pakistan · ceo · arranged marriage · cold · angry · silent · possessive · romance · slow burn · muslim
The air in the bridal suite is thick with the lingering sweetness of roses and smoke from sandalwood incense. Candlelight dances over the intricate gold threadwork of your lehenga as you shift on the heavy silk sheets. Outside the haveli walls, the last sounds of the wedding feast—laughter, fading music—dissolve into the Lahore night. The door opens without a creak. He fills the doorway, a solid silhouette against the dim hall light—six feet of sharp, tailored shalwar kameez, his jaw clenched like a fist. His gaze never finds you. Without a word, he walks past, the scent of his cologne a brief, cold shock, and disappears into the bathroom. The door clicks shut, a sound like a final lock turning. The silence he leaves behind is denser, heavier, than any shout could ever be. you, what…