Secrets of Us A Forbidden Love Romance (Alina) novel Chapter 43

I’m Not Answering That

The door to Zaid’s bedroom creaks as I push it open, my breath still shaky from everything I’ve just learned.

Zaid is Aiden’s brother.

Jake’s son.

The revelation crashes over me over and over again, making my heart race like I’ve been running for miles, making my stomach turn until I feel like all of my insides will spill out.

I step into his room, not knowing what to expect, not wanting to have any expectations at all. Still, when I turn from the door and face the room, I’m surprised.

I expected chaos.

I expected clothes to be thrown everywhere, maybe even a lingering smell of cologne or

sweat.

But it’s not like that at all. It’s neat, meticulously so. The bed is made, the sheets smoothed out as if they haven’t been touched in days. A small shelf on the wall catches my eye–trophies, gleaming under the dim light coming from the window alone.

Basketball, trophies mostly.

I drop my bag on the floor and step toward the shelf, squinting as I read and look at everything he has set up. I bite my lip. Zaid doesn’t seem like the sentimental kind to keep stuff like this up where he can see it everyday.

Pictures of Zaid with his team, arms slung around each other’s shoulders, all grins and

adrenaline.

My heart turns sour, twisting in my chest. I suddenly realize why Jake looked so familiar

when I first met him. Zaid looks so much like him. They smile the same way.

There are so many pictures of him in the court, some from the local newspaper with detailed articles. O

He was good at it, probably still is.

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I’m Not Answering That

There’s a letter too, unfolded, with the creases still neat and leaning against a frame.

Curiosity pulls at me and wins and I step closer, squinting my eyes to get a better look.

It’s from some big university, offering him a full–ride scholarship. My heart clenches and I

step away.

He was good. Really good, better than Aiden, even.

I peruse the shelf for longer until I see it. A framed picture on the wall, not far from the

rest. But this one isn’t of him holding a basketball or a trophy.

It’s a mugshot.

My fingers tremble as I reach out to touch the glass, the coldness of it seeping into my skin. There’s a smirk on his face, as if he found the whole thing amusing. Like it’s some

twisted joke.

My stomach turns nauseous and anger boils in my head.

A crash downstairs snaps me out of my thoughts, followed by raised voices. I know that

voice–Aiden’s. Zaid yells back, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. It’s only obvious

that they don’t like each other.

What have I gotten myself into?

I placed myself right in the middle of a family that could possibly be more broken than

I hear footsteps, heavy, purposeful, ascending the stairs and I tense, closing my eyes for a second. All I can think about is how I hope it’s not Aiden.

Guilt straddles me, but it;s given little time to take over me when the door open and Zaid steps inside, his eyes locking onto mine immediately.

He closes the door behind him, stepping inside as he tilts his head when he realizes what picture I’ve been looking at. “You like that picture, too, huh?”

I don’t even think, my voice shaking with anger. “Is this like a prize to you? A joke?”

His expression hardens, the easygoing mask he usually wears slipping away. “No, it’s not a joke.”