TRAPPED IN THE MARRIAGE GAME

The rain drizzled gently against the glass windows of the Jones mansion, soft and cold like the tension hanging in the drawing room. i sat stiffly, my fingers tightly entwined in my lap, eyes fixed on the floor as my father’s voice droned beside me. “She’s of age now. And the King family has done so much for us. The merger will help both businesses.” There it was again , that word. "Merger." As if my life were an extension of Excel sheets and boardroom calculations. Not feelings. Not dreams. Just percentages, alliances, and old promises. i finally looked up, my eyes landing on the man seated across from me .Zayd el-amin King. His crisp white shirt contrasted sharply with the mahogany leather chair he sat on. He looked effortlessly composed, with the aloofness of someone used to getting his way. Twenty-nine, wealthy, and every bit the heir to his family's empire and now, my supposed fiancé. our eyes met briefly. No warmth. Just polite indifference. “This is a chance you both need to embrace,” Mr Jones continued. “It’s a strategic union, and it will benefit generations to come.” A strategic union. Like we were chess pieces. i cleared my throat, surprising even myself. “What if I say no?” my father’s face darkened, but it was Zayd who answered. “You can,” he said, voice cool. “But it won’t change anything. Our families already agreed. Ten years ago.” “Ten years ago I was nine,” i snapped. “I didn’t agree to anything.” His expression didn’t change. “Neither did I. But here we are.” i hated how calm he was. As if my resistance was merely a delay to an inevitable conclusion. my father stood. “We’ll leave you two to talk. It’s best you get acquainted.” The silence after they left was deafening. Zayd poured himself a drink from the crystal decanter on the side table. “I know this isn’t your dream,” he said without looking at me. “It’s not mine either. But fighting it will only make it harder.” “So you’re okay with marrying a stranger just because your father arranged it?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been groomed to run a business since I could walk. Compromise isn’t new to me.” i stood and walked to the window, needing distance. The drizzle had turned into a downpour. Los rain ,always dramatic. “I want more,” i murmured. “More than boardroom deals and empty luxury. I want to fall in love. Travel. Make choices that are mine.” Zayd set his glass down. “Then make them. This marriage doesn’t have to stop you.” i turned sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “It means this doesn’t have to be love. Or even emotional. Just a contract. You live your life, I live mine. We show up when the press demands, smile for the cameras, attend the family functions. That’s all they really want.” i stared at him, stunned. “So you’re proposing... a fake marriage?” “Not fake,” he said simply. “Legal. But without expectations.” It sounded cold. Empty. Yet somehow, it was the first offer that didn’t feel suffocating. “I need time to think,” i said. “Take all the time you want. Just know the engagement is in six weeks.” He walked out, leaving a faint scent of musk and cologne and a whirlwind of questions. Later that night, i sat curled in my bed, staring at the ceiling. Six weeks. To say goodbye to my freedom. my romantic dreams. my plans. my phone buzzed. A text from my best friend, Zayneb. *Zee*: Saw the engagement photos on CityBuzz. Girl, you didn’t even tell me! Are you okay??? i sighed. i hadn’t known my father already released it to the press. The photos were from last month . A charity gala where i and Zayd were first spotted together. Apparently, that had been enough to spin the narrative. i replied simply: “Long story. I’ll call tomorrow.” As i set the phone down, my gaze fell on my vision board across the room. Italy. A scholarship for a culinary school in Florence. i had dreamed of opening my own café . One with art, music, freedom. None of it included marrying a man who viewed love as a business expense. But even as i wrestled with the reality, part of me wondered if this arrangement could buy me time? What if, like Zayd said, i could still live my life? Later that night, As i lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts swirling like a storm. Just as a tear threatened to escape, a soft knock came at my door. “Zara? It’s me, Zayneb. Can I come in?” Relieved, i sat up and opened the door. Zayneb slipped inside quietly, carrying two mugs of warm tea. “I thought you might need this,” she said softly, handing me a mug. i accepted it gratefully, the warmth in her hands grounding me for a moment. we sat on the floor by the window, the moonlight casting gentle shadows across the room. “I need to tell you something,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I’m scared, Zayneb. I don’t want this marriage. I never wanted to be married to him.” Zayneb’s eyes softened with understanding. “Tell me what’s on your mind.” “I feel trapped,” i continued, my hands twisting the mug nervously. “Like I’ve lost my freedom, my future. I don’t know this man, and I’m supposed to build a life with him? I want to run away from all of it.” Tears spilled down my cheeks as i spoke. “But I can’t. It’s too late now. My family... everyone expects me to accept this. I have no choice anymore.” Zayneb reached out, wiping away my tears gently. “I’m so sorry, Zara. It’s okay to feel scared. But you’re not alone. We’ll figure this out together.” I looked into Zayneb’s eyes, finding strength I hadn’t known she had. “Thank you for being here,” I whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Zayneb smiled warmly. “You’ll never have to find out I felt a flicker of hope , I could survive this, with a friend by my side.