Forced to Marry my Enemy

episode 3: Zain had a girlfriend

The music was too loud. The lies were louder.

Alina couldn’t breathe in Heny’s dorm. Heny’s “Truth or Dare” had turned into a circus, and Zain was the ringmaster she never asked for.

She stood up. If she didn’t get air, she’d scream. Her eyes found Ray by the door — quiet, safe, Zain’s brother but not _him_. Maybe if she talked to Ray, the burning in her chest would stop.

She got up and went near Ray but—

A hand clamped around her waist. Hard. Possessive.

Zain grabbed Alina from waist and pulled her closer. His chest hit her back. His breath scorched her ear.

“Sayings” — no, he _growled_ — “you are mine.”

The room vanished. There was only oud, cigarettes, and the iron band of his arm.

“Let go,” she hissed, trying to twist free.

He didn’t. He dragged her through the stunned crowd, past Heny’s dropped jaw, past Sarah’s smirk.

They left.

The hallway was empty. Cold. He shoved her against the wall, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough that she felt caged. His eyes were winter storms.

“You think you can sit on his lap?” His thumb dug into her hip. “After last night?”

“Last night you kissed _her_,” Alina spat. “Sarah. At the party.”

His jaw ticked. Then he did something worse than yell.

He kissed her.

It wasn’t soft. It was punishment. His mouth crashed onto hers, angry, claiming. Teeth. Tongue. A sharp kiss with Zain lip bite — he caught her lower lip, tugged, and Alina tasted blood. Hers or his, she didn’t know.

For one broken second, she kissed back. Because God help her, part of her wanted to be his.

Then reality slammed in. _He has a girlfriend. He kissed Sarah._

Alina slapped Zain.

The crack echoed. His head snapped to the side. A red mark bloomed instantly.

He didn’t touch his cheek. He just looked at her, breathing hard, eyes black. “Do that again when you mean it.”

Heels clicked.

Sarah.

Zain girlfriend is the one he kissed on party night — and there she was, in a red dress, lipstick perfect, smirking at Alina like she was trash.

“Baby,” Sarah purred, looping her arm through Zain’s. “Daddy’s driver is here.”

Zain didn’t look at Alina. Not once. His arm went around Sarah’s waist — the same way he’d grabbed Alina.

She come and left with Zain.

Alina stood there, lip bleeding, cheek burning from her own slap, watching them disappear down the stairs. _You are mine_, he’d said. Then walked out with someone else.

She walked home alone in the rain. Boots ruined. Heart worse.

*Next morning* her phone buzzed. Unknown number.

X text Alina: "ria is in hospital"

Ria. The name hit like ice. Zain’s childhood friend. The “family friend” his mother always mentioned. The girl in the photo X sent — asleep in Zain’s car, his jacket over her.

Alina’s hands shook.

Was Ria the girlfriend? Was Sarah a cover?

And why did X care enough to tell her?

She threw on her coat, grabbed her bag, and ran. If Zain had put another girl in the hospital, God help him.

Because Alina was done crying.

Now she wanted blood.