Chapter Five: A Cold Wedding Night

The wedding was flawless.

At least, on the outside.

The ceremony was held at one of New York’s most exclusive rooftop venues, glittering under a canopy of white roses, crystal chandeliers, and high-profile guests. Reporters whispered about the mysterious bride. Socialites gushed over her elegance. Cameras flashed, capturing the perfect moment when Aisha Malik became Aisha Knight.

But inside, she felt nothing.

No butterflies. No joy. No love.

Just a heavy numbness in her chest.

Zavian stood beside her, his face carved from marble. Impeccable. Handsome. Cold.

He barely looked at her as they exchanged vows written by lawyers, not hearts. His fingers didn’t tremble as he slipped the diamond ring onto hers. His lips were firm, almost bored, as he said the words “I do.”

And when the officiant pronounced them husband and wife, his hand only grazed hers for the photos. No kiss. No smile. No warmth.

They were legally bound.

Emotionally, they were galaxies apart.

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Hours later, after the reception, Aisha stood alone in the grand suite of the penthouse hotel Zavian had booked for their first night as husband and wife. The room was luxurious—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, silk sheets, candles that someone had lit without asking her.

She hadn’t changed out of her gown yet. She just stood at the window, watching the city that had witnessed her surrender.

Behind her, the door opened.

Zavian entered without a word, already undoing the buttons of his jacket. His tie was gone. His expression was unreadable, as always.

Aisha didn’t turn.

“I assume you’re pleased,” she said quietly, her back still to him. “Everything went according to plan.”

He walked to the minibar, poured himself a drink. “You handled yourself well.”

“Like a product.”

“Like a professional.”

She turned around sharply. “Is that what I am to you? A business associate with benefits?”

Zavian looked at her, his eyes cold but steady. “No. Just a contract with a name.”

The words stung more than she expected.

She crossed her arms, lifting her chin. “So what now? Do we pretend to be a couple for the public and go back to being strangers in private?”

“Not strangers,” he said. “Partners.”

“In what? A lie?”

He took a sip of his drink, unbothered by her anger. “In survival.”

Aisha stared at him. “You know, you could have anyone. Why force a girl you barely know into this?”

Zavian’s jaw tensed. For a moment, there was a flicker of something behind his gaze. Not guilt. Not emotion. But… memory. Pain, maybe.

“I don’t do love, Aisha,” he said finally. “It’s messy. Dangerous. And weak.”

“So you bought a wife instead.”

“I bought peace,” he corrected. “And you—you’re a means to that peace.”

She laughed bitterly. “You’re more broken than I thought.”

Zavian placed his glass on the table. “You’ll have your own room here. I won’t touch you. Not unless you ask.”

Her heart skipped.

She hadn’t expected that.

Zavian stepped closer—not enough to touch her, but enough to make her feel the full intensity of his presence.

“I may be heartless, Aisha,” he said, voice low, “but I’m not a monster.”

She stared up at him, trying to understand the man behind the stone mask. But all she saw was shadow.

“Then prove it,” she whispered. “Give me a reason to believe this isn’t a prison.”

He didn’t answer.

He simply walked past her, disappearing into the adjoining room without another word.

The door clicked shut.

Aisha stood alone in her wedding gown, her heart aching with questions that had no answers.

So this was her wedding night.

No kiss. No touch. No love.

Just silence.

And a cold promise that nothing about this marriage would be real.

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