Chapter 38

Zoya's POV

The phone rang again, the sharp sound slicing through the stillness of my apartment. I glanced at the screen, Anna’s name flashing insistently. My chest tightened as I debated letting it go to voicemail, but I knew she wouldn’t stop.

With a sigh, I picked up. “Anna.”

“Zoya,” she said, her tone sweet but firm. “We need to talk.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said, my voice strained. “We’ve already agreed on the boundaries of this... arrangement.”

“I know,” she said quickly, cutting me off. “But this is important. I really need to see you.”

“Anna, I can’t—”

“If you don’t meet me,” she interrupted, her tone dropping to something colder, “I’ll talk to the media. I’ll tell them everything.”

The blood drained from my face. “You wouldn’t.”

Her silence was answer enough.

I closed my eyes, my mind racing. “Fine,” I said through clenched teeth. “Where?”

The café she chose was tucked away on a quiet street, far enough from the usual crowds to feel private—or so I thought. I spotted Anna immediately, seated at a corner table, her sunglasses perched on top of her head and a coy smile on her lips.

“Zoya,” she greeted as I approached, standing to kiss me on the cheek. The gesture felt overly familiar, and I resisted the urge to step back.

I sat down, folding my hands in my lap. “What’s this about, Anna?”

She tilted her head, feigning innocence. “I just wanted to see you. Is that so bad?”

I exhaled sharply, my patience already wearing thin. “Anna, we’ve been over this. What we have—it’s not real. It’s just for the public, to keep the rumors down. That’s all.”

Her smile faltered, and for a moment, I thought she might argue. But then she leaned forward, her voice soft. “Why can’t it be real, Zoya? Why can’t you give this a chance?”

“Because I can’t,” I said firmly. “You’re a great person, Anna, but... my heart’s not in this. It’s with someone else.”

Her expression shifted, a flicker of something dark crossing her face before she smoothed it over. “Olivia,” she said, the name dripping with bitterness.

I nodded, unwilling to deny it. “I’m sorry if that hurts you, but it’s the truth.”

Anna leaned back, crossing her arms. “And you think she feels the same way? After everything that’s happened?”

I hesitated, her words cutting deeper than I expected. “It doesn’t matter,” I said finally. “I can’t give you what you want, Anna. I’m sorry.”

Anna’s smile returned, but this time it didn’t reach her eyes. “I understand,” she said softly. “Really, I do. I just want you to be happy, Zoya.”

Her hand reached across the table, brushing against mine. I stiffened but didn’t pull away, not wanting to make a scene.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of movement. My head turned slightly, and my stomach dropped. Paparazzi.

They were barely visible, their lenses peeking out from behind a nearby parked car. My pulse quickened as I realized what this looked like.

“Anna,” I said warningly, trying to pull my hand back, but her grip tightened.

“It’s okay,” she said, her voice too sweet, too calm.

Before I could react, she stood, moving around the table to my side. Her hands cupped my face, her touch soft but firm as she leaned in.

“Anna, don’t—”

She kissed me, her lips pressing against mine with a force that stunned me. I froze, the shock of it paralyzing me as the cameras clicked furiously in the background.

When she pulled back, her smile was triumphant. “Now they’ll have something real to talk about,” she whispered.

My hands clenched into fists as anger surged through me, but before I could respond, she turned and walked away, leaving me sitting there, my heart racing and my mind spinning.

The set was already buzzing when I arrived, but the energy felt different—off. Crew members stopped talking as I passed, their glances lingering just a second too long before they looked away. My stomach churned as I clutched my bag tighter, pretending not to notice.

I knew why they were staring. I’d barely slept the night before, the image of Anna’s calculated kiss and the relentless click of the cameras haunting me. And now, the headlines were everywhere.

“Zoya El Deeb and Anna Lockhart Caught in Intimate Moment!”

“From Scandal to Romance: Zoya Moves On!”

“Love in the Spotlight: Zoya and Anna’s Secret Relationship Exposed.”

I shoved the thoughts aside as I entered my dressing room, closing the door behind me with a shaky breath. I hadn’t even had time to process what happened, let alone figure out how to handle the fallout.

A sharp knock on the door made me jump. Before I could answer, it flew open, and Olivia stormed in.

“Are you really seeing her?” she demanded, her voice sharp and cutting.

The question caught me off guard. “What?”

“Anna,” she snapped, stepping closer. “Are you really seeing her? I saw the pictures, Zoya. Everyone has. So, tell me—how can you move on so quickly?”

I froze, my chest tightening. I knew this confrontation was coming, but I hadn’t expected it to happen like this—so sudden, so raw.

“Olivia, keep your voice down,” I said quietly, glancing toward the door.

“Why?” she shot back, her arms crossed. “Afraid someone will hear? Let them. Maybe they should hear what you’re doing.”

Her words stung, and I felt my frustration rise. “We shouldn’t be having this conversation here,” I said firmly. “This isn’t the time or the place.”

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “Of course it’s not. It never is with you, is it? You’re always so careful, so guarded. But I can’t—I can’t do this anymore, Zoya.”

Her voice broke on my name, and the anger in her expression cracked, giving way to something else entirely.

Olivia's POV

I hated how my voice trembled, how I couldn’t keep the flood of emotions from spilling out. I hated how she stood there, calm and composed, while I felt like I was falling apart.

“How can you do this?” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “How can you just... move on like none of it mattered?”

Zoya’s eyes softened, and for a moment, I thought I saw her mask slip. “It’s not what it looks like, Olivia,” she said quietly.

“Then what is it?” I asked, my voice rising again. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve already forgotten about me. About us.”

She looked away, her jaw tightening. “There is no ‘us,’” she said finally, her voice strained.

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and I felt the tears welling in my eyes. “Don’t lie to me,” I said, my voice shaking. “I know how you feel, Zoya. I know, because I feel it too.”

Her head snapped up, her eyes locking with mine.

“I love you,” I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “I’ve been trying so hard to ignore it, to push it down, but I can’t anymore. I love you, and I can’t stand the thought of you with someone else.”

Zoya's POV

Her confession hit me like a tidal wave, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. I stared at her, the raw emotion in her eyes breaking through every defense I’d built.

“Olivia...” I began, but the words caught in my throat.

She stepped closer, her voice trembling but resolute. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel the same, Zoya. Don’t tell me this doesn’t mean anything to you, because I know it does.”

I tried to hold onto my composure, but it was slipping, unraveling with every word she spoke. “I’ve spent every day trying to protect you,” I said finally, my voice shaking. “Trying to protect us. But no matter what I do, it’s never enough.”

Her hand reached for mine, her touch warm and grounding. “You don’t have to protect me,” she said softly. “I just need you to be honest with me.”

The walls I’d built so carefully crumbled in that moment. I reached for her, my hand brushing against her cheek as I leaned in.

The kiss was slow at first, tentative, like we were both afraid to break the fragile moment. But then it deepened, the weight of everything we hadn’t said pouring into it.

For a few blissful seconds, nothing else existed—just us.

When we finally broke apart, her hands still lingered on my arms, her breathing uneven. But then I saw it.

A flicker of movement outside the window.

My heart stopped, and every nerve in my body went on high alert. “Get down,” I whispered, stepping away from her and moving toward the window.

“Zoya, what—”

“Stay here,” I said, cutting her off as I opened the door and bolted into the hallway.

The corridor was empty, but I could feel it—that presence, the same one I’d felt before. My feet pounded against the floor as I ran toward the side exit, the sound of my breath loud in my ears.

By the time I reached the door and threw it open, the street outside was deserted. The shadows stretched long and thin in the fading light, and the silence was deafening.

Whoever it was, they were gone.

Olivia's POV

I found Zoya outside, standing in the alleyway with her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath.

“What happened?” I asked, my voice shaky as I approached her.

She straightened, her eyes scanning the area before meeting mine. “I thought I saw someone,” she said quietly.

“A shadow?” I asked, my chest tightening.

She nodded, her expression grim. “I don’t know who it is, but this isn’t the first time.”

Her words sent a chill down my spine. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” she admitted, her voice soft. “But now... I don’t think I can ignore it anymore.”

The vulnerability in her eyes was like a punch to the gut. I reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. “We’ll figure this out,” I said, my voice firm. “Together.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t pull away.

Zoya's POV

The elevator doors creaked open, and I stepped out onto my floor, exhaustion settling into my bones. The day had dragged on endlessly, the weight of everything—Anna, the headlines, Olivia—pressing down on me like a suffocating blanket.

I fumbled with my keys as I reached my apartment door, my phone buzzing in my pocket. I pulled it out, blinking at the screen. A text from Olivia.

“Are you home safe? Let me know. I’m worried about... everything.”

My chest tightened as I stared at the message. I could almost hear her voice, the worry threaded through her words. Even after the chaos of today, she was thinking about me.

I unlocked the door, stepping inside and kicking off my shoes. I was about to text her back when a faint sound caught my attention—a soft scrape against the floor.

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. It came from the hallway.

Before I could move, a slim white envelope slid under my door, the edges catching the dim light.

My breath hitched as I stared at it, my pulse quickening. I dropped my bag and rushed to the door, throwing it open and stepping into the hallway.

“Hey!” I called out, my voice echoing down the corridor.

I caught the faint sound of footsteps—fast, retreating, heading down the stairs. I didn’t think. I ran after them, my bare feet slapping against the cool floor.

By the time I reached the stairwell, all I saw was the heavy door swinging shut below. Whoever it was, they were gone.

I returned to my apartment, my chest heaving as I locked the door behind me. The envelope sat where I’d left it, stark and ominous against the floor.

With shaky hands, I picked it up and tore it open, pulling out a single photograph.

The image hit me like a punch to the gut. It was Olivia and me, locked in the kiss from earlier that day, our emotions laid bare for anyone to see.

My fingers trembled as I flipped the photo over. Scrawled across the back in bold, jagged handwriting was a single message:

“Leave Olivia alone, or I will destroy both of your lives.”

The words blurred as tears filled my eyes. I clenched the photo in my hand, my thoughts racing.

Someone had been watching us. Someone knew.

A shiver ran down my spine as I realized the shadow wasn’t just a figment of my imagination. It was real, and whoever it was, they wanted me gone.