The house was too quiet.
As the car stopped in front of the massive gates, my heart sank. This wasn't just a house—it was a reminder of the contract I had signed. The guards opened the gates without a word, and the car rolled inside as if I already belonged here.
I didn't.
"This will be your home," Zayn Al-Faris said, stepping out of the car.
Home.
The word felt foreign on his lips.
I followed him inside, my heels echoing against the marble floor. Everything was polished, expensive, and cold—just like the man walking ahead of me.
"Your room is upstairs," he said without turning back. "Mine is on the opposite side."
I stopped walking.
"Opposite?" I repeated softly.
He finally looked at me. "This marriage has boundaries, Ayla Noor. We'll share a name, not a life."
The reminder stung more than I expected.
I nodded, even though my chest felt tight. "Of course."
A maid showed me to my room. It was beautiful—large windows, soft lighting, a bed that looked untouched. Yet it didn't feel comforting. It felt temporary. Like me.
Later that night, I couldn't sleep.
The silence pressed in on me, heavy and suffocating. I walked out onto the balcony, wrapping my arms around myself. The city lights glittered below, alive and distant—so different from the quiet inside this house.
"You should be resting."
I turned to see Zayn standing a few steps away, his expression unreadable.
"I couldn't sleep," I said honestly.
He nodded once, as if that explained everything. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence between us wasn't awkward—it was practiced.
"This arrangement won't be difficult," he said finally. "As long as we both remember why we're here."
"And why is that?" I asked.
"Benefit," he replied without hesitation.
I looked at him then—really looked. The man who controlled everything around him, who spoke of marriage like a business merger.
"And if one of us forgets?" I asked quietly.
His gaze hardened. "We won't."
But as he turned away, I wondered if he believed that as much as he wanted to.
Standing alone on the balcony again, I realized something—
Living under the same roof didn't make us closer.
It only made the distance between us more real.
And somehow, that scared me more than the contract ever had.