CHAPTER 8
747 Words
Zara sat at the edge of her bed that evening, elbows on her knees, chin resting in her palms. Her room, once her safe space, now felt like a cage. The walls seemed to echo with everyone else’s decisions—plans she hadn’t agreed to, dates she hadn’t picked, and a wedding she still couldn’t believe was happening.
Her phone buzzed beside her.
Kemi:
Are we still good for the next shoot this weekend? You haven’t said anything all day.
Zara typed quickly.
Zara:
Yeah. We’re good. Just drowning in family drama. Again.
She didn’t elaborate. There was no point. Kemi already knew enough.
A knock sounded at her door.
Her heart sank.
Not now.
She hesitated. “What?”
“It’s me,” Regan’s voice came through.
Zara groaned inwardly. She opened the door halfway. “What do you want?”
Regan didn’t flinch at her tone. He leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, holding a document in one hand. “Your father gave me this to pass to you. Pre-engagement itinerary.”
She eyed the stapled sheets but didn’t reach for them. “And you’re his errand boy now?”
“Apparently.”
He handed it to her. Their fingers brushed—brief, but enough to remind her of how real all of this had become. She snatched the paper and moved to close the door, but his foot slid in.
She glared.
“I’m not here to fight,” he said simply. “I just… I have a question.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Go on.”
Regan hesitated. “Why the one-year clause? Why not just refuse the marriage altogether?”
Zara blinked, caught off guard. She hadn’t expected him to ask that—at least not now.
She leaned against the door, clutching the papers to her chest. “Because saying no wasn’t enough. They already decided my future for me. The best I could do was draw a line—give myself a deadline.”
He studied her for a long moment. “So this is about control.”
“This is about survival,” she replied coldly. “I had to make them think they were winning while keeping a piece of my life for myself.”
Regan gave a slow nod, like he finally understood.
Then he said, “And the modeling? Is that your escape plan?”
Zara’s throat tightened. “It’s not a plan. It’s my passion. Something that’s mine. That they didn’t choose.”
Zara looked at Regan, curiosity mixed with frustration flickering in her eyes. So now your turn “Why didn’t you just say no to the whole marriage proposal? Why agree to be your father’s pawn in all this?”
Regan shrugged, a tired weight settling on his shoulders. “It’s more complicated than that.”
She raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I’m bored already, and I’ve got all the time in the world to hear your reasons.”
He sighed, then took a seat beside her. “When we were growing up—me and my little brother—our father always favored him. My brother was the golden boy, the protector of the family. He did everything to keep us safe, to uphold the family name. I was more like the pawn in the family chessboard.”
Zara listened intently, sensing there was more beneath the surface.
“After my brother died, I tried to be the son my father could be proud of. To keep up the family legacy. The pressure was immense. This marriage… it’s not just about us. It’s about business, about alliance, about keeping the families connected. My father sees it as a way to hold everything together.”
He glanced at her, vulnerability breaking through his usual guarded expression. “I had to go along with it. To make him happy. To keep the legacy alive.”
Zara leaned back, letting his words sink in. The weight of tradition and expectation wasn’t just hers to bear.
He turned and walked down the hallway, quiet and calm.
Zara shut the door softly this time. Then she dropped the papers on her table and sat back on the bed, eyes on the ceiling, her mind spiraling.
Every time she thought she had a grip on the situation, it shifted again.
And Regan… he was starting to confuse her more than anyone else.
Not because he was cruel or cold.
But because he was beginning to make sense.
- Writer
