Page 203 of Invisible Bars
“I’m honored to finally meet you, Naji. I know about your past… although I’ve only heard of you through rumors, the media, and Imanio’s genuine concern—which, for the record, is terrifyingly rare.”
I glanced at Imanio. He set his cup down and met Saroya’s eyes.
Something wordless passed between them.
Saroya continued, slipping into full professional mode as she tapped swiftly on her tablet.
“I just wanted to give you both a quick update.”
She looked at me first, her tone even but kind.
“First, none of your tics were recorded. The phones that were filming caught your face, some of your expressions, yes—but thankfully none of your vocal outbursts. And the actual cafe security footage was conveniently lost in afirethat occurred sometime late last night—early this morning, to be exact.”
Her eyes flicked to Imanio with a hint of suspicion.
I raised a brow. “F-fire?”
“Strange coincidence. Gas leak, maybe. Shame.”
Imanio’s wicked smile and response were way too calm and nonchalant for my liking.
I eyed him dubiously.
He definitely did it.
Saroya didn’t push, but her smirk told me she wasn’t fooled either.
“Well… I suppose some things work themselves out.”
She simply adjusted her glasses and went back to scrolling.
“Anyway, the bigger takeaway is this: news has officially broken that you’re his wife. It’s mostly whispers and blogs right now, but it’s gaining too much traction. I think it’s time we confirm it.”
I stiffened slightly. My hand gripped the edge of my cup.
Saroya—obviously had taken notice—added gently, “Not for shock value or to flaunt. But to shut down these rumors before they snowball.”
“Rumors like what?” Imanio asked, his voice low—both of us already bracing for impact.
Saroya glanced between us, her brows arching in surprise and concern.
“Oh my God… have neither of you seen the comments online?”
Imanio shrugged casually. “I barely looked at them. As for her? I’m sure she hasn’t seen anything.”
He wasn’t wrong; I had intentionally steered clear of the tumultuous sea of opinions swirling around our lives.
Saroya let out a deep sigh, her eyes shifting to the tablet in her hands.
“Well,somepeople are making wild assumptions. They think she’s lying about the marriage—that it’s all staged. Others believe she’s being held hostage against her will, or that she’s mentally unstable and you’re just allowing her to cling to your last name without correcting her.”
In an instant, her serious gaze landed on me. “None of that is true. But silence speaks volumes in situations like this, and people tend to fill the void with their own narratives.”
My chest tightened painfully as I blinked slowly, trying to absorb her pointed words, but my thoughts raced ahead, almost overwhelming me.
Hostage.
Mentally unstable.
