LOGINChris's POV
I couldn't believe she had resigned.The letter was still sitting on my desk. I had read it three times already, yet the words refused to make sense. Ayesha wasn't the type to quit. In four years, she had never once threatened to leave the company. She came to work even when she was sick. She stayed late whenever a project demanded it. She followed rules so carefully that sometimes it annoyed me.
Yet she had walked away without even speaking to me. More than anything, I felt guilty. I pushed her to do it. I loosened my tie a bit. The air was getting really stuffy. So that was the statement she was trying to make when she didn't pick up her phone.
I exhaled heavily. Before I could think any further, my gaze drifted to the pregnancy report still lying on my desk.
The report.
The reason this entire mess had exploded in the first place. I picked up my phone and called Gemma.
"Meet me at eleven. We're going to see the doctor."
"Alright, sir. Give me a minute," she answered in a fruity voice.
I put down the phone and clenched my fists. Something about this situation still didn't sit right with me. The hotel incident, the missing memories and the pregnancy.
None of it felt normal.
Yet every piece of evidence seemed to point back at me. By eleven, I was waiting in my car outside the office building. I had asked my driver to take the day off. This was something I wanted to handle personally.
A few minutes later, Gemma came out through a different exit. She opened the passenger door and sat down beside me as if she belonged there. Then she pulled out a compact mirror and started touching up her makeup.
I looked away.
"So, Chris," she said after a while. "You're doubting me?"
I remained silent.
"You don't believe this baby is yours?"
"We're about to find out."
She laughed lightly."That's not an answer."
I turned to look at her. "If it turns out you've been lying to me, I'll make sure you regret it."
Her smile disappeared.
"And don't speak informally to me. Remember, we were never a thing. Don't give yourself false hope."
She pouted but didn't argue. The rest of the drive passed in silence. Azul Hospital belonged to my company. That was exactly why I chose it. I trusted the doctors there. If there was any truth to be found, I would find it there.
We arrived and were directed into a consultation room. The doctor was a middle-aged woman with dark hair tied neatly behind her head.
Mrs. Vivian.
She had known my family for years. The moment she saw me, she smiled.
"Well, look who we have here. Christopher Azul."
"It's good to see you, Mrs. Vivian."
She folded her arms. "You haven't visited in ages."
"I've been busy."
"You always say that."
I smiled faintly. Then her eyes shifted toward Gemma. The smile on her face changed.
"Your wife?"
"No." The answer came out immediately. "She's Gemma Arterton. An employee."
"Oh." Mrs. Vivian nodded.
Fortunately, she didn't ask further questions. Instead, she focused on her work. After reviewing the previous report, she suggested running another examination to confirm everything properly. Gemma followed her into another room.
I stayed behind. The waiting period felt longer than it actually was. I stared at the wall clock, at the floor. Then at my phone.
I almost called Ayesha again. But I stopped myself. What would I even say?
Sorry I publicly rejected your proposal? Sorry another woman claims she's carrying my child? Or sorry I shouted at you afterward?
None of those sounded sufficient. Eventually, the door opened. Gemma and Mrs. Vivian returned. My stomach tightened. Mrs. Vivian sat across from me.
"The pregnancy is confirmed."
The words landed heavily.I closed my eyes briefly. So there was no mistake. Gemma was pregnant. When I opened my eyes again, she looked almost triumphant.
"I told you."
I ignored her. "How far along?" I asked.
Mrs. Vivian looked at the file. "A little over two months."
Two months? The timeline matched. That fact alone made me feel worse. I thanked the doctor and collected the documents. The ride back was quiet. My thoughts wouldn't stop racing. If the child was mine, then this wasn't just a personal problem anymore. It affected my company, my reputation, my future and Ayesha. Especially Ayesha.
When we left the hospital, Gemma suddenly grabbed my sleeve.
"Can we stop somewhere first?"
I frowned. "What for?"
"I haven't eaten."
I looked at her. She quickly placed a hand over her stomach.
"The doctor said I need to take care of myself."
I hated how effective that argument was. Ten minutes later, we were inside a shopping mall.
Gemma insisted she wanted food first. Then she wanted juice, then she wanted to look around. The entire thing felt suspiciously convenient. But creating a scene in public would only attract attention. So I endured it.
While she wandered through a clothing section, I checked my phone. Still nothing from Ayesha. My chest tightened. I had never realised how much I relied on her answering my calls. Then again, she always answered. Until now.
I looked up absentmindedly. And froze. A few stores away stood a familiar figure.
Ayesha.
She was browsing through a rack of oversized sweaters. For the first time in days, she looked peaceful.There was even a small smile on her face. A strange feeling settled in my chest. It was relief.
Before I could stop myself, I started walking towards her.
"Ayesha."
She turned.The smile vanished instantly.
The change hurt more than I expected.
"Ayesha."
She didn't speak.I stopped in front of her.
"What happened yesterday?"
Her eyebrows lifted."What happened yesterday?"
"Why did you leave work so abruptly?"
She stared at me. I suddenly realised how ridiculous that question sounded. Of course she had left. Anyone would have. I tried again.
"You resigned without speaking to me. I called you."
No answer.
"I wanted to explain."
That finally got a reaction. A short laugh escaped her. It was not a happy laugh. It was the kind of laugh people made when they were exhausted.
"Explain what?"
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. Because I didn't actually know where to start. There were too many things.
"Didn't you see my resignation letter?"
I frowned. "Of course I saw it."
"Then why are you asking why I left?"
Her voice wasn't loud, just disappointed. I suddenly felt like the villain.
"Ayesha, listen to me."
"No."
Her answer was immediate. I stared at her. She had never spoken to me like that before. Not even once.
"Please."
The word slipped out before I could stop it. Her expression changed slightly.
"I don't want to do this right now, Chris."
The use of my name made my chest tighten.bShe never called me that. It was always Mr. Chris. She was always respectful.
"Ayesha."
She looked directly into my eyes.bFor the first time since I'd known her, there was no warmth there.
"Go away, Chris."
The words struck harder than they should have.
"I have nothing to say to you."
Then she turned around and walked away. I stood there watching her disappear into the crowd. For some reason, I couldn't move. The resignation letter had shocked me, the unanswered calls had worried me.
But this?
This was the moment it finally sank in. Ayesha wasn't throwing a tantrum. She wasn't waiting for me to fix things. She wasn't coming back after she calmed down.
She was done with me.
Chris's POVI didn't sleep that first week without Gemma in the house. The silence felt different now, heavier, full of the things I hadn't let myself think about while I was busy convincing myself I was doing the responsible thing.It was a Sunday morning, early enough that the light outside was still gray, when I gave up on sleep entirely and turned on the television without any real intention of watching anything. I flipped through channels the way a person flips through their own thoughts when they're trying not to land on one in particular.Then I stopped.She was sitting across from a morning show host in a bright studio, a microphone clipped near the collar of a fitted rust colored dress, her hair loose around her shoulders in a way I had never once seen her wear it at the office. She looked nothing like the woman who used to sit quietly at her desk finishing reports after everyone else had gone home. She also looked, somehow, exactly like herself, the version of herself I thin
Chris's POVThe months after Ayesha resigned passed in a way I could only describe as gray. Gemma moved into the mansion within a week of the confirmed pregnancy, carrying in boxes I hadn't agreed to make room for, rearranging furniture in rooms I rarely used and some I did.I told myself it didn't matter. None of it mattered, not really, not measured against the responsibility I believed I carried now. I had been raised to take ownership of my mistakes, and if this was mine, then I would see it through properly, whatever that cost me.It cost more than I expected.Gemma redecorated the east sitting room without asking, replacing furniture that had belonged to my mother with pieces she preferred. She began monitoring household accounts that weren't hers to monitor. She attended events at my side, something Ayesha had never once been allowed to do, and positioned herself carefully in every photograph, every introduction, every conversation with my associates, referencing the baby const
Ayesha's POVThe idea came to me while I was sweeping the gallery floor late one evening, frustrated after a second rejection from Marlene Kline's office. Diana's words kept circling in my head. Stop asking for permission. Make them notice you.I thought about the children's hospital three blocks from my old apartment, the one I used to pass on my way to work and never once stopped to think about. I thought about how much good a little attention could do, for them and for me both, if I built something worth paying attention to.I called the hospital's community outreach office the next morning and proposed a charity art night. All proceeds from sales would go toward their pediatric ward. I would cover the wine and the printed invitations myself. All I asked was that they let me put their name on it.They said yes before I had even finished my sentence.I spent two weeks preparing. Diana donated three smaller pieces for the cause without me even having to ask. I reached out to two other
Ayesha's POVShe walked in on a Tuesday afternoon, when the gallery was empty except for the hum of the radiator and the faint smell of fresh paint that still hadn't fully faded."You're the owner?" she asked, not bothering with a greeting."I am. Ayesha Adams." I extended my hand.She didn't take it. She was already moving past me, studying the walls with narrowed eyes, the way someone studies a problem rather than a room. She was tall, sharp featured, somewhere in her forties, with paint stains on her fingers that no amount of scrubbing had ever quite gotten out."This space is wrong for hanging anything larger than a meter," she said. "Your lighting is decent. Your floor creaks in three places, which is honestly charming if you market it right.""I'm sorry, who are you?""Diana." She finally looked at me properly. "I paint. I've been looking for somewhere that isn't a corporate lobby or a coffee shop to show my work, and most galleries in this city want nothing to do with anyone wh
Ayesha's POVThe bank loan officer had kind eyes and a stack of paperwork that seemed to multiply every time I blinked. I sat across from her in a small glass office, my hands folded so tightly in my lap that my knuckles had gone pale."You're proposing a gallery space," she said, scanning my application. "Have you run a business before?""No," I admitted. "But I've worked in corporate finance for four years. I understand numbers. I understand budgets. And I've been saving since I was twenty."It wasn't entirely true. I had been saving since I was twenty, yes, but most of it had gone into a ring that someone had told me to get up off my knees for. I didn't say that part.She studied me for a long moment, then looked back down at the file. "The space you're interested in, it's modest. Good location, decent foot traffic once people know it's there. Risky, but not foolish.""I know it's risky.""Most first time business owners underestimate how slow the first few months will be.""I'm pr
Ayesha's POVI didn't cry until I got home.In the mall, in front of Chris, I had been steady. My voice hadn't shaken. My hands hadn't shaken. I had looked at him and told him to go away and I had meant every word of it. But the moment my apartment door clicked shut behind me, something in my chest finally gave out, and I slid down against the door and cried until my throat hurt.It wasn't even about the rejection anymore, or the dress, or Gemma's stupid video. It was about how easy it had been for him to ask "what happened yesterday" like I was the one being unreasonable. Like four years could just be folded up and put away because it was inconvenient for him.I sat there for a long time. When I finally got up, my legs were stiff and my face felt swollen. I went to the bathroom, washed it, and looked at myself in the mirror. Bony shoulders. Flat chest. The same girl who had been laughed at in a high school hallway, still standing in the same body, still waiting for someone to look at







