PROMISED TO HIM
CHAPTER 32
MAYIBUYE SMITH
I woke up to the soft hum of the air conditioner and the distant sound of the sea. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. The room was too bright, too calm, too beautiful to be real.
Then I turned — and there he was.
Roy Smith. Sleeping beside me. The same man who drove me crazy, who scared me, who protected me, who confused me more than anyone ever could.whom I don’t know if I should love or be scared of him
And he looked… peaceful.
The morning light touched his face — sharp jawline, lips slightly parted as he breathed slowly. He didn’t look like the cold, ruthless Roy everyone else knew. He looked human. Almost fragile.
I traced the lines of his arm with my finger, careful not to wake him. I wanted to memorize that version of him — the quiet one who wasn’t shouting, demanding, or controlling. Just him. Just Roy.
But then my heart started to ache a little.
Because I knew the moment he opened those eyes, he’d go back to being him — the man who hid his softness behind power and pride.
I sighed, rolling onto my back. “You should wake up,” I whispered, though I knew he wouldn’t.
He stirred anyway, his arm tightening around my waist, pulling me closer without even opening his eyes.
“Stop moving,” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep.
I smiled. “You’re awake?”
“Unfortunately,” he grunted, burying his face in my neck. “You talk too much in your sleep.”
“I don’t—” I froze. “Wait, what did I say?”
“Something about pancakes,” he murmured, smirking against my skin. “And… something about me.”
My cheeks burned. “You’re lying.”
He finally opened his eyes, sharp always looked like they could see right through me. “Am I?”
I pushed his chest lightly. “You’re impossible.”
He sat up, stretching lazily. “And you’re dramatic.”
I turned away, pretending to sulk — but inside, I was smiling. This version of us felt different. Softer. Like the war had paused, and for once, we were just two people learning each other again.
After showering, I slipped into my baggy grey sweatpants and a white T-shirt. I tied my hair into a messy bun, threw on my slides, and walked into the living room — only to stop mid-step.
He was wearing the exact same thing.
Grey sweatpants. White T-shirt. Slides.
I blinked. “Are you serious?”
He looked up from his phone, deadpan. “What?”
I pointed at him. “You copied me.”
He gave a lazy smirk. “You copied me, actually.”
“I dressed first!”
“I packed first,” he countered smoothly, standing and walking toward me.
I narrowed my eyes, crossing my arms. “We look like a couple.”
His brow lifted. “too bad we not but we married?”
My mouth opened — but no words came out. He chuckled, brushing past me to grab a bottle of water from the counter.
God, he was annoying. Beautifully annoying.
By noon, I was bored. Roy had been on the phone for hours — business calls, emails, meetings. Same as always.
I sat on the couch, eating strawberries from the tray a maid had brought, scrolling through my phone, and sighing dramatically every two minutes.
He didn’t look up once.
“Roy?” I said sweetly.
“Mhm,” he replied, typing away on his laptop.
“Do you know what day it is?”
He didn’t even blink. “Tuesday.”
I gasped loudly. “Wrong answer.”
He finally looked up, frowning. “What are you plotting?”
“It’s the first full day in Dubai,” I said with mock sadness, clutching my heart.
“And I haven’t seen a single palm tree, or camel, or mall, or anything except your emails.”
He exhaled slowly. “Mayi—”
“No, it’s fine,” I interrupted dramatically, wiping imaginary tears.
“You just brought me all the way here to sit in a house that smells like loneliness.”
He looked at me blankly, then leaned back in his chair. “You’re not serious.”
I crossed my arms. “You never take me anywhere.”
He stared at me for a moment, like he was debating between patience and surrender. I gave him the saddest face I could muster — full puppy eyes and trembling lip.
He cursed under his breath, then shut his laptop. “You’re emotionally blackmailing me.”
I gasped. “That’s such a strong word. I’m just expressing deep emotional neglect.”
He rubbed his temples. “Where do you want to go?”
My entire face lit up. “Really?!”
He sighed. “Yes, really. Get ready.”
“I am ready,” I said, gesturing to my sweats. “See? Comfortable, stylish, matching.”
He gave me a long look — part amused, part defeated. “You’re going out dressed like that?”
“Yes. Couple goals, Mr. Smith.”
He chuckled lowly, shaking his head as he grabbed his car keys. “You’re lucky I can’t say no to you right now.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said, skipping to the door.
The ride was quiet, filled with music and the hum of the air conditioner. He kept glancing at me while driving, and every time I caught him, he looked away.
I grinned. “You’re staring.”
“I’m observing,” he corrected.
“Observing what?”
“How you manage to make sweatpants look expensive.”
I laughed. “It’s called natural beauty, Roy.”
He hummed. “Must be.”
We stopped by the Dubai Marina, the water shimmering under the afternoon sun. People were everywhere — tourists taking pictures, couples holding hands, boats gliding on the water.
It felt unreal. Peaceful.
Roy held my hand as we walked, pretending not to care, but his thumb brushed against mine the whole time — small, quiet gestures that meant more than words.
We sat by the water’s edge, legs dangling over, watching the sunset paint the sky in gold and pink.
“This is nice,” I whispered.
He looked at me from the corner of his eye. “You’re impossible when you want something.”
I smiled, resting my head on his shoulder. “And yet you still give it to me.”
He exhaled, low and deep. “You’re going to be the death of me, Mayi.”
“Maybe,” I teased softly, “but at least it’ll be a beautiful one.”
He chuckled quietly, pulling me closer, and for once — there was no war, no tension, no noise. Just us, the sea, and the sound of the city breathing around us.