He loathed her, and she was powerless to change that.
The following morning, Saba walked into the dining room.
She slowed as she spotted him, standing by the window, a cup ofkahawain his hand, his back turned to her.
His body locked, aware of her entrance, but he didn’t turn immediately.
Nada, that would have been too easy.
In time, the heat of his eyes dragged from the view as if he were deciding whether or not she was worth the effort of another hateful glance.
When he did face her, his gaze was a weapon, raking her from head to toe, undressing her with his rage, not desire.
His jaw clenched.
The muscles in his neck tightened as he gripped the handle of the cup a little too hard.
For a moment, Saba thought he might say something, that his anger might spill out into words. But he didn’t.
He stared as if trying to sear her into the floor with the intensity of his hatred. His nostrils flared, his lips pressed into a thin, angry line.
He slammed the mug onto the table with a hissed exhale, the force making her flinch. The sound echoed through the silent room, but he didn’t care.
Without a word, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room, his long strides purposeful, dismissive.
The message was clear: She was unwanted and a burden, and nothing she did would change that.
Chapter 12
SABA
Days wore on, and the bitterness of Mak’s apparent and relentless rejection burned.
Saba’s loneliness became unbearable.
One morning, restless and bored after breakfast, she wandered through the cool, empty corridors of the lodge, yearning for a connection.
She wandered into the wings she had not yet seen, where intricate woodwork adorned the walls, and opulent furnishings decorated room after room.
Mesmerized by every detail, from the chandeliers hanging from high ceilings to the plush rugs lining the floors.
Walls showcased alcoves and niches filled with treasures, from delicate ceramics to gold figurines that glowed with subtle luster and art framed in mahogany.
Each living area was designed with fluidity, seamlessly transitioning from the interior to the exterior, allowing the breeze to circulate and the sky to be visible from its numerous courtyards.
Saba sighed, imagining family and friends gathered for intimate candlelit dinners overlooking a flower-filled internal garden.
It was a stunning home, a realm of luxury and privilege she was now a part of, yet void of love and laughter.
She headed down a set of new stairs to a lower level of the living spaces.
She rounded a corner and found a pair of open doors.
Approaching them, she arched a brow as she gazed into a high-tech training dojo. Her heart lurched.
For, in the center of the room, was Mak. Alone, immersed in hiskapotraining.
Saba stepped to the side of the massive doorway, hidden in the shadows, and watched him move with a mastery that stole her breath away.
