The day began quietly, deceptively ordinary, as if the world had not shifted overnight in ways that only Zara and Adrian could feel. The sun hung high but gentle in the sky, streaming through the large windows of the Blackwood estate, illuminating the house in soft gold. Yet, for Zara, nothing felt ordinary. Every glance, every brush of air against her skin, every sound seemed amplified, as though her senses were attuned to the smallest vibrations of a world that now included Adrian in ways it hadn't before.
Breakfast was subdued. Plates clinked against the table, the faint aroma of fresh coffee mingling with the scent of baked bread. Both of them moved through the motions of a typical morning, discussing schedules, emails, and the board meeting slated for the afternoon. But beneath the veneer of normalcy, the tension simmered like a current, invisible yet undeniable.
Zara kept her hands folded on her lap, glancing at Adrian occasionally. Each time he caught her gaze, there was a flicker in his eyes—recognition, longing, hesitation—all mixed together. She quickly looked away, pretending to examine the pattern of the tablecloth, but her chest still fluttered with anticipation and anxiety.
Adrian, for his part, kept his voice measured, polite, almost professional, but there was a subtle softness, a faint tremor in his tone that betrayed the intimacy of the night before. Every carefully chosen word carried an unspoken question, a silent acknowledgment of what had changed between them.
After breakfast, they moved to their respective tasks for the morning. Zara retreated to her study to review reports and proposals for the upcoming board meeting, while Adrian disappeared into his office, ostensibly to handle logistics and emails. But the distance between them felt charged, almost unbearable. Each time Zara raised her head, she half-expected to see him watching her, waiting, as if he, too, was struggling with the newfound proximity and the boundaries they had yet to navigate.
Her thoughts wandered despite the papers in front of her. She remembered the way his lips had pressed against hers, the warmth of his hand on her back, the intensity of the kiss that had left her heart racing and her mind spinning. And now, faced with the mundanity of paperwork and schedules, she realized something that made her stomach twist: pretending nothing had changed was already becoming impossible.
Adrian emerged from his office mid-morning, carrying a folder and a cup of coffee. The scent of the coffee seemed to drift closer to her than it should have, making her pulse quicken. He paused at the doorway, watching her for a moment, as if considering whether to speak or retreat.
"Zara," he said finally, voice low, almost hesitant. "Do you… need anything before the meeting? Or… are you ready?"
Zara swallowed, trying to steady her racing thoughts. "I'm… I think I'm ready," she replied, her voice quieter than she intended. She avoided meeting his eyes, but she felt them on her, warm, steady, and intense.
He nodded slowly, stepping into the room, though he kept a deliberate distance. "I know this isn't easy," he said, lowering his voice further. "Pretending, I mean… pretending nothing has changed between us. I can feel it too. And… I hate it."
Her chest tightened at his words. She glanced at him briefly, catching the hint of frustration and longing in his eyes. "I hate it too," she admitted softly. "Every glance, every brush of hands… it's… impossible to ignore."
He stepped closer, reducing the distance between them by just a few inches, careful, deliberate. "I don't want to ignore it," he murmured. "I don't want to pretend. Not anymore."
Zara's fingers curled at her sides. "Neither do I," she whispered. Her voice trembled slightly, betraying the intensity of her feelings despite her attempts at composure.
The clock ticked quietly in the corner, but neither moved. Words hung between them, heavy, charged, full of the weight of everything unspoken. Each knew that the rest of the house could intrude at any moment, that their professional responsibilities demanded a facade of normalcy, yet the tension between them made pretending increasingly impossible.
Adrian reached out, his hand hovering near hers. The simple gesture was enough to make her heart race, her stomach twist, and her pulse drum erratically. She knew she should pull back, maintain propriety, but the magnetism between them was too strong. She let her hand rest lightly near his, a silent acknowledgment of the shared struggle they were in.
Minutes passed like hours. They spoke sparingly, each word carefully chosen, each glance deliberate. But the air between them was thick with unspoken desire, with the memory of last night's kiss, with the possibility of what could happen if either allowed themselves to succumb to impulse.
By late morning, the inevitability of the upcoming board meeting forced them to leave the study. As they walked down the hallway together, side by side, the proximity was almost unbearable. Every step, every brush of shoulders, every faint scent of him made Zara's thoughts scatter. She kept her expression neutral, professional, yet every instinct screamed at her to reach out, to hold his hand, to close the gap between them in a way they both secretly longed for.
Adrian walked beside her with equal restraint. His posture was perfect, composed, but his eyes betrayed the same turmoil that churned inside Zara. Every time he glanced at her, there was a flicker of emotion—desire, fear, longing—all tightly controlled, but undeniably present.
They arrived at the boardroom, the formal setting demanding the pretense of professionalism. Colleagues were present, unaware of the charged atmosphere that clung to Zara and Adrian like a second skin. They exchanged pleasantries, discussed agendas, and presented reports with the practiced ease of people who had done this countless times. But beneath the polite smiles and polished language, every subtle glance, every accidental brush of hands, every shared moment of silent acknowledgment was magnified. Pretending nothing had changed was becoming harder with every second.
During a discussion about quarterly projections, Adrian reached across the table to point at a chart. His hand brushed hers briefly, and Zara felt a shiver run through her. Her mind went blank for a heartbeat, the boardroom fading into the background, leaving only him, only the sensation of contact that was far too electrifying to be casual. She pulled her hand back subtly, heart racing, and caught his gaze. He raised an eyebrow, the faintest smile tugging at his lips, and she felt both flustered and exhilarated.
After the meeting, they retreated to the private office adjacent to the boardroom. The hallway felt empty, yet every step reverberated in Zara's mind, each glance at Adrian heavy with meaning. They could no longer pretend that nothing had changed. The kiss, the closeness, the intimacy of the night before—it lingered in every gesture, in every movement, in the spaces between words.
Zara took a seat at the desk, trying to focus on the documents before her, but her eyes kept drifting to Adrian. He leaned against the edge of the desk, arms crossed, eyes watching her with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. "We need to talk," he said softly, the words low enough to go unheard by anyone else in the office.
Zara swallowed, her heart hammering. "About… us?" she asked, barely above a whisper.
He nodded slowly, taking a careful step closer. "Pretending it's easy… pretending that nothing has changed… it's getting harder, isn't it?"
Her chest tightened. "Yes," she admitted, voice trembling slightly. "It's… impossible. Every glance, every touch… it's like a storm we're trying to ignore, but we can't."
Adrian's expression softened, and he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face with the same tenderness as the night before. "Then maybe we shouldn't pretend anymore," he murmured. "Maybe it's time we stopped hiding behind propriety and acknowledged… what's really here."
Zara's breath caught. The weight of his words, the closeness, the warmth—everything combined to make her heart ache with longing. "But… the world outside," she whispered. "The responsibilities, the expectations… everything that demands we act normal—how do we… manage that?"
He tilted his head, brushing his lips briefly against her temple. "We take it moment by moment," he said softly. "One look, one touch, one acknowledgment at a time. We don't have to shout it from the rooftops. But we also don't have to pretend it doesn't exist."
Zara closed her eyes, letting herself lean into him for just a heartbeat. "Moment by moment," she repeated, trying to convince herself, trying to ground her racing thoughts.
Adrian lowered his forehead to hers, and they stayed like that, suspended between the chaos of their feelings and the demands of the world outside. Every heartbeat, every breath, every subtle touch was a reminder that pretending was becoming impossible—and perhaps, it was no longer necessary.
✨ Pretending gets harder when desire refuses to be ignored. When intimacy lingers, when glances speak louder than words, when every moment together threatens to unravel the careful facade. Zara and Adrian were learning that some truths could no longer be contained, no matter how much they tried.
Author's Note 💙
Chapter 32 explores the delicate tension of maintaining appearances while the heart refuses to comply. Pretending gets harder when desire is undeniable, and honesty becomes both terrifying and irresistible. Thank you for staying with Zara and Adrian through every heartbeat, every hesitation, and every unspoken word. Your support keeps this story alive.
With love,
Amanda Ahamefule Ugosinachi