*Chapter 12: The Shattered Truth*
Elira's heart pounded fiercely in her chest as she stood frozen in front of the phone screen. The message she had just seen felt like a blade twisting deep inside her. Zayn… had been hiding something. Someone else.
She swallowed hard, trying to force the disbelief away. *It can't be true.* But the words were clear. *"He was with someone else last night."*
For days, Elira had tried to ignore the growing distance between them—the coldness in Zayn's eyes, the short replies, the late nights away from home. But now, the truth was unavoidable.
Her hands trembled as she clutched the letter her grandmother had given her—the only thing that had kept her grounded through the darkest nights.
*"Elira,"* she whispered to herself, borrowing strength from her late grandmother's wisdom. *"You are stronger than this pain."*
A quiet sob escaped her lips, but she quickly wiped it away. She wouldn't break—not now, not ever.
Suddenly, the sound of a key turning in the door snapped her back to reality.
Zayn was home.
Elira's breath caught. Should she confront him? Ask the questions burning inside her? Or should she keep silent, protect her fragile heart a little longer?
The door opened, and Zayn stepped inside. His eyes met hers, full of hesitation and something she couldn't quite read.
"Elira…" he began, but she held up a hand.
"Don't," she said softly but firmly. "Not yet. I need time to think."
Zayn nodded, but the guilt in his eyes was unmistakable.
Elira turned away, tears finally spilling freely as the weight of betrayal crushed her spirit.
Zayn didn't follow her right away. He just stood there, in the doorway, watching her retreat into the bedroom. Elira could feel the weight of his silence pressing down on her, but she refused to turn back.
She sat on the edge of the bed, gripping the old wooden box where she kept her grandmother's letters. She hadn't opened it in weeks—not since moving into Zayn's house after the marriage. But now, her heart craved the comfort only her grandmother's words could give.
She pulled one letter out at random, the paper soft and worn from time. Unfolding it slowly, she read through the cursive script:
*"My dearest Elira,
When life begins to dim, and the path is unclear, listen to your soul. It knows what your eyes cannot see. Pain is not the end—it's the beginning of strength. Forgive, but never forget who you are."*
Her throat tightened. Her grandmother had always written as if she knew the future—as if she'd known Elira would end up exactly here: married to a man who barely looked at her, aching for love that refused to come.
She wiped her tears again and stood up, calmer than before. No more waiting. No more silence.
When she stepped out into the living room, Zayn was still there, sitting on the couch with his head in his hands.
"Tell me," Elira said, her voice steady despite the storm in her chest.
Zayn looked up, startled. "What?"
"I want to hear it from you. Don't lie. Don't protect me. Just say it."
He hesitated. Then his shoulders slumped. "I didn't mean for it to happen."
"That's not an answer," she said coldly.
Zayn stood, running a hand through his dark hair. "It was before we got married. I was still with her. I didn't break it off right away. I should have, but everything happened so fast with our families and the wedding. I—"
"Are you still seeing her?" Elira interrupted, her voice sharp.
"No," he said quickly. "I ended it."
"When?"
Zayn looked down.
*Too late,* Elira thought bitterly. "Why did you even marry me, Zayn? Was it guilt? Pity? Or was I just the easier choice for your family name?"
His jaw clenched. "It wasn't like that. I didn't hate you."
"But you didn't love me either."
Silence fell between them.
She left early, walking through the streets with no direction, letting the wind hit her cheeks. Eventually, she found herself outside her grandmother's old house—the place where she'd grown up. It was abandoned now, but she still had the key.
Inside, the house was dusty but full of memories. She sank onto the faded sofa, clutching another letter from the box she had brought with her.
Elira,
A woman's strength is quiet—it doesn't roar. It endures. But never let endurance turn into silence. Speak your truth, even if your voice trembles."*
She took a deep breath. "I need to speak."
When Elira returned later that day, Zayn was sitting in the garden, a bouquet of her favorite lilies in his lap. He stood when he saw her, hopeful.
"I thought you'd come home," he said gently.
She looked at him. "I didn't run away. I needed to breathe."
He nodded. "I know I've messed up. And I don't deserve forgiveness yet. But I'm not going to lie to you anymore."
Elira crossed her arms. "Then tell me the truth. Everything."
Zayn hesitated, then said, "I was in love with her. I thought she was the one. But when she found out I had to marry you… she didn't fight for me. She just… let me go. And it made me realize she wasn't who I thought she was."
Elira stepped back, feeling like the floor was crumbling beneath her feet. "I gave up everything to be with you. I left behind a part of myself, hoping maybe… maybe we could grow into something."
"I didn't ask you to do that," Zayn said, and the coldness in his tone shocked her.
A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "No, you didn't. And that's exactly the problem."
Zayn looked away, and for the first time, Elira realized something: he was afraid. Not of losing her—but of facing his own mistakes.
She turned toward the hallway, her voice calm but final. "Don't follow me. I need space."
"Elira—"
"Please."
He didn't speak again. And she didn't turn back.
That night, she couldn't sleep. The bed felt foreign, even colder than usual. She stared at the ceiling, her mind racing. She thought about the girl he had been with. Did she laugh more than Elira? Was she prettier? Did she make him feel something Elira never could?
The thoughts were poison, and they burned through her like fire.
The next morning, Elira woke with puffy eyes but a firmer heart. She couldn't stay in this space of doubt and heartbreak. If Zayn didn't choose her freely, she wouldn't beg to be loved.
"And what about me?" Elira asked softly.
"I didn't think I could love you. But you've been nothing but kind. Strong. Selfless. And now… I'm starting to see you. Really see you. And that scares me more than anything."
Elira blinked. "Why?"
"Because I think I might fall for you. And if I lose you, it'll hurt worse than anything I've ever known."
There was a long pause.
She stepped forward slowly. "Then don't lose me, Zayn. Prove it."
Zayn stared at her, then slowly reached for her hand. "I will."
For the first time in weeks, Elira let herself believe—just a little—that maybe, just maybe, something beautiful could rise from the ruins.