Chapter 127 The Actual Wife

• The morning sun spilled into the Kareem mansion like a silent observer, weaving golden threads across the marble floors and bathing the room in an almost sacred stillness. Yet beneath that peaceful hush, tension brewed—subtle but palpable.
• Zara sat on the cream velvet couch in the main living area, her body angled stiffly, both feet flat on the ground, hands interlocked in her lap so tightly the knuckles had turned pale. Her eyes were fixed on the window, though her mind wandered far from what the world outside had to offer. The shawl draped around her shoulders felt heavier than usual, as if it were holding the uncertainty that pulsed beneath her skin.
• Regan hovered in the background. He didn’t sit. He couldn’t. His arms remained folded across his chest, the muscles in his jaw twitching every few seconds, betraying his internal restlessness. His gaze traveled from Zara to the antique wall clock and back again. The slow tick-tock did little to soothe him.