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Zayd's pov── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

I roared down the empty midnight streets, the rumble of my bike echoing through the silent night. Clad in my helmet, gloves, and leather jacket, I felt invincible, as if I could escape everything—every worry, every thought—if only for a few hours. My bike was my sanctuary, my escape from the chaos of everyday life. But tonight, my mind was far from peaceful.

Rida's face, her voice, her laugh—they consumed my thoughts. I had refused to marry another girl for her, but did she even feel the same? I scoffed at the idea. Of course not. She gets annoyed by me. She's beautiful, intelligent, independent. She could have any guy she wanted, someone far better than me.

A smirk tugged at my lips. But do I care? No. I'm that better guy for her. With a surge of confidence, I revved my engine and sped down the street, the wind whipping past me, a temporary distraction from my turbulent thoughts.

Suddenly, a blur of motion caught my eye. Another biker zipped past me, leaving me behind. My pride bristled. "Oh honey, challenging Zayd Reza, huh? That was quite a move!" I muttered, my competitive spirit ignited. With a smirk, I twisted the throttle, my bike roaring to life as I surged forward, quickly overtaking the random biker.

As I sped past him, I glanced back, shouting, "First, learn how to race, buddy!" I chuckled, the thrill of the moment momentarily lifting my spirits.

_____

The next day, apprehension settled in my stomach like a heavy stone. I was going to one of the most expensive restaurants in town with my parents to meet the girl they had fixed my marriage with. The thought filled me with dread. I didn't want to be here. My mind was still entangled with thoughts of Rida, and the idea of meeting another girl felt wrong, as if I was betraying my own feelings.

As we arrived at the restaurant and walked inside, I kept my eyes downcast, following my parents like a little kid. I wasn't in the mood to look at anyone or engage in small talk. The sound of my parents greeting the girl's family barely registered in my mind.

"Assalamu alaikum," a familiar voice said, jolting me out of my thoughts. My heart skipped a beat. I had heard this voice before.

"Walaikum Assalam, Rida beta, you look so pretty today," my mom's voice responded warmly.

My head snapped up, disbelief washing over me. Standing there, looking as stunning as ever, was Rida. The world seemed to blur, everyone else fading away until it was just her and me. I wanted someone to pinch me, to confirm that I wasn't dreaming.

"Please, sit down and get comfortable," Rida's dad said, breaking the spell.

As we took our seats, I found myself seated directly across from Rida. Her presence was overwhelming, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from her. She glanced at me occasionally, her eyes flashing with a mix of emotions that I couldn't quite decipher. Beside her sat Nida and her parents, while my parents flanked me on either side.