My Ice Cold Prince Charming

Anaya’s POV I wish I could jump out of this moving car right now. But I forgot—I’m in a wedding dress I didn’t even choose for myself. Not that I had much choice in anything today. I turned my head slightly to the man sitting beside me—my newly wedded “husband.” He hadn’t spared me a single glance since the ceremony ended. The only time our eyes met was when he said I do… and even then, it felt like fire cutting through me. I swallowed hard at the memory. The car came to an abrupt stop. Before I could fully process it, Zayaan was already out of the vehicle, slamming the door shut behind him. So much for patience. I reached for the door handle, but the dress made everything worse—layers upon layers of heavy fabric trapping me inside like I was part of it. After what felt like an eternity, I finally managed to step out. The driver didn’t even wait. The car pulled away instantly, like I hadn’t been struggling inside it seconds ago. Rude. Only then did I look up. The mansion in front of me stole my breath. Huge wasn’t even the word for it. I knew he was rich… but this? This wasn’t just wealth. This was power screaming in architecture. I stepped inside through the main door, and whatever I expected, it wasn’t this. White interiors. Gold detailing. Everything screamed expensive silence. Beautiful. Cold. Untouchable. Just like him. --- Footsteps echoed through the hallway—slow, controlled, deliberate. Then he appeared. Zayaan. Freshly changed. The wedding attire was gone, replaced with a dark tailored outfit that looked like it had never known discomfort. Not a crease. Not a wrinkle. As if even the idea of that ceremony disgusted him. He didn’t acknowledge me. Not a glance. Not a pause. He walked past me like I was furniture in the room and lowered himself onto the couch. Only then did his eyes lift. And when they did, the air changed. Cold. Heavy. Final. “Come here,” he said. Two words. Not an invitation. A command. I hesitated. His jaw tightened slightly. “I don’t repeat myself.” My feet moved before my mind did. “Stop,” he said immediately as I got closer. “Not there. Back. Keep your distance.” I froze. He leaned back slightly, studying me like I was an inconvenience he had just been handed. Then he picked up his phone. “Call all staff,” he said without looking at me. Within minutes, the mansion filled. Maids. Cooks. The head maid. The head chef. Zayaan stood. And that alone made everyone straighten. “This is not your guest,” he said calmly. A pause. “This is your new help.” My stomach dropped. Help. Not wife. Not partner. Not even a name worth using. Just… help. He continued, voice sharper now. “She will be assigned duties like every other staff member. No exceptions.” His eyes flicked briefly to the a young looking maid. “She reports to you.” Then, colder: “She lives here only because I allow it. We may have visitors. That is all.” That was it. No explanation. No emotion. Just ownership spoken out loud. My vision blurred slightly as tears gathered, but I didn’t let them fall. Not here. Not in front of him. Not in front of this version of him I didn’t recognize. --- Later, I found myself in the kitchen. It was loud in a controlled way—clinking plates, boiling pots, sharp commands. A Woman stood at the center of it all. The head chef. She looked older, strict, with the kind of presence that made everyone move faster without him raising his voice. Sbe glanced at me briefly. “You’re the new one?” I nodded. She didn’t smile. “Don’t slow anyone down,” she said simply. “Here, we don’t guess. We follow instructions.” One of the kitchen maids whispered, “She’s the boss’s—” “Don’t finish that sentence,” the chef cut in sharply. Silence. Then, to me again, slightly softer but still firm: “Tell me what you can do.” I hesitated. “I can cook.” A pause. Then she gestured toward the counter. “Then don’t stand there. Start with prep.” I wanted to do something for Zayaan, something that would make him see me less like a maid and more like his Wife. “Can I cook for him?” I asked the Head maid “What did you just say? ” she turned her head to face me, like I just fired a bullet from my mouth. “I...I said I want to cook for Zayaan” Everyone gasped like I just uttered a taboo. “Is she talking to you?” the head maid fired at the other maids and they quickly went back to what they were doing. “You want to cook for the 'BOSS'?” She asked and I nodded. “Ok then, but what ever the consequences her you are you face it yourself and I must not get in trouble” She said. every other person kept placing our way pretending to be working but I didn't care he's my husband and I want to cook for him, so I did. For the first time since I entered the house, I had something to do that didn’t feel like punishment. But even then, I could feel eyes on me. Judging. Measuring. Testing whether I belonged. --- When dinner was ready, the food was arranged and served. The maids moved in silence I followed, trying to find my place. As I followed them, I hesitated near the dining table. After dropping his food on the table they all moved back and just stood there, I was dumbstruck on what to do, should I stand with them or should I sit down? I know he said I'm a maid but I'm still his wife I'm meant to sit with him while eating right? Instinctively, I almost sat. “Stop” I froze. Zayaan hadn’t even raised his voice. He hadn’t looked at me properly either. Just that single word. Then his eyes lifted slowly. “What do you think you’re doing?” My breath caught. He leaned slightly forward. “Do you think you belong there?” Silence. The entire room froze. His voice dropped lower. “Go stand with the others.” A pause. Then the final blow: “Do you think you are better than them?” My hands trembled. I stepped back immediately. “No,” I whispered. He didn’t respond. Didn’t acknowledge it. Like I didn’t exist again. Just returned to his food. --- “Stella!” Zayaan boomed, The head chef came running. “Who made this food?” He demanded. She didn't say anything. “I asked a question ” he banged the table. “The new maid sir” His eyes immediately landed on me. He stood abruptly. “Follow me.” Outside. The sky had already turned dark. He stopped. The rain started almost immediately. Like the world agreed with his mood. “You don’t decide your place here,” he said coldly. “You are assigned. You obey.” Each word landed heavier than the last. Then he turned slightly. “Head maid.” “Yes, sir.” “Lock her outside.” Silence shattered. Even the wind seemed to stop. My lips parted. “What?” But no one answered me. The door shut. Click. And then the rain came down harder. And I was left standing outside a house I didn’t belong to. In a marriage I didn’t understand. With a man who looked at me like I was nothing.