MARRIED AT EIGHTEEN

The Contract Wife

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The next morning, Zainab woke up to find a document on her bedside table—a contract.

She scanned it quickly.

No interference in his business. No emotional involvement. No pregnancy. Separate rooms.

At the end, a signature line:

Yusuf Ibrahim – already signed.

She felt her hands shake as she picked up the pen.

Was this all her life would be? A signed deal?

With a heavy heart, she signed it.

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Later that day, she was dressed by maids and taken to a charity event. Paparazzi swarmed them the moment they stepped out of the car. Yusuf took her hand, smiled like a perfect husband, and whispered:

“Smile. This is your role now.”

Zainab played along—smiled, waved, answered questions. Everyone called them the perfect couple.

But behind closed doors, Yusuf barely looked at her.

One night, she overheard a phone call—Yusuf speaking softly in his office.

> "I married her to protect the family name, nothing more."

Zainab’s chest tightened. She backed away quietly before she could hear more.

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At breakfast the next morning, she stared at her untouched food.

“You should eat,” Yusuf said casually, reading a newspaper.

“Why? So I look good for the cameras?” she shot back.

He looked up, surprised at her tone.

"You're smarter than I thought," he said.

She stared back, her voice steady.

“You have no idea who I really am.”

That was the first time Yusuf looked at her with curiosity instead of indifference.

And it wouldn’t be the last.

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