***
{Inside The Projection}
Malik stood before his bed, seemingly frozen.
Though it wasn't the bed that made him pause, it was the person sitting on it.
On the dark velvet sheets, framed by the dim glow of the oil lamps, sat Layla.
The new addition to his life, the new title.
The new… responsibility.
She didn't move when he stepped inside. She too was still, perched at the edge, hands folded neatly in her lap, posture far too composed for someone in a bedroom that wasn't her own.
Her dress was simpler now, one sheet of white fabric falling down to her ankles.
Her hair was tied back, and yet a few strands had escaped, swaying faintly when the night breeze slipped through the open balcony doors.
Layla stared at him.
And surprisingly, it wasn't in open hatred or any modicum of warmth; she stared as if she were still trying to decide whether to go ahead with this or not.
...They hadn't talked.
Two sentences. That was all they'd exchanged since they first met.
