored and annoyed.
“You were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago,” he said flatly, eyes narrowing slightly as they met mine.
I blinked at him, then raised a brow. “Forgive me for not hopping out mid-air to give the plane a little push,” I replied, my tone dry as sand. I tilted my head, studying him. “Also… I wasn’t expecting a face full of beard with the name Aria.”
His jaw ticked, just the faintest clench, and he took a few slow steps forward—each one calm, like he wasn’t the one throwing passive-aggressive shade a moment ago.
“Aria is my sister,” he said evenly, his voice just as husky up close, maybe even deeper. “She got caught in some insane traffic and couldn’t make it, so she asked me to come in her place.”
“And I’m just supposed to believe that?” I asked, lifting a brow. “Your sister couldn’t make it because of traffic, yet you somehow could? Seems convenient.”
I took a step back, not out of fear—but caution. I may not be a public figure, not with my history of dodging interviews, attending private schools, and then vanishing off the radar thanks to Caius and his perfectly packaged version of love—but that doesn’t mean I can’t be a target. People disappear every day. Money or not.
“Look,” he growled, clearly running low on patience, “I just got off a d*mn flight myself. I didn’t even get the chance to go home or sleep. I stayed back at the airport because my sister asked me to help, and here I am—waiting for someone who thinks she’s starring in a spy movie.”
He stopped, jaw tightening. “And for the record, I was about to say brat, not whatever you’re imagining.”
Did he just call me a brat for no reason?
“I’m exhausted, Ms. Azula. Either you’re coming with me, or you’re not.”
I narrowed my eyes, still skeptical. “Can I at least get a name before I hop into a car with a bearded stranger?”
He exhaled sharply, clearly restraining himself. “Marek,” he finally said, his tone like gravel, “Marek Faelan.”
My eyes widened—not much, just enough that someone observant would notice.
And he noticed.
He is the same old man in the story I told Caius, my ex-fiance whose engagement I broke off by getting married to Caius the same day we should have announced our engagement to the public.
To think I didn’t even meet him once in the past.
“Unlike you, I don’t have enough free time on my hands.” he deadpanned before walking past me. The man who had been standing behind him reached for my cart and I let him wheel it to the car.
******************
The ride was quiet. Uncomfortably quiet. Not a word passed between us as the city blurred past the tinted windows. I kept my gaze outside, trying not to fidget, trying not to let the tension crawling up my spine get the better of me.
After what felt like forever, the car finally slowed down. I glanced up, expecting to see the exterior of one of Zev’s apartments.
Instead, we were pulling into what looked like an upscale, private garage. My eyes widened slightly at the sight—rows of high-end cars lined neatly like some kind of luxury showroom.
The car came to a full stop, and Marek reached for his door handle.
“Where are we?” I blurted out, unable to mask the confusion in my voice.
He stilled, turning slowly to meet my gaze.
“Where do you think we are?” he asked coolly.
“Zev said you were supposed to take me to one of his apartments,” I reminded him, suspicion creeping into my tone.
“And I did tell you the road was blocked, no?” The slight irritation told me not to push it. “Zev took the chopper to work. He will come to pick you up once he is done.” Without another word, he got out of the car and walked into the elevator, and I quietly followed suit.
The elevator doors slid open, revealing a space that felt more like an upscale showroom than a home.
The moment we stepped into the living room, I nearly winced.
It was lifeless.
Everything was either blinding white or jet black. Clean lines. Sharp corners. Not a plant, a picture, or a misplaced book in sight. Just a cold design. If it weren’t for the sound of our footsteps, I might’ve believed no one actually lived here.
“What would you like?” Marek asked, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto the back of a leather couch. “Wine, scotch, whiskey?”
I hesitated. My hand instinctively went to my stomach. I shouldn’t be drinking—not now. Not for the baby.
“Water’s fine,” I said quietly.
He was already halfway to the wine shelf when he stopped mid-reach. His hand hovered in the air.
“I thought you preferred wine after long flights,” he said, his voice lower now. Less casual. More…curious.
I blinked. Once. Twice. “How do you know that?”
He turned slowly, and for a second—just a second—his eyes softened. Like he knew more than he should. Like this wasn’t our first meeting, even if it was supposed to be.
He didn’t answer my question.
Instead, he placed the bottle of wine back on the shelf, turned away from the bar without a word, and disappeared into what I assumed was the kitchen.
A few seconds later, he returned—this time with a cold bottle of water. He handed it over without looking directly at me.
“You’ve been gone for what…” His lips pressed into a thin line. “Five years.”
The way he said it… like he’d been counting.
Why? Because I called off the engagement? Because I disappeared without a single word, married someone else, and never looked back?
“One would think,” he added, eyes flicking to mine, “you’d come visiting with your husband.”
My fingers tightened instinctively around the bottle. The chill of it seeped into my skin, but it couldn’t cool the sudden heat behind my eyes.
Tears threatened to fall, and I hated that. I hated how easy it was to cry these days.
Hormones. That’s what I’d blame.
“We got divorced two weeks ago,” I mumbled. I wasn’t even sure why I told him. I hadn’t told my parents. I hadn’t told anyone. But somehow, the words slipped out.
“And I’m not visiting,” I added softly. “I’m home… for good.”
I thought I saw it then—just the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth, like a smile that didn’t want to admit itself.
He gave a small, firm nod. “Good.”
I blinked at him, confused. “What’s good? My divorce?”
“No,” he said, already reaching for his jacket. “It was about time you came home.”
- Writer
