The Bride He Never Wanted

Chapter 1. part 1 until 5

📌 Chapter 1: The Bride He Never Wanted

🕊️ Theme: A wedding built on silence and sacrifice.

⸻

Part 1/5 – The Dress She Didn’t Choose

The lace felt heavy against her skin.

Too white.

Too perfect.

Too… not her.

Qisya stood in front of the full-length mirror, her reflection looking more like a stranger than a bride. Her hands gripped the sides of the vanity as if letting go would make her collapse.

She hadn’t chosen the dress.

She hadn’t chosen the groom either.

The door creaked open.

Her mother stepped in, eyes already glistening with unshed tears.

“You look beautiful, sayang,” she whispered.

Qisya forced a smile. “Thanks.”

“You’re doing the right thing.”

That made her look away.

Because if this was the right thing…

Why did it feel so wrong?

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Part 2/5 – The Groom Without a Smile

Hariz stood in the prayer room, adjusting the cuffs of his baju Melayu like it mattered. The kain sampin wrapped around his waist felt too tight. Or maybe it was his chest. His breathing.

His father gave him a light pat on the shoulder.

“Today is not about love,” the older man said. “It’s about responsibility. Remember that.”

He did.

He remembered it too well.

Hariz looked out the window. Guests were arriving. A soft drizzle had begun to fall.

Even the sky didn’t celebrate today.

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Part 3/5 – The Akad That Changed Everything

The moment came like a storm held back too long.

Two witnesses.

One sigh from the Imam.

Then:

“Aku terima nikahnya Qisya Amirah binti Saifuddin dengan mas kahwin seratus ringgit tunai.”

His voice was steady.

Hers was silent.

People clapped. Smiles bloomed. Aunts cried.

But inside Hariz’s chest — there was nothing.

No joy.

No spark.

Just… numbness.

Qisya sat beside him now, her eyes lowered.

He didn’t look at her.

She didn’t look at him.

They were husband and wife.

Legally.

Publicly.

Emotionally? Not yet.

⸻

Part 4/5 – The Room They Had to Share

That night, the silence between them echoed louder than the rain outside.

The hotel suite was beautiful — too beautiful for two people who couldn’t even say “congratulations” to each other.

Qisya sat on the edge of the bed, fingers tangled together, heart racing.

Hariz stood near the window, back turned to her, blazer still on.

He finally spoke. “You can take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

She didn’t argue.

Didn’t thank him either.

“Thanks for… not making it harder than it already is,” she said after a long pause.

He glanced at her reflection in the window.

“We’re married, Qisya. But that doesn’t mean I’ll suddenly fall in love.”

She smiled — bitterly.

“I never asked you to.”

⸻

Part 5/5 – The Vow They Never Took

Much later, when Hariz was already on the couch, half-asleep, Qisya sat in the dark and whispered into the silence:

“I didn’t want this either. But I said yes… because I couldn’t watch my mother cry anymore.”

She didn’t know if he heard.

But somewhere in the quiet, he turned his head slightly.

Just enough to let her know — he wasn’t fully asleep.

📖 Chapter 2: The Morning After Becoming Strangers

☁️ Theme: Two hearts in the same room, but miles apart.

⸻

Part 1/5 – The Silence Between Sheets

The sun peeked through the sheer curtains, casting soft golden lines across the bed.

Qisya opened her eyes slowly.

For a moment, she forgot where she was.

Until she turned and saw the empty half of the bed.

Untouched.

Neatly tucked.

He hadn’t even lain beside her.

The memory of last night came back like fog — cold and heavy.

The vows.

The cold suite.

The way Hariz didn’t meet her eyes.

She sat up, her heart already tired.

This wasn’t a honeymoon.

It was survival.

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Part 2/5 – The Breakfast Without Words

She walked into the dining space of the suite to find Hariz already dressed — black slacks, crisp shirt, no tie.

He was sipping coffee.

No greeting. No smile.

Just a quiet nod.

Qisya sat down opposite him.

The breakfast tray had two croissants, a bowl of cut fruit, and a small pot of jam.

She reached for a spoon.

“So… do we go home today?” she asked softly.

Hariz didn’t look up. “My father arranged for us to stay another night.”

“Oh.”

He finally glanced at her.

“You can go home earlier if you want.”

She looked at him, trying to read his tone.

It wasn’t cold.

It was… detached. Like she was a client. A guest.

“I’ll stay,” she replied after a pause.

He nodded again. “Suit yourself.”

⸻

Part 3/5 – The Girl Behind the Smile

Later, Qisya stood on the hotel balcony, hair dancing in the breeze.

Down below, the city moved — cars, people, laughter.

She didn’t belong here.

She didn’t belong anywhere today.

She remembered her friends’ weddings — laughter, jokes, flowers, photos.

She had none of that.

Her wedding album would be filled with strangers.

Her heart, with silence.

“Are you okay?”

She turned — surprised.

Hariz stood by the sliding door.

She hadn’t heard him come in.

“I’m fine,” she said, turning back to the view.

He didn’t leave.

He stood beside her — hands in pockets, eyes on the street below.

After a long pause, he said, “I know this isn’t how it should be.”

Qisya blinked.

A confession?

“But we’re here now,” he continued. “We can either make it worse… or at least not hurt each other more than we already have.”

She nodded slowly.

Then, almost a whisper, she asked, “Can we be… kind to each other?”

He looked at her for a long second.

Then said, “I’ll try.”

⸻

Part 4/5 – The Questions She Couldn’t Ask

That evening, after dinner in the hotel restaurant — a quiet one, barely any conversation — they returned to the room.

Qisya sat at the edge of the bed, brushing her hair.

Hariz sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone.

The silence wasn’t tense.

But it wasn’t warm either.

She wanted to ask:

• Who did you love before me?

• Do you resent me?

• Are we just filling a role in someone else’s story?

But none of the words came out.

Instead, she asked, “Are you tired?”

He looked up. “A bit.”

“I’ll sleep early then.”

“Okay.”

As she got under the blanket, she whispered in her heart,

Please let this get easier.

She didn’t know if it ever would.

⸻

Part 5/5 – The Wall He Built Too High

When she was asleep, Hariz remained on the couch, arms folded behind his head.

He wasn’t scrolling anymore.

Just staring at the ceiling.

Thinking.

Qisya had been kind. Calm. Too calm.

And that made it harder.

She wasn’t the problem.

He was.

The wall he had built… wasn’t just between them.

It was around him.

And now that she was inside his life, he didn’t know how to let her in further without breaking himself open.

He turned slightly, looking toward her side of the bed.

Then closed his eyes.

And for the first time in years, he whispered into the dark,

“I wish I was someone else before I became your husband.”

📖 Chapter 3: The Name She Was Learning to Carry

🌒 Theme: Learning to exist in a marriage without a manual.

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Part 1/5 – The Name on the Door

They returned to Hariz’s apartment three days after the wedding.

It was big. Modern. Neat.

Too neat.

Not a single cushion out of place. Not a framed photo in sight. No warmth.

Qisya stood at the entrance, her small luggage by her side. Her eyes scanned the living room, the grey walls, the cold light.

This wasn’t a home.

It was a showroom.

“You can use the second room as your workspace,” Hariz said, voice flat. “Or bedroom. Whatever suits you.”

She nodded. “Thanks.”

He paused, almost unsure. Then added, “I don’t snore.”

She almost smiled.

Almost.

⸻

On the door of the second room, there was a small gold nameplate.

It read:

H. R. Iskandar.

She ran her fingers across it slowly.

Now, she was part of this name.

But it still didn’t feel like hers.

⸻

Part 2/5 – The Things She Didn’t Touch

That night, Qisya unpacked her things slowly.

Clothes. Skincare. A few books. A framed photo of her late father. A scarf her mother gave before the wedding.

She placed the photo on the desk near the window.

Then sat on the edge of the bed, listening.

The apartment was silent.

Hariz was in his room. Maybe asleep. Maybe thinking. Maybe regretting.

She didn’t know.

⸻

She walked quietly to the kitchen, poured a glass of water.

The fridge was too full — labeled containers, arranged by date. Hariz clearly had a system.

She didn’t want to ruin it.

So she poured just enough and tiptoed back.

Her reflection in the hallway mirror startled her.

She was wearing a soft cotton T-shirt and pajama pants. Her hair tied up loosely. No makeup.

No trace of a bride.

Only a girl trying to fit into someone else’s world.

⸻

Part 3/5 – The Call That Came Too Soon

The next morning, her mother called.

“How’s Hariz treating you, sayang?”

Qisya hesitated. “He’s… polite.”

“Polite? That doesn’t sound warm.”

Qisya forced a laugh. “He’s fine, Ma. Just… he’s quiet.”

“You’ve always liked quiet boys.”

“Yes. But this quiet feels… lonely.”

Her mother paused. “Give it time. Some men love after the walls are down.”

“Do you think he’ll ever love me?”

Another pause.

Then gently: “Do you love him?”

Qisya looked around the room.

She didn’t answer.

⸻

Part 4/5 – The Glimpse He Didn’t Expect

That evening, Hariz came home from work later than usual.

Qisya had cooked something simple. Just enough for two.

The scent of stir-fried chicken and steamed rice filled the kitchen.

He looked surprised.

“You cooked?”

She nodded. “Just trying not to starve.”

His lips tugged. Almost a smile. Almost.

They ate in near silence.

Then — out of nowhere — he said, “Thank you.”

She blinked. “For?”

“For… being here. Even when I’m hard to be with.”

That caught her off guard.

“You’re not hard to be with, Hariz. Just… unreadable.”

He didn’t reply.

But his eyes softened — just a little.

⸻

Later that night, he walked past her room.

She had left the door slightly ajar.

Inside, he saw her asleep, curled on the edge of the bed, hugging her scarf.

Something in him cracked.

She looked small.

Like someone trying hard not to be a burden.

And he wondered — had he made her feel that way?

⸻

Part 5/5 – The Message He Almost Sent

At 2 a.m., Hariz sat at his desk, staring at his phone.

His fingers typed.

I’m sorry I’ve been cold. I just don’t know how to be a husband yet.

He hovered over the “Send” button.

Then deleted it.

Because even his apology felt unworthy.

He leaned back, eyes closed.

Then whispered, to no one in particular:

“She deserves better.”

📖 Chapter 4: The Kindness She Didn’t Expect

☁️ Theme: Even cold hearts can offer warmth in small, quiet ways.

⸻

Part 1/5 – The Morning with Two Mugs

The next morning, Qisya woke up earlier than usual.

She walked into the kitchen and stopped mid-step.

Two mugs were already on the table. One had steam rising from it. The other was still empty.

A packet of her favourite 3-in-1 coffee sat beside it.

Hariz wasn’t there.

But he had left a note.

“Add hot water. I don’t know how sweet you like it.” – H

She stared at the scribbled writing.

It wasn’t romantic.

It wasn’t poetic.

But it was the first time he acknowledged her routine — her mornings.

And in that moment, it meant more than roses.

⸻

Part 2/5 – The Glove Box Memory

Later that afternoon, she found herself in Hariz’s car. He was driving her to a clinic — she had a slight flu, nothing serious.

The silence was comfortable, not awkward.

When he stopped at a red light, she reached into the glove box, looking for tissues.

Instead, she found a photograph.

It was worn, old, and hidden beneath car manuals.

Two people. A boy and a girl. Smiling.

She recognised Hariz instantly.

But the girl — she was beautiful, and unfamiliar.

Qisya didn’t ask.

She closed the glove box slowly, heart suddenly a little heavier.

⸻

That night, she sat by the window in her room.

Rain was falling again.

Soft, steady.

Her thoughts were louder.

Who was she? The girl in the photo?

Did you love her more than you’ll ever try to love me?

But she kept the questions to herself.

Because some walls… weren’t hers to break.

⸻

Part 3/5 – The Wound He Didn’t Hide

Days passed.

They became routine.

Silent dinners. Shared spaces. Occasional words.

Then one night, she found him in the kitchen — his sleeve rolled up, running cold water on a fresh burn.

Without thinking, she rushed over.

“Let me help.”

He didn’t stop her.

She gently pulled his hand under the flow, checking the redness.

“Clumsy,” she whispered.

“I was distracted,” he replied, softly.

Their eyes met.

There was something there.

Pain, maybe. Regret.

“Do you want ice?”

He nodded.

She wrapped his wrist with a cold pack and a towel, fingers brushing his skin.

His breath caught.

So did hers.

⸻

Part 4/5 – The Question She Finally Asked

They sat on the floor near the kitchen, his hand resting in her lap with the cold towel.

The silence was warm this time.

“Can I ask you something?” she said, not looking at him.

“Hmm?”

“The girl in the photo. In your car. Who was she?”

Hariz didn’t flinch.

But his jaw tightened.

“She was… someone I almost married.”

Almost.

That word hurt more than she expected.

Qisya nodded slowly.

“Do you still love her?”

Silence.

Then: “No.”

“But you did?”

He looked at her now.

“Yes.”

And somehow… that honesty hurt less than a lie would’ve.

⸻

Part 5/5 – The Beginning of Something

Before they left the kitchen that night, Hariz stood and offered his unburnt hand to her.

Qisya hesitated — then took it.

Their fingers touched.

Held.

Even just for a moment.

It wasn’t love.

Not yet.

But it was something.

📖 Chapter 5: The Emotion He Refused to Name

🌙 Theme: Sometimes love looks like fear.

⸻

Part 1/5 – The Unfinished Note

Qisya found the notebook on the coffee table.

It wasn’t hers.

Black leather cover. No title. Pages slightly worn.

She opened it gently.

Words were scribbled inside. Some were lists, some dates. But what caught her eye was a short paragraph—half-written.

“If I had met you first—before the weight of expectations, before the walls—I wonder if I would’ve loved you like the man I never allowed myself to be.”

She didn’t need a name to know.

It was his handwriting.

And those words weren’t meant to be found.

⸻

She closed the book softly and placed it back.

But the words stayed with her, echoing louder than they should.

If I had met you first…

Did he mean her?

Or someone else?

⸻

Part 2/5 – The Dinner That Felt Different

That night, they had dinner together — again.

This time, Hariz brought food home.

He didn’t say much. Just placed two takeout boxes on the table.

“I didn’t know what you liked, so I got both.”

Qisya smiled faintly. “Thanks.”

They ate in silence — but the silence wasn’t cold. Just quiet.

Halfway through, Hariz said, “You’re easy to sit with.”

She looked up. “That’s a compliment?”

A small smirk tugged at his lips. “For me, yes.”

Qisya blinked. Then laughed — for real.

It wasn’t loud. But it was the first laughter that didn’t feel forced since the wedding.

Hariz looked at her longer than he meant to.

And something in him… shifted.

⸻

Part 3/5 – The Door He Left Open

Late at night, rain tapped against the windows.

Qisya couldn’t sleep.

She walked softly toward the living room to get water — and saw a light still on.

Hariz’s room.

The door was ajar.

She hesitated… then knocked softly.

He looked up from his desk.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

She nodded. “You too?”

He shrugged. “Too much noise in my head.”

She smiled lightly. “Mine’s in my heart.”

He didn’t answer.

But he stood up and gestured toward the couch. “Want to talk?”

She nodded — surprised at herself.

They sat.

No deep conversation. Just shared silence.

But he didn’t close the door.

And that, to her, meant everything.

⸻

Part 4/5 – The Dream She Didn’t Want to Wake From

They fell asleep on the couch.

Not touching. Just near.

At some point, Qisya’s head leaned onto Hariz’s shoulder — too tired to resist the pull of gravity.

When he woke up briefly at 4am and saw her there — peaceful, warm, close — something broke inside him.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t pull away.

Instead, he reached slowly and adjusted the throw blanket over her shoulder.

His fingers brushed her cheek.

And in that moment — something dangerous bloomed in his chest.

Not desire.

Not duty.

But fear.

Fear that if she stayed too long, she’d find the real him.

And maybe she’d leave.

⸻

Part 5/5 – The Storm Outside, The Storm Within

The next morning, she was gone from the couch.

Already in the kitchen, making toast, like nothing happened.

And maybe that was for the best.

Hariz watched her from the hallway, unseen.

Qisya was humming softly. Tired, but calm.

There was no trace of last night on her face.

But he remembered every breath.

Every warmth.

And now, the notebook on his table stared at him like a ghost.

He opened it.

And under the words she might’ve seen, he wrote:

“If I had met you first…

I’d still be terrified of losing you.”