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Aisha's life takes a whirlwind turn when her pictures with Aaraiz, a dominant yet deeply protective man, are leaked. Forced into a marriage she never wanted, Aisha's playful innocence clashes with Aaraiz's strict and comm...
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Aisha sat on the edge of the bed, her arms wrapped around herself, her mind distant. The events of the previous day still echoed in her head—Max's words, the truth about Aaraiz, the slap she had given him. Her heart was heavy with confusion, anger, and hurt.
There was a soft knock on the door before the maid entered quietly. "Madam, it's time for breakfast," she said gently, her voice laced with hesitation. She knew Aisha had been through a lot and was trying her best not to disturb her too much.
"I'm not hungry," Aisha replied, her voice flat, eyes still focused on the floor.
The maid shifted uncomfortably. "But sir is waiting for you at the dining table."
Aisha clenched her fists. "I said I'm not hungry!!"
The maid knew better than to push Aisha, but it was clear that Aaraiz had sent her with orders. After a beat of silence, she gave a slight nod and left the room. Aisha continued to sit there, her mind swimming in thoughts she didn't want to confront. Just when she thought she could find some solitude, the door opened again, but this time it wasn't the maid.
Aaraiz entered the room, his presence commanding and heavy. Aisha could feel him there without even looking in his direction. A few maids entered behind him, quietly setting up breakfast on a table near the window.
Aaraiz stood there, his gaze fixed on Aisha, but she didn't once meet his eyes. She refused to acknowledge him, her resolve hardening with every second that passed. Finally, when everything was set, the maids scurried out, leaving them alone in the room.
"Aisha, You need to eat."
She remained silent, her back turned to him as she sat on the bed, staring out of the window.
"Aisha, look at me." He walked closer, his eyes pleading silently for her attention. But she still didn't move.
"I'm not hungry," she finally said, her voice cold and distant, as if speaking to a stranger.
"Neither am I, then," he said flatly, his eyes never leaving her, challenging her silence.
Aisha's heart pounded, but she didn't turn around, didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing the conflict raging inside her. Neither was willing to give in, and yet neither wanted to leave the other. The tension between them felt insurmountable, but beneath it all, there was still that thread of connection—fragile, but not yet broken.
The smell of fresh bread and fruit wafted through the air, a reminder that she hadn't eaten since the previous night. Her stomach churned in hunger, but she didn't want to give in, didn't want to acknowledge the small act of care that Aaraiz was extending.
"Aisha, you need to eat. I won't ask you again."
Without meeting his gaze, she stood up slowly, her movements stiff and reluctant. She walked over to the table, every step feeling like a defeat.
