I still remember vividly my reply to that question he asked.
The air between us had been tight, heavy with everything we had gone through—the fear, the tests, the near-death moments that still clung to my skin like dried mud. He looked at me the way people look when they expect hesitation, when they are almost certain you'll back out.
"Do you still want to sign the contract?" Those words.
For a brief second, silence stretched. I felt my heart beat hard against my ribs, not with fear—but with certainty. Strange, steady certainty.
My reply was "YES." With full boldness.
You may think I'm mad to still be around someone who had risked my life, but I won't lie—something about him felt right.
Dangerous, yes. Unpredictable. But right.
You know when you have that strong gut feeling about a decision you want to make—how you just know it won't flop or go wrong?
That was how I felt around him. Like the universe had already made up its mind, and I was just following the script.
Or maybe I would be wrong by agreeing to sign the contract.
Then jokes on me for being stupid.
He brought out the contract, the papers rustling softly in the quiet space. I took my time reviewing it this time, my eyes scanning every line, every clause. Indeed, he had changed it. No tricks. No hidden traps. I had full access to the child after birth.
That alone was a good thing for me.
My fingers trembled just a little as I took his pen, not from fear but from the weight of what I was about to do. One signature, and my life would never be the same.
I signed it immediately. No hesitation.
His words were, "It's done."
I watched him take the contract back, his expression unreadable. As I stood up, something inside me snapped—not anger exactly, but unfinished business. I walked toward him without thinking twice and kicked him hard in the balls.
Hard.
"That's for almost killing me twice," I said as I watched him groan in pain, bending forward.
The satisfaction I got from it was instant. Joy filled my heart.
"Psychopath," I added, my voice calm as I stepped on his hands when he reached out, pinning them briefly to the ground. He groaned a bit, but I didn't care. Not even a little. I walked away.
Now the real fun begins.
We didn't go back to the hotel together.
When I got out of the woods, a black Audi appeared suddenly, smooth and silent like it had been waiting for me all along.
Men in suits rushed out, moving quickly, efficiently. One opened the door and bowed slightly.
"Good evening, Mrs. Henderson," they greeted.
"Please come with us, ma'am. The boss has assigned us to take you back to the hotel," he added.
I nodded, then turned around instinctively, hoping to see Raisem so we could leave together. The forest stood quiet behind me. It felt so empty. He was nowhere in sight.
"How about Raisem?" I asked.
The man gave me a weird look.
"I mean your boss," I added quickly.
"He won't be joining you tonight. He has some important things to do," he replied.
I nodded again and entered the car.
As the door slammed shut behind me, guilt crept in unexpectedly. I felt bad for hitting him in the balls. That must have hurt badly.
But he deserved it.
After putting me in danger two consecutive times.
Come to think of it, what type of silly tests were those? All that—just to give him a child. He's so stupid. Why should I feel bad? He deserved every single part of it.
The drive was smooth, quiet, almost soothing. When we finally arrived at the hotel, exhaustion washed over me. I went straight to the room without stopping.
I was tired, drained and stressed.
I rushed into the bathroom and turned on the shower, scrubbing hard, washing off the mud, the sweat, the fear that clung to me like a second skin.
I let the hot water run until my muscles loosened and my thoughts slowed.
I spent close to an hour in there.
When I came out, dressed and calmer, I sat by the dresser, drying my hair gently with a towel.
That was when I heard the door open—slow, calm.
I turned back, it was him.
Raisem.
We didn't say a word. He walked toward the bed, one hand holding his head, his steps heavy. He wasn't lively like before.
Something about him felt…off. He sat down, shoulders tense.
"I thought you said we are not suppose to share a bed," I said, trying to start a conversation.
No reply.
It wasn't worth pushing. I turned back to the mirror, continuing to dry my hair. But from the corner of my eye, I noticed his hands were still on his head, fingers digging into his hair like he was fighting something.
Curiosity won.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
No response. I walked closer.
"Raisem, are you okay?" I stretched my hand forward to touch his hands.
Suddenly, he grabbed my wrist so tight I thought my bones would snap.
"Ow, they hurts," I muttered.
I looked up—and froze.
The look in his eyes this time was different. Like fire, uncontrolled one. The kind that burns everything in its path. Those eyes were dangerous.
I stepped back slightly and come to think of it, we were alone. He could kill me.
I had seen that look somewhere before… but I couldn't remember where. Maybe it belonged to the memories I had lost.
"Raisem, please, you're hurting me," I whispered, forcing the words through the pain.
He let go suddenly, pushing my hand away with force. I stumbled back, almost falling.
What's wrong with him?
"Leave the room!" I heard him say.
What?
Where was I supposed to go? This was my room. If anyone should leave, it should be him.
"You should be the one to leave," I responded.
"I said leave!" he said coldly but didn't raise his voice.
I didn't move. I stood still, staring at him, my heart racing but my feet rooted to the spot.
He smirked and stood up, walking toward me, closing the gap slowly. I didn't step back.
"You should be afraid?" he said.
Maybe I was afraid of death. Or his tests.
But I was never afraid of him.
He laughed—a maniac laugh that sent chills down my spine.
"It seems I will have a problem with you being submissive," he said.
"We signed a contract and being submissive was never part. The only thing between us is the child, remember," I said boldy.
He smirked again.
"How about I teach you some submission," he whispered into my ear.
I pushed him slightly, but he grabbed my waist, his grip strong and unbreakable.
"Please leave the room," I challenged him.
"What are you going to do if I don't? Kick me in the balls again?" He rolled his eyes.
"I would love to do that again," I said with a smile. This time, it wasn't forced.
"You know that's what will lead to a child. If you destroy it...."
"Just stop!" I screamed and interrupted his words.
I knew what he meant. It was getting creepy.
"Please leave and find a room for yourself," I said gently.
"Are you challenging me?" he asked raising his brows in disbelief.
That was when it finally dawned on me.
This contract, it was going to be problematic.