The cold beginning

The car ride was silent. Outside, the city lights flickered past, but inside, the air was thick with unspoken words.

Ayan's fingers tapped impatiently against the car door, his mind racing. How was he supposed to explain this to Riya? She would never forgive him. She would call him a liar, a coward. And worst of all-she would be right.

His phone buzzed. He didn't even need to check the screen. It was her. Riya.

Riya: What the hell is going on, Ayan? Call me. NOW.

Ayan's jaw clenched. His life was falling apart, and the woman sitting beside him was the reason. 

He turned his head slightly, watching Ayat from the corner of his eye. She sat still, hands folded in her lap, her delicate fingers twisting in nervous circles. Unlike him, she wasn't fighting this. Unlike him, she wasn't panicking.

The car stopped in front of the mansion, and without a word, Ayan stepped out. Ayat followed hesitantly, her gaze flickering over the massive gates that now caged her in a life she never chose.

The moment the doors shut behind them, Ayan turned sharply, his dark eyes cold and piercing.

"Listen carefully, Ayat." His voice was smooth, but there was venom in his words.

"You're here because of my uncle. But don't make the mistake of thinking you're my wife."

Ayat flinched, her breath catching in her throat.

"You mean nothing to me."

She lowered her gaze, biting the inside of her cheek. She had expected this, but hearing it still hurt.

Ayan raked a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "I'll stay out of your way. You stay out of mine." He stepped closer, his voice dropping lower. "And don't you dare think of falling in love with me."

Ayat swallowed hard.

Not because of his words, but because deep down, she already knew-loving Ayan Ahmed was never an option."*

*Scene: A Room Filled with Silence and Resentment* 

(Setting: Ayan's bedroom—spacious, luxurious, yet cold. The dim golden light from the bedside lamp casts long shadows on the walls. The room smells of expensive cologne and unfamiliarity. Ayat stands near the door, her fingers gripping the edge of her dupatta, while Ayan, dressed in a crisp white shirt, stands near the window, staring outside.) 

(The silence between them is heavy, filled with unspoken words and unhealed wounds.) 

*Ayan (without turning around, voice low but sharp):* "Don't stand there like a guest, Ayat. This is your house now… isn't it?" 

(Ayat lowers her gaze, stepping inside hesitantly. The door clicks shut behind her, but she feels anything but safe.) 

*Ayan (finally turning, leaning against the window frame, arms crossed):* "Strange, isn't it? Just a few days ago, you had the chance to stop this. But you didn't." 

*Ayat (softly, almost pleading):* "Ayan, I—" 

*Ayan (cutting her off, his voice laced with sarcasm):* "You what? You couldn't refuse? You didn't have a choice? Family pressure?" (He chuckles coldly, shaking his head.) "You really expect me to believe that?" 

(Ayat clenches her hands into fists, struggling to hold back the lump forming in her throat.) 

*Ayat (whispering):* "It's the truth." 

*Ayan (stepping closer, his voice dangerously calm):* "Truth?" (He lets out a short, humorless laugh.) "Let me remind you of the truth, Ayat. I called you to the coffee shop before the wedding. I told you to refuse. I warned you not to step into this marriage. But you didn't listen. You still said yes." 

(Ayat looks up at him, her eyes glistening, her voice barely above a whisper.) 

*Ayat:* "I wanted to say no… but I couldn't." 

*Ayan (narrowing his eyes):* "Couldn't? Or wouldn't? There's a difference, Ayat." 

(She swallows hard, struggling to find the words, but he doesn't give her a chance.) 

*Ayan (mocking):* "Maybe marrying 'Ayan khan' wasn't such a bad deal after all, hmm? A rich, powerful husband… a life of luxury… your family finally free of debt. It all worked out perfectly for you, didn't it?" 

*Ayat (shocked, her voice breaking):* "How can you say that? You think I—" 

*Ayan (leaning in, voice cold):* "I think you knew exactly what you were doing." (He takes a step back, exhaling harshly.) "My uncle did a lot for your family. A little loyalty was expected, right? And what better way to repay him than by becoming his nephew's wife?" 

(Tears well up in Ayat's eyes, but she refuses to let them fall. She turns away, trying to compose herself. The air between them is suffocating.) 

*Ayan (mocking, with a smirk):* "Tell me, Ayat… if I weren't Ayan khan, if I was just an ordinary man, would you still be here? Would you still be my wife?" 

(The room falls silent. Ayat's hands tremble. She wants to scream that she never wanted this, that she wasn't after his money or fame, but deep down, a small voice whispers—would things have been different if Ayan wasn't who he was?) 

(Ayan watches her hesitate, and the answer is clear.) 

*Ayan (scoffing, stepping back):* "That's what I thought." 

(Without another word, he turns and walks to the other side of the room. Ayat stands frozen, the weight of his accusations pressing down on her chest. She wipes her eyes quickly, taking slow steps towards the couch in the corner. She knows one thing for certain—she may be his wife, but tonight, and maybe forever, she is nothing more than a stranger in his house.) 

(The night stretches long, filled with silence, regret, and two broken souls too proud to admit their pain.) 

--- 

Ayat lies on the couch, staring at the ceiling, her mind heavy with Ayan's bitter words. Sleep feels impossible.)

(A sudden knock on the door breaks the stillness.)

Servant (hesitant): "Sir… Miss Riya is here."

(Ayat's heart skips a beat. Ayat grips the blanket tighter. Who was she?

to be continue....