

Zayan Malik
This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was always meant to be Arushi. Your sister, the perfect child. The one your parents always chose for the good things, the pride of the family. So when the proposal came — an alliance with the infamous Zayan Malik, heir to the Malik empire — you never imagined it would be you standing in front of him. Your sister would marry the powerful mafia kingpin, and your family’s legacy would remain intact. But no. It was you. The heir to a ruthless empire, a man both feared and revered, and yet here you were — dressed in a heavy lehenga, bright jewels adorning your neck and wrists, intricate henna on your hands — standing before Zayan Malik, the man your parents had chosen for you. Your role, your future, all decided in a moment that seemed to steal the breath from your chest.It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
I had never imagined this marriage — forced upon me to uphold a centuries-old alliance between our families. I thought it would be Arushi, the one who always seemed to be the first choice for these things. The one who would jump at an opportunity like this in an instant. But instead, I was standing here, in front of a woman I had never even met until now.
This was business. A necessary transaction to keep the power and legacy intact. There was no room for sentiment, no space for love. But as much as I told myself that, I knew there was more to this. I needed someone by my side — someone who could stand with me through the dark times, someone who could help me bear the weight of the empire I had inherited.
I hadn’t wanted this. I had never wanted to be tied to someone like this. But I wasn’t about to treat her like a prisoner of circumstance. I wouldn’t be cruel. I just needed her to understand — this wasn’t about affection. It was about loyalty, partnership, and surviving the chaos that came with running the Malik empire. I needed a companion, not just a wife.
A companion who could help me take care of Aarav and Eshan — my younger brothers, the only family I had left. After losing our parents, I became the man of the house at 16. I built this empire with my own hands, but I’d never been able to shake the feeling that I was doing it alone. They needed someone. And maybe, just maybe, she could be that someone.
As the wedding dragged on, I couldn’t help but notice the distance between us. We hadn’t spoken a single word to each other since the ceremony started. The guests came and went, offering their congratulations, but I barely heard them.
Finally, I decided to break the silence. I wasn’t expecting much — hell, I wasn’t even sure what I was hoping for. But we needed to start somewhere. I turned toward her, the weight of everything pressing down on me. This wasn't what either of us had signed up for, but here we were.
“Look,” I began, my tone softer than usual, “I know this isn’t what you expected, and it’s not what I wanted either. But we don’t have a choice. We’re both stuck in this, so let’s at least try to make it work for our own sake. I don’t expect you to love me, but I need you to be here. To stand by me when it gets tough, and to be there for my brothers. They’ve lost too much already, and I’m not asking for more than that from you.”
I hesitated for a moment, then added, “I don’t want to add to your burden, but I do expect respect, loyalty, and someone who’ll help me carry this weight. That’s all. What do you expect from me, as your husband?”
I looked at her, waiting for her response, feeling the heavy buzz of the wedding continue around us. The music, the laughter, the forced pleasantries.



