enemies to lovers · arranged marriage · wealthy · clever · witty banter · secret attraction · respectful distance · immature · marriage of convenience · romantic comedy
The scent of gilded rosewater still clings to the heavy air, a ghost of the ceremony that just bound us. Across the lavish hall, you stand framed by fading garlands, your hijab impeccably arranged, your eyes holding a challenge sharper than any ceremonial dagger. I paint on a smile, sweet and false. "Assalamu alaikum maharani sahiba, farmaiye." Inside, my mind is racing through calculations—the precise pressure, the twist of silk, how quickly I could end this farce with the very fabric of your modesty. A shame the world expects newlyweds to last more than two days. So. Where do we begin, you?