Zacky stared at Qiara through narrowed, piercing eyes. The atmosphere between them grew increasingly tense, squeezed between the café’s silence and the roar of vehicles outside.
"Conditions?" Zacky repeated in his deep, cold baritone. He folded his arms on the table, looking at the girl across from him without the slightest hesitation.
"Tell me. What conditions could possibly make you change your mind so suddenly?"
Qiara exhaled softly. The dullness in her eyes had been replaced by a cold, determined stare. She straightened in her seat and looked directly into the black eyes of her former brother-in-law.
"First, I don't want you to touch me, not in any way," Qiara said firmly, without a hint of hesitation in her voice.
"I'm marrying you only because I'm being forced to. I don't have any feelings for you, and I don't want to pretend we're a married couple in love."
Zacky remained completely silent, showing no surprise whatsoever. His stern face stayed as unmoving as an ice sculpture.
"And?"
"Second, once we're married and living under the same roof, we have to sleep in separate rooms," Qiara continued without looking away.
"You have your own space, and I'll have mine. Never interfere in my personal affairs, and I won't interfere in yours."
Silence hung between them for several seconds.
Suddenly, the corner of Zacky’s mouth lifted. He leaned back against his chair, then let out a flat, bitter laugh that sounded deeply mocking to Qiara.
"Heh..."
Zacky slowly shook his head, looking at Qiara as though the conditions she had just stated were nothing more than a child’s joke.
"Do you think I'm desperate to touch you, Qiara? Do you think I'd be willing to sleep in the same bed as my late wife’s younger sister?"
Qiara’s chest rose and fell as she held back the turmoil of her emotions, but she fought hard to maintain her blank expression.
"Good. At least you know your place. So, do you agree?"
Zacky leaned forward again, closing the distance across the table. His gaze locked onto Qiara’s face, which was clearly pretending to be strong.
"I agree," Zacky cut in shortly, without a second thought.
"Your conditions are easy enough. Besides, I’m agreeing to this marriage solely to carry out Laras’s final wish, not to seek any personal pleasure with you."
Qiara breathed a silent sigh of relief, though a faint sting pierced her chest when she heard the contemptuous tone in Zacky’s voice.
"Good, then. I’ll draw up the agreement before the wedding day," Qiara replied as she reached for the small bag on the table and stood up.
"I’m holding you to your word."
Qiara turned and walked out of the café without saying another word.
Zacky watched the girl’s back until she disappeared behind the glass door. He slowly rubbed his chin, then took the phone from his pocket and dialed a number.
"Hello, Mr. Zacky?" his secretary’s voice came through the phone.
"Reschedule today’s meeting," Zacky ordered coldly.
"Yes, sir. Anything else?"
Zacky looked at the half-full cup of coffee Qiara had left on the table. The light in his eyes suddenly dimmed, concealing a dark secret.
"Qiara has changed her mind. Prepare everything starting now. The engagement gifts, the dowry, everything—make sure nothing is missing. I want Laras to be happy when she sees that her younger sister has everything she needs," Aksa ordered his secretary.
"Yes, sir."