The drive from where I was staying to Zayn's residence was about seventy kilometers.

I took a deep sigh as the driver halted in front of the compound, knowing that I was about to go and meet Zayn, whom I had sworn a few years ago not to have anything to do with for divorcing me for his fling.

I alighted from the cab and paid the driver, then turned, facing the building.

"Been a while," I muttered, referring to the house. Immediately, all the memories I had about that house hit me like a hurricane, and I tried to hold back my emotions.

Without much delay, I walked up...