As the days moved on, Maya’s pregnancy became more demanding. The once subtle signs of her changing body had now grown undeniable. Her ankles swelled, and she was often tired, a constant reminder of the life growing inside her. But Zayed was there—always hovering, always in control.

The atmosphere between them had shifted. Where once there was tension, now there was a quiet understanding that seemed to fill the spaces between them. Maya no longer felt as trapped by his control; instead, she had begun to rely on it, on him. The possessiveness that once terrified her now felt like a shield—a constant, unshakable presence that gave her the security she hadn’t realized she needed.

But the true test came one night, as Maya prepared for bed, her growing body aching from the day’s exertion. She moved slowly, trying not to disturb the peace that had settled over the villa.

Zayed entered the room, as he always did. His gaze immediately found her, and his eyes softened for a moment. But then he saw the faintest flicker of discomfort in her posture, the way she winced as she moved to sit on the bed.

“Maya,” he said, his voice suddenly filled with concern, “you need to rest.”

“I’m fine,” she replied, a little too quickly.

He wasn’t fooled. In one swift motion, Zayed was at her side, his hand on her shoulder, guiding her back to the bed with a force that left no room for argument.

“You’re not fine,” he insisted, his voice now laced with both concern and frustration. “You’re carrying my child. You need to take care of yourself.”

Maya opened her mouth to protest, but the words died in her throat. She had never seen him so… vulnerable. His usual cold detachment had melted away, replaced by something softer, something more intimate.

“Please,” he murmured, his hand brushing against her cheek. “Let me take care of you.”

For a long moment, Maya simply looked at him, seeing him not as the cold, possessive man who had controlled her every move, but as the man who was trying—perhaps in his own way—to show her that his love for her was real.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, feeling the weight of everything that had passed between them. “I didn’t mean to push you away.”

Zayed’s lips parted in a rare, soft smile. “You don’t need to apologize. But you have to understand something, Maya.” He paused, taking her hand in his. “I will always protect you. I will always care for you. You are not alone in this.”