CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
“Small secrets.”
For the next few days, life settled back into something that almost resembled normal.
Almost.
Zara threw herself into work.
Malik buried himself in meetings.
They still ate dinner together most evenings.
Still argued over whose turn it was to load the dishwasher.
Still watched old films until one of them inevitably fell asleep on the sofa.
From the outside...
They looked happy.
From the inside...
Malik carried something he hadn't told her.
And every day he delayed the conversation, it became a little harder to start.
Wednesday evening found Zara standing barefoot in the kitchen, attempting to make homemade lasagne.
The recipe was balanced against a bowl of tomatoes.
Flour covered the worktop.
Somehow, there was even flour on her cheek.
Malik walked in from work, loosened his tie and stopped in the doorway.
"What happened here?"
She looked around innocently.
"I'm cooking."
"It looks like the kitchen lost a fight."
"I prefer to call it creative."
He laughed, setting his briefcase down.
"You've got flour..."
He stepped closer.
"...right here."
He gently brushed the flour from her cheek with his thumb.
She smiled.
"Thank you."
"You know..."
"What?"
"I like coming home to you."
Her smile widened.
"I like waiting for you."
He kissed her softly.
Moments like these reminded him exactly what he stood to lose.
Dinner wasn't perfect.
The pasta sheets were slightly overcooked.
The garlic bread was burnt around the edges.
Neither of them cared.
They laughed their way through the meal.
"This is actually good," Malik admitted.
"You sound surprised."
"I was prepared to order takeaway."
She narrowed her eyes.
"You're banned from judging my cooking."
"I wasn't judging."
"You were preparing an emergency plan."
"That's just good planning."
She threw a napkin at him.
After dinner, Zara cleared the plates while Malik answered a quick work call on the balcony.
Or at least...
That's what he told her.
In reality, it was Marcus.
"We've got an update."
Malik lowered his voice.
"I'm listening."
"The journalist who approached Zara?"
"Yes?"
"He wasn't freelance."
Malik's expression changed.
"He works for someone."
"For Devon?"
"We can't prove it."
"But we don't think it's coincidence."
Malik looked through the glass doors at Zara humming quietly while washing dishes.
"What about Lena?"
Marcus paused.
"We've looked into her."
"And?"
"She's clean."
"No contact with Devon."
"No unusual financial activity."
"Nothing."
Malik nodded slowly.
"Keep looking anyway."
"You don't trust coincidences?"
"I used to."
"Not anymore."
The following morning, Zara was searching for a notebook when Malik's phone buzzed on the kitchen counter.
She wasn't trying to snoop.
She simply glanced at the screen.
Lena Matthews
Thank you again for hearing me out.
I truly hope you find the peace you deserve.
Her hand froze.
Lena?
Before she could think, Malik walked into the kitchen carrying two coffees.
He noticed where she was looking.
His stomach dropped.
The phone stopped buzzing.
Silence settled between them.
"Who's Lena?"
Her voice wasn't accusing.
Just curious.
Malik stared at the screen for a moment.
Then looked back at Zara.
"Someone from my past."
She waited.
He didn't continue.
"That's all?"
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"We used to know each other."
The answer wasn't false.
It simply wasn't complete.
Zara studied him carefully.
"You've never mentioned her."
"I know."
"You were together?"
He hesitated.
"Years ago."
Before prison.
Before Foundation House.
Before Zara.
She nodded slowly.
"Okay."
He could see she wanted to ask more.
Instead she smiled politely.
"I should get going."
She picked up her handbag.
"Kiss?"
He leaned down and kissed her goodbye.
She smiled.
But something about it felt different.
Not colder.
Just...
Thoughtful.
By lunchtime, Malik regretted not telling her everything.
He replayed the conversation in his head.
He should have said:
"She came to see me this week."
"She apologised."
"That was all."
Instead...
He'd let the moment pass.
Now bringing it up would sound defensive.
And that irritated him.
He'd spent years learning that honesty mattered.
Yet somehow, he'd still chosen the easier conversation.
Across the city, Devon sat in the back room of an exclusive members' club.
The photographer placed another envelope on the table.
"Today's photographs."
Devon looked through them slowly.
Malik leaving work.
Zara entering Bellamy & Co.
Their apartment building.
Then...
A photograph of Lena leaving Carter Developments two days earlier.
Devon smiled.
"Excellent."
The photographer frowned.
"They only spoke."
"I know."
"Nothing happened."
"I know."
"So why are you smiling?"
Devon placed the photograph beside the others.
"Because truth isn't always what ends relationships."
He tapped the picture.
"Timing does."
He slid the photograph back into the envelope.
"And this..."
"...is going to arrive at exactly the right moment."
That evening, Zara met Naomi for coffee after work.
They found a quiet table near the window.
Naomi stirred her cappuccino.
"You've gone quiet."
"I have?"
"You've answered three questions with one word."
Zara looked out at the busy street.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Always."
"If your partner had an ex you didn't know about..."
Naomi laughed.
"I'd assume they had more than one."
"No..."
Zara smiled despite herself.
"I mean if they suddenly contacted them."
Naomi's expression became more serious.
"Did that happen?"
"I don't know."
"What do you mean?"
"I saw a name on Malik's phone."
"And?"
"He said she's someone from his past."
"That's technically an answer."
"I know."
"It just felt..."
She searched for the word.
"...unfinished."
Naomi leaned forward.
"Do you trust him?"
"Yes."
"Then trust him enough to ask the hard questions."
That night, Malik unlocked the apartment to find Zara sitting cross-legged on the sofa with one of her psychology books open on her lap.
She looked up and smiled.
A genuine smile.
Relief washed over him.
Maybe he'd imagined the distance.
Maybe everything was fine.
He walked over and kissed the top of her head.
"What are you reading?"
"Attachment theory."
He laughed.
"That sounds dangerous."
"It probably is."
She closed the book.
"Can I ask you something later?"
His heart sank.
"Of course."
"When?"
She smiled softly.
"After dinner."
He smiled back.
But as he carried his briefcase into the bedroom, he couldn't shake the feeling that the conversation he'd avoided was finally waiting for him.
Sometimes...
The smallest secrets were the ones that grew the fastest.
And neither of them realised that someone else was already watering them.