129
Sunlight crept through the sheer curtains of the bedroom, brushing gold across the bed where Yalda lay. Her lashes fluttered slowly as she stirred. Her lips were dry, her temples were pulsing with the ache of too many tears. Her throat felt raw, her eyes swollen. It was the kind of exhaustion that settled into her bones, yet something in her had stilled overnight.
Her stomach churned the moment she sat up, nausea rolling in like a wave. She staggered to the bathroom, rinsed her face with cold water, and caught her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were rimmed with red, but beneath the puffiness was something new; clarity.
She had cried enough.
By the time she stepped out into the main suite, wearing one of Ioannis’s oversized shirts, he was already awake, dressed in dark slacks and a crisp white shirt, sipping his espresso by the window.
He turned the moment he heard her.
His expression softened. “You don’t look well.”
Yalda gave a small, humorless chuckle. “You should’ve seen me last night.” she said, attempting to be humorous.
“I did,” Ioannis replied, walking toward her. He reached out gently, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “You scared me.”
“I scared myself.” Her voice was quiet. “I couldn’t breathe. It felt like drowning.”
He cupped her cheek, thumb caressing her skin with a softness only she ever saw from him. “We don’t have to stay, agapi mou. I’ll arrange our departure immediately.”
But Yalda shook her head.
“No,” she said, her voice stronger this time, clearer. “I’m not running.”
Ioannis raised a brow. “You’re sure?”
She exhaled slowly, nodding. “I spent the whole night falling apart because he looked through me like I didn’t exist. Like I meant nothing.” Her jaw tensed. “If he can pretend I never happened, then I can do the same. I won’t cower like some fragile thing.”
He regarded her for a long moment, then smiled faintly, proudly perhaps. “Very well.”
And with that, the shift began.
Yalda spent the rest of the morning restoring herself. She took her time in the bath, letting the lavender oils soothe her skin, letting the steam cleanse her grief. Ioannis had called in breakfast, though she only nibbled at the fresh berries and toast. Her appetite hadn’t fully returned, but her spine was straight, her gaze sharper.
She had settled for a bold look today. She loved the dress she was wearing; It was red. Deep, dangerous, and elegant. A plunging neckline, a bare back, the silk cutting in at her waist before flaring with graceful defiance. It was the kind of dress meant to silence a room.
And it was perfect.
As evening approached, Ioannis stood by the window, fastening his cufflinks, watching the reflection of Yalda in the mirror behind him.
She emerged from the bedroom slowly, her dark waves cascading over her bare shoulder, hazel eyes framed in gold and shadow. A thin diamond chain hung around her neck, and her heels clicked softly against the marble floor.
Ioannis turned around, his dark eyes raking over her in unguarded appreciation.
He whistled low under his breath. “You’re trying to kill a man tonight.”
Yalda arched a brow, her lips painted the color of blood. “Maybe.”
He offered his arm, and she took it with quiet poise.
The walk to the venue was silent, but it wasn’t tense. It was focused. No matter what happened this evening, she was going to stay strong.
The grand ballroom tonight was even more magnificent than the previous evening. There were more guests, more opulence, more champagne flowing like rivers. Every man they passed turned to glance at her, their conversations stalling mid-sentence. And Yalda knew, it wasn’t just the dress. It was the way she wore it.
She walked with her chin high, the faintest, most dangerous smile gracing her lips.
Ioannis kept close, but let her lead. He understood her well enough not to hover, not to hold her back. He knew that this was personal, and he knew that when the night ended, she'd be cuddled up in his arms.
They mingled with investors, socialites, royalty in all but title. Yalda spoke when she wanted, charmed when she pleased. She knew the rhythm of these circles after all.
Yet beneath the grace, her heart beat with a quiet thunder. She didn’t search for Alexander. She didn’t need to. She knew he’d see her. She could feel it in her bones. She was too prominent to be missed.
Somewhere across the room, the man who had torn her heart apart was going to look up and see what he had lost. And this time, he wouldn't be able to look away.
She wasn’t here to prove her worth. She was here to remind herself she never lost it.
As the night stretched on and the orchestra struck into a seductive waltz, Ioannis leaned down slightly and murmured into her ear, “Do you want to leave now? You’ve made your statement.”
Yalda turned her head toward him slowly, that same dangerous smile lifting one corner of her lips.
“No,” she said softly. “Let’s dance.”
And so they did.
Under the crystal chandeliers, in a room filled with power, wealth, and politics, Yalda glided across the floor in the arms of a man who respected her, trusted her, and gave her space to breathe.
But it wasn’t Ioannis she thought of as her gown swayed and her heart pounded. It was the pair of grey eyes she so desperately wanted to watch her from across the room.
She wanted Alexander to regret letting her go, she wanted him to watch her, to see her and know that she was no longer his, that he couldn't tell her what to do anymore. She wanted him to see her and remember all the times she had looked this good for him, all the times he hadn't cared to compliment her.
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