Chapter Twenty-seven

My days had turned into a monotonous routine: sleep, eat, shower, stare blankly at the garden, and then sleep again. For two weeks the tedium was getting worse.

Desperate for a distraction, I considered seeking out Nanny Miriam to learn some new cooking recipes.

But Zayn had firmly vetoed that idea, his disapproval still echoing in my mind. "You'll only make a mess," he'd said, his tone leaving no room for argument. The memory of his words stung, and I felt a surge of frustration run through my veins.

As I gazed at the clock on the wall, I let out a deep sigh for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

The hands seemed to be moving at a glacial pace, taunting me with the long hours still to pass before Zayn's return. A soft hiss escaped my lips, a quiet expression of my growing discontent.

With a restless sigh, I settled in for the long wait, my mind racing with thoughts of Zayn.

He totally forbade me from raising any kitchen utensils. Forbade me from visiting Josh and my mother