Chapter 4: Under His Roof
874 Words
Chapter 4: Under His Roof
The ride to his house was silent.
Not the comfortable kind.
Not the kind that gave space to breathe.
This silence was heavy, pressing down on Amara’s chest like something unspoken sat between them, waiting.
She kept her gaze fixed on the window, watching the city lights blur past. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop replaying it.
The kiss.
It had been meant for show.
Nothing more.
So why did it feel like everything had changed?
Beside her, Alexander sat still, composed as ever, his expression unreadable. As if nothing had happened.
As if he hadn’t just crossed a line neither of them had defined.
The car slowed.
Then stopped.
Amara blinked, pulling herself out of her thoughts.
They had arrived.
She stepped out slowly, her heels touching the smooth ground as her eyes lifted to take in the mansion before her.
It was even more intimidating at night.
Lights glowed from every corner, casting a soft golden reflection against the polished exterior. Everything about it screamed power. Control.
Him.
Amara swallowed.
“This is where you live?” she asked quietly.
Alexander walked past her without answering immediately. “You’ll get used to it.”
That wasn’t an answer.
But she followed anyway.
The doors opened before they reached them, staff already waiting inside.
“Welcome home, sir,” one of them said.
Home.
The word felt strange in her ears.
Alexander stepped in like he belonged there.
Amara stepped in like she didn’t.
The interior was just as overwhelming. Marble floors. High ceilings. A chandelier that looked like it belonged in a palace.
She wrapped her arms slightly around herself, suddenly aware of how out of place she felt.
“Your room is upstairs,” Alexander said.
Amara frowned. “My room?”
“Yes.”
She turned to him fully now. “Not our room?”
His gaze met hers, calm and steady. “This is a contract marriage, Amara.”
The words were sharp.
Clear.
Final.
Something in her chest tightened, though she didn’t understand why.
“Right,” she said softly.
Of course.
What did she expect?
He gestured toward the staircase. “Come.”
She followed him up, her steps slower this time.
When they reached the room, he pushed the door open.
It was beautiful.
Spacious. Elegant. Perfect.
But it didn’t feel like hers.
“This will be your space,” he said.
Amara stepped inside, taking it all in. “And yours?”
“Down the hall.”
She let out a quiet breath. “So we’re… roommates.”
A faint smirk touched his lips. “Something like that.”
She turned to face him again, crossing her arms. “We should probably talk about rules.”
His expression shifted slightly. Interested.
“Go on.”
Amara lifted her chin. “We’re married on paper. That’s all. No emotions. No complications.”
His gaze didn’t leave hers.
“Agreed.”
“No interference in each other’s personal lives.”
“Within reason.”
She narrowed her eyes slightly. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” he said calmly, stepping a little closer, “as long as it doesn’t affect me or my reputation, I don’t care what you do.”
The words were cold.
Detached.
Amara forced herself not to react.
“Fine,” she said. “And in public?”
“In public,” he said, his voice lowering slightly, “you’re my wife.”
Her breath caught.
The way he said it…
It didn’t sound like a role.
It sounded like a claim.
“We act convincing,” he continued. “No mistakes. No hesitation.”
Amara nodded slowly. “I can do that.”
“I know.”
Silence fell between them again.
Different this time.
He didn’t leave.
She didn’t move.
The memory of the kiss hung in the air, unspoken but impossible to ignore.
Amara cleared her throat. “That kiss…”
His eyes darkened slightly.
“What about it?”
She hesitated, then forced the words out. “Was that part of the deal?”
A pause.
A long one.
Then—
“No.”
Her heart skipped.
“Then why did you—”
“Because people were watching,” he cut in smoothly.
Logical.
Simple.
But something about it didn’t sit right.
Amara studied his face, searching for something.
Anything.
But like always, he gave nothing away.
“Right,” she said again, softer this time.
He stepped back, the moment breaking just like that.
“Get some rest,” he said. “Tomorrow will be busy.”
And just like that, he turned and walked out.
The door closed behind him.
Amara stood there for a long moment, staring at nothing.
Her fingers slowly lifted, brushing against her lips.
She could still feel it.
The warmth.
The pressure.
The way it hadn’t felt fake at all.
Her chest tightened.
“This is just a contract,” she whispered to herself.
One year.
No feelings.
No mistakes.
But as she stood alone in that unfamiliar room, Amara couldn’t shake the feeling that something had already gone wrong.
And she didn’t know how to fix it. 🔥
- Writer
