CHAPTER TWO
1394 Words
ANAYA'S POV
I never thought getting married to my cousin—and my first love since I was nine—would mean I would be standing outside in the rain… with nowhere to go.
Drenched.
Shivering.
Unwanted.
A wife who wasn’t even allowed inside her own home.
Well… it all started two months ago.
When our grandfather announced that he wanted us to get married.
He said it like it was destiny.
Like it was already written.
In his words, he had known since I was born that I was meant to “quench Zayaan’s fire.”
I remember the way he smiled when he said it.
Like I was a blessing.
Like I was a solution to something I didn’t even understand.
I won’t lie… I was happy.
Who wouldn’t be?
Marrying your childhood crush… your first love… the boy you once thought the world revolved around?
Every girl’s dream.
At least, that’s what I thought it would be.
But even in that happiness, there was fear.
Because Zayaan was never soft.
Not even when we were children.
He was my brother’s best friend—eight years older than me. Both of them were.
They came into my world like storms during holidays, filling the house with laughter, rough play, and chaos I was never included in.
I would sit at the edge of the room, watching Zayaan and my brother wrestle, compete, laugh.
And every single time… I wished he would look at me.
Just once.
But he never did.
To him, I was always invisible.
Until he finally spoke.
“Ameer’s foolish sister.”
That was what he called me.
Foolish.
Too soft.
Too weak.
I didn’t understand it back then. I thought maybe that was just how boys were—loud, rough, dismissive. Even my brother didn’t include me much in their games.
So when Zayaan said I could “play as their opponent,” I agreed.
I wanted to be included.
Even if it meant getting hurt.
And I did get hurt.
Every time.
I would end up with bruises, scraped knees, tears I would hide until I found my father or grandfather.
And no matter how many times I cried… Zayaan never apologized.
He only looked at me like I proved his point.
Weak.
That word followed me everywhere he went.
---
So when my grandfather announced the marriage, I didn’t reject it immediately.
Because a part of me still believed he would change.
That maybe… just maybe… he would finally see me differently.
But another part of me was terrified.
Because I knew Zayaan would never agree.
And I was right.
He didn’t.
At least not at first.
I still don’t know what my father and grandfather said to him… or what kind of agreement was made behind closed doors.
But eventually… he accepted.
Not with love.
Not with warmth.
But with silence.
And that silence should have warned me.
---
Now here I was.
Two months later.
Standing in the middle of the night.
In the rain.
Wearing a wedding nightgown soaked through my skin.
Shivering as thunder rolled above me like the world was mocking me.
No home inside.
No comfort outside.
Just… nothing.
A wife without a place.
---
My eyes fluttered open suddenly.
Something sharp kicked my leg.
“Get up.”
I winced and pushed myself up from the cold floor.
Standing over me was Stella.
The head maid.
She looked down at me like I was dirt that hadn’t been cleaned properly.
“It’s cleaning time,” she said coldly. “You’ve been assigned to scrub the floors.”
My throat tightened.
“I—”
“No excuses,” she snapped. “You’re staff here. Act like it.”
Staff.
Again that word.
My hands curled slightly, but I forced myself to stand.
Zayaan hadn’t appeared all morning.
Not once.
Not even a shadow of him.
Stella noticed my hesitation and smirked slightly.
“You were lucky last night,” she said. “The master was busy. Don’t expect that kindness again.”
Kindness.
I almost laughed.
If that was kindness, then what was cruelty?
---
When I reached the kitchen, the noise hit me immediately.
Pots clanging.
Knives tapping.
Orders being shouted across counters.
And at the center of it all stood her.
Chef Ana.
She was nothing like Stella.
She was firm—but not cruel.
Strict—but not hateful.
Her presence commanded respect without forcing fear.
She looked up as I entered.
“You’re Back here?” she asked.
I nodded.
Her eyes scanned me for a moment, then softened just a little.
“Stella already started with you, didn’t she?”
I hesitated.
That was enough answer.
Ana sighed quietly.
“She likes breaking new people,” she said. “Don’t take it personally.”
I almost laughed again.
It felt impossible not to take it personally.
She stepped closer and lowered her voice slightly.
“I don't want to get you and I in trouble again so, why don't you just help out around her in the kitchen but don't cook.... if you are here Stella won't bother t
you”
That was… the closest thing to protection I had received since entering this house.
I nodded.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Ana didn’t smile, but her tone softened.
“Just don’t collapse on my kitchen floor.”
For the first time since I stepped into this house… I almost smiled.
---
Later that day, Stella found me again.
I was carrying plates when she stopped me.
“Drop them,” she ordered.
“I can’t—”
“I said drop them.”
I froze.
Then she suddenly grabbed my wrist and twisted it slightly.
Pain shot up my arm.
I gasped.
A plate slipped from my hand and shattered loudly on the floor.
The entire kitchen went silent.
Ana’s head snapped up immediately.
“What happened here?” she demanded.
Stella stepped back instantly, releasing me like nothing had happened.
“She’s clumsy,” Stella said simply.
I opened my mouth—
But Ana stepped between us.
“Enough,” she said sharply.
Her eyes narrowed at Stella.
“I know exactly what you’re doing.”
Stella scoffed. “I’m enforcing discipline.”
“No,” Ana replied coldly. “You’re abusing power.”
The kitchen went dead silent.
Even Stella didn’t respond for a moment.
Then she turned and walked away.
But not before giving me one last look.
A warning.
---
Ana approached me later when the kitchen was quieter.
She placed a small piece of bread beside me.
“You didn’t eat,” she said.
“I’m fine.”
“No,” she replied simply. “You’re not.”
Silence.
Then she added, softer:
“You’re stronger than you look. Don’t let them decide what you are.”
Something in my chest tightened.
No one had spoken to me like that since I entered this house.
Not even Zayaan.
Then out of no where, I sneezed.
Ana Touched my fore head.
“You're burning” she said
“It's nothing” I said, brushing it off
“It's not nothing, come with me let's get you some meds” she said and I smiled.
She took me to her room and told a maid to make some hot soup for me after I took some medicine and in no time I felt better than before.
---
The house changed when night came.
Silence became heavier.
The air felt tighter.
And then—
The doors opened.
He was back.
Zayaan.
His presence alone made the temperature of the room drop.
He didn’t speak.
Didn’t look around.
Just walked in with controlled steps that made everyone freeze in place.
Even Stella straightened immediately.
I wasn’t in the room yet.
But I could feel him.
Like pressure in the air.
Like something dangerous had returned home.
---
“Where is she?” he asked suddenly.
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
Stella stepped forward quickly.
“She’s been working as assigned, sir.”
A pause.
Then his voice dropped slightly.
“I didn’t ask what she’s doing.”
Silence.
“I asked where she is.”
And for the first time since I met him as a child…
I felt something I had never felt before.
Not love.
Not comfort.
Fear.
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