Page 99 of Hired Husband

Despite the flurry of activity all around me, I felt strangely isolated as I cracked open the bottle and brought it to my lips. It had been like this ever since my mom had arrived in Sharm El-Sheikh to give me the news I’d known was coming.

That didn’t make it feel any less like I was suddenly moving through life in a haze, though. These days, it felt like there was some kind of invisible barrier between me and the world, like I was a ghost who could interact with things but couldn’t quite exist in the same space as anyone else.

“Jasmine, touch-ups,” Sasha called, and I drifted to my seat at the vanity, lowering myself into it without saying a word. Her features pinched with worry as she looked down at me, but she didn’t ask, simply handing over my phone. “It’s been buzzing. I thought you might want to check it.”

I nodded, accepting the device and unlocking it to find a string of messages waiting from my brother.

Rami: Joseph just called. Isaac signed the contract.

Rami: It’s official. Dad just received a copy. It looks like we’re good to go.

Rami: Somebody’s getting married!

The next few messages were only emojis, party faces, and grins. I smiled and locked the phone again, handing it back to Sasha. It had been nice of him to let me know, but as relieved as I was, I wouldn’t be celebrating with them.

I exhaled a shaky breath and dragged in another. My eyes slid shut as I tried to process that I’d done it. Whatever happened to me, at least Isaac and Joseph had what they’d worked so hard for. The project was theirs. Isaac would finally be able to start over under his own steam, building a career I already knew was going to be magnificent. And the same was true for Joseph. Zara’s family might even consider him for her now, which was awesome.

It also hurt a lot more than I’d expected, but I couldn’t afford to dwell on that. I’d made my choices and everything was proceeding exactly the way it was supposed to. David had held up his end of the bargain, Isaac had finally accepted my decision, and everyone was going to be happy.

Everyone except me.

For the rest of the shoot, I felt even more like I was floating inside a bubble of despair, but I did my part, ensuring the photographers got the shots they needed for whatever we were shooting today. I honestly didn’t even know.

This afternoon, I had a dress fitting for the first round of engagement stuff, and now that Isaac had signed, the only thing left for me to do was show up and look pretty. I could stop worrying about him. At least, I could try.

Once we were done for the day, I put my own clothes back on and left the studio without saying goodbye to anyone.

Mom had offered to come with me today, and as I walked into the bridal atelier occupying the entire top of floor of one of Cairo’s oldest buildings, I sort of wished I’d taken her up on her offer. My flats moved soundlessly across the marble floors. Bolts of silk lined the walls and seamstresses beamed as soon as they saw me. One approached, sweeping a hand toward an elegant, curtained sitting area at the back.

“Right this way, Miss Saad,” she said happily. “Welcome. We’re very excited you chose us for this most auspicious occasion.”

I nodded, but tears were suddenly stinging the backs of my eyes. Despite that, I followed her to a fitting room and stepped onto a raised little platform. Over the years, I’d worn dozens of couture gowns, and usually, I enjoyed every second of the process. This time, as layers and layers of silk were wrapped around me, it felt so wrong that I sniffled my way through the fitting. One of the seamstresses knelt to pin the hem while another adjusted the sleeves, murmuring about beadwork.

A few times, they stopped to ask for my opinion, but I just shrugged, barely even aware of what I looked like right now. Instead, I kept wondering why Isaac had taken so long to sign and whether he’d hesitated after he’d picked up the pen. I also wondered how much he’d hated me as he’d done it.

“Miss Saad?” one of the seamstresses said gently. “Are you okay?”

I blinked myself out of my thoughts and faked a smile. “Yes, of course. I’m fine.”

She glanced down at my arm and I realized then that I’d been gripping the fabric so tightly that my knuckles had turned white. My cheeks flushed as I slowly let go and cleared my throat. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”

“No apology necessary.” She smiled kindly. “Would you like to take a break?”

“No,” I said quickly. “Let’s just get this over with.”

If I stopped now, I was liable to start running, and once I started, I was afraid I would keep going, disappearing to someplace no one would ever find me. Thankfully, the women nodded and kept working, silently pinning the dress while I kept sniffling and trying to bite back tears.

Eventually, one of them rose and discreetly handed me a handkerchief. I accepted it gratefully, dabbing at my eyes when I realized the tears were coming anyway, despite how hard I was trying to hold them back.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “I’m sorry about this. The dress is lovely.”

She lowered her voice. “You know, there are ways of getting rid of a husband you don’t like.”

My eyebrows shot up and she looked back at me with the most perfectly innocent expression on her face. I burst out laughing and gave the woman a quick hug. “You are a sweetheart, but I probably won’t poison anyone. Mostly because prison food is probably terrible.”

She smiled and patted my hand. “That’s probably a sensible choice.”

Another reluctant laugh escaped me, but I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut in an attempt to stem the flow of tears welling in them. This was ridiculous.