THEBILLIONAIRE ANDCLASSMATE
799 Words
Chapter 25: A Forced Ring
Three days after that stormy office conversation, Layla received a letter.
From Khalid’s lawyers.
Custody filing.
He was going to court.
Her hands shook as she read the words. Her heart beat wildly — not from love, but from terror.
She wasn’t afraid of losing Isa.
She was afraid of Isa being raised under power, not peace.
The next day, Khalid came to her apartment. No flowers. No smile.
Just him — and the weight of control.
“You want to fight me in court?” he asked. “You want Isa dragged into legal battles?”
She didn’t answer.
“Then marry me, Layla. Today. Quietly. I’ll drop everything else. We’ll figure out the rest later.”
She whispered, “This isn’t love.”
“I never said it was fair,” he said. “I said it’s real.”
That evening, in a tiny civil office, with no guests, no vows, no kiss —
Layla became Mrs. Arman.
---
That night, she sat on the edge of her bed — wearing a ring, but feeling cold.
Isa slept peacefully in his crib.
Khalid came in, unbuttoning his shirt. “We’re married. You’re safe now.”
She looked up. “You didn’t marry me to protect me. You married me to own me.”
He said nothing. But he didn’t deny it.
Layla turned off the lamp.
She whispered into the dark:
“You think you won, Khalid. But the version of me you knew… she died the moment I signed that paper.”
---Chapter 26: Her Heart Stayed Locked
The apartment was big.
The silence? Bigger.
Layla made herself a routine:
Wake up. Feed Isa. Dress him. Go to work. Return. Avoid Khalid. Sleep.
She shared a home with her husband —
but not a soul.
Khalid tried to play the role.
He kissed Isa’s forehead every morning. He read bedtime stories every night. He filled the fridge. Paid the bills. Bought Layla gifts she never touched.
But he couldn’t buy her peace.
One night, as he brought Isa back from the park, Layla watched them from the window.
The boy clung to Khalid’s neck, laughing with full trust.
Khalid smiled — not the smug grin he used to wear, but a soft, real one.
It shook something in her.
Later that night, Khalid knocked gently on her bedroom door.
She didn’t answer.
He opened it anyway, holding a warm cup of tea.
“I made this for you.”
She stayed silent.
He placed it on the nightstand and turned to leave, but paused.
“You don’t have to love me, Layla. But don’t shut me out of my own son’s heart.”
She looked at him — really looked.
“You didn’t want just a child, Khalid. You wanted control.”
“I did,” he admitted. “But Isa… he’s changing me.”
She stared at the tea. Still untouched.
“Then prove it,” she whispered.
“How?”
“Be the kind of man I wouldn’t have to escape from.”
Chapter 27: A Cupcake, A Kiss, A Complication
Khalid’s birthday was coming.
He didn’t mention it.
But Isa — who now said “Papa” every other minute — wouldn’t stop pointing at the calendar with a toddler’s excitement.
“Papa cake!” he said over and over.
Layla sighed.
She wasn’t planning anything.
She didn’t owe Khalid gifts. Or love. Or celebration.
But Isa’s smile…
That changed everything.
So on the evening of Khalid’s birthday, he came home to a soft glow in the apartment — candles, music playing low, and Isa in a tiny party hat.
Khalid blinked, stunned. “What… is this?”
Layla walked out of the kitchen, holding a tray.
One cupcake.
One candle.
One moment that softened everything.
“Happy birthday,” she said quietly.
He looked at her. She was wearing a pale blue dress. No makeup. Just her.
Beautiful.
Isa clapped as Khalid knelt and helped him blow the candle.
Later, after Isa slept — sugar high gone — Layla stood near the window.
Khalid walked over slowly. “Thank you… for tonight.”
She didn’t answer.
“I don’t deserve this,” he said softly.
“No,” she agreed. “You didn’t.”
“But you still did it.”
She looked up at him.
Something shifted.
He leaned forward — slow. Careful.
She didn’t move away.
When their lips met, it wasn’t like before — desperate or angry.
It was quiet. Real.
That night, they didn’t speak.
They let their bodies say what their hearts were too afraid to.
And in the morning, Layla lay awake before him, staring at the ceiling.
She didn’t regret it.
But she wasn’t sure she could survive it again.
- Writer
