This book is different from My Husband Hates me, this one is a romance. Abdullah isn't the perfect or most kind man, and Maheen isn't a well educated girl, but she is stubborn.

Trigger Warning: Dubious consent

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The car moved forward, leaving behind my home. Was it even home? I couldn't call it that, I wasn't married - my father got rid of me. Got rid of his liability. He should have killed me instead of doing what he did to me. This man was practically a stranger to me, I knew him as a kid, but he wasn't the same. Abdullah Khan, I knew was a kind-hearted boy who was always immersed in his books, but I couldn't forget how he took part in manslaughter. My mother was wrong. He wasn't a kind-hearted man. He was just like the men in the village, cold blooded and cruel.

The driver drove through the way, and I couldn't help but wonder where I was going. My head was aching, and I felt my world move. The road was bad as the car would break every other minute. It was weird... I had never travelled in a car before this and would have preferred a cart over this. As this was making me sick, every time the car turned, the nausea arose, and I would gulp it down. This was torture.

I would have asked him, "How long?" If I wasn't forced into this, if my groom wasn't Abdullah. What if Afsan and I had gotten away? I would be getting married to him instead of Afsan, and then things would have been different. I would have been a happier bride, and Afsan would have been alive. But neither was the case. the headache was forming, and I could feel it spread. My back started ache because of the impacts.

I closed my eyes and took deep breaths. It was hard to breathe, the bile was rising up, the car movement wasn't helping, and the headache was at its maximum level. I held the seat tightly and closed my eyes, thinking of mountains, thinking of skies and rivers. And I calmed down a little. The claustrophobia was because of the heavy ghungat and the niqaab I had to wear, I had never worn one before. In our village, it was a custom that when girl gets married off, she leaves her house in niqaab.

The one my mother gave me was two sizes small, it wasn't a new one sadly because my wedding wasn't planned. My parents knew about him, but they were against our union. My mother had already started finding suitors for me. They wanted to marry me off. Was Abdullah on that list, or was this a mere compromise? I had no idea.

The next time I woke up, my head was on his shoulder. What in the...?

I quickly sat up and turned to look outside. It was dark, but I could see highways. Where were we going? This wasn't the village. We were in the city.

Why did he bring me over here? Was he going to sell me? I held in a gasp, yes that could be a possibility.

He rolled down his windows. I was looking at it, at the view outside, so he loomed over, but I backed away, so he stopped.

"I will open the window," he said, and I nodded my head, giving him space so he could roll it down. The stick needed to be rotated. He could have told me that, but the fresh air was nice, so I didn't complain.

The car stopped, and I got my nerves back, we were in a shady area, and the buses buzzed past the car. There was a bridge above, and the streetlamp here was probably broken. What was happening? I didn't understand, and I didn't want to.

I turned to look at him, but he didn't realise because my face was packed. On second thought, why was I wearing an Abayah in front of him? Wasn't he supposed to be my husband?

It was funny, my entire life I wasn't told to cover my face and now that I was married I wore an Abayah in front of the man who was considered my 'mehram'. I was getting claustrophobic, the car wasn't moving so there was no wind on my face, the shady lane was scaring me. If I was about to die, I would take a proper gulp of the air.

Minutes passed, and a man finally came running towards the car, carrying a parcel. A young boy greeted him, "Assalamwalikum, shaadi Mubarak sahib", he smiled and ruffled the young boy's hair. What was joyous about this occasion? Was he actually happy?

He took the parcel and the car took a u turn. What was in that packet? He noticed my curious eyes and coughed, "I had to get it.

Clearly, he needed it. Otherwise, which sane man would travel all the way to the city on his wedding day. But this wasn't a sane wedding. It was forced. So I couldn't blame him.

The car started again, and we were back in Azamgarh.

"Maheen..."He called my name to wake me up again, and I realised I was sleeping on his shoulder. I got out of the car and looked at the house. It was Jahangir Shaikh's guest house. I felt disgusted, I had to sleep at his residence to prove I wasn't compromised to General, so he doesn't stone me like he stoned my lover.

The cottage was haunting me. It was extravagant, decorated with flowers and petals. Like a newly weds abode, I felt sick a few hours ago. My Afsan was sacrificed, and here I was... what if I ran off on my own?

This was my chance, I grabbed my lehenga and started running, and realised how heavy it was. I was wheezing, my chest aching, the necklace choking me with its tighthold.

I removed it and threw it on the ground. The Abayah tore as it got stuck in a tree branch. I was heading towards the forest, running for my life. It was dark. There were wolves in the forest. I couldn't stay here, absolutely not. I couldn't consummate my wedding with a man who I barely knew, alright we were acquaintances in the past, but I couldn't accept him as my husband when I already had Afsan in my heart.

This was all wrong...

I felt like this was a nightmare.

I looked behind and realised he wasn't chasing me, but before I could rejoice, I heard a voice.

"There is fence around this bungalow. It's impossible to run", He said, adjusting his spectacles. There were no emotions on his face. He was calm and quiet. Right now, it was like he was simply advising me.

I had begged him to let me go in the morning, but he hadn't listened to me. So I didn't give him a response like he expected, I casually turned my head and headed inside the cottage through the back entrance, realising I wasn't running around the forest but now the garden of the cottage. There were rose petals, candles, and orange lighting in the room. The scent attracted me, and I felt a calm come over me. What was it?

I went closer and realised it was tulips. How did Jahangir Shaikh know I adored tulips? Nevertheless, I picked it up, and a childhood memory unlocked.

"Roses are red, and I hate that colour, so I despise that flower too," I said as he applied dettol to my wounds, and I tried not to hiss. I fell down on my knees and scraped it. It was bleeding. I wanted to cry, and I guess I was because Abdullah wiped my nose with his handkerchief.

"I hate Aashna," I said with a huff, wrapping my arms my chest as he laughed. "Why?"

"Because she always wears roses in her hair."

"And you think it's wrong?" I nodded my head, "That colour makes my blood boil, I hate the colour red."

"Brides wear red colour. Do you hate that?" He asked, and I thought for a while the ten year old me was too attached to him. "If you bride wore white to her wedding, will you still marry her?"

He rubbed his head and adjusted his spectacles, "I will bring her tulips instead of roses".

The ten year old me wanted to marry him, and now here I was as his bride, but I didn't want all of this anymore. I placed the tulips on the bed, and removed my Abayah.

I was scared, trembling, I didn't wanted to do it. I barely knew him... how did the woman do it?

Let Abdullah do everything, don't turn you back on him.

I drank some water to calm my nerves and then some more. And went to the dressing table, my nose was swollen, infected and it was bleeding.

The red colour reminded me of blood, his blood, the stones they threw at him. It kept repeating in my brain, and the ache in my heart increased. I wish I could get rid of my conciousness and thoughts. But the trauma remained, I slowly removed all the jewelleries from my body, the necklace, the earrings and bangles.

When it was the nose piercing, I hissed it burnt, there was an infection. I didn't realise Abdullah was behind me until he skillfully pulled it out from my nose. I looked in the mirror, he was far too close, he was behind me, his front touching my back as he reached out to remove the entangled jewellery. He was warm, wearing a white kurta, his hair wet, I could smell his soap. I could feel his arms around my shoulder, and it made me apprehensive. I couldn't define the feeling, but it was a foreign feeling.

I had held Asfan's hands, nothing else, but with Afsan I was never awkward. Because I liked him, but proximity with Abdullah was making me nervous because I knew what was coming next. I wasn't ready for it.

He turned me around so I looked at him, he brought out my hand, his eyes lingering on my palm, then he placed a bracelet.

"What's this?" I asked him, he smiled his dimples visible as he sheepishly rubbing his forehead, "When you were younger you were obsessed with pandas, so I figured a gold necklace with panda as a pendant would be the perfect wedding gift".

As he spoke, memories flooded back, reminding me of simpler times when our connection was innocent and pure. But now, in this moment, everything felt complicated and fraught with tension. The bracelet felt like a symbol of our past, a past I wasn't sure I wanted to revisit.

I stared at him, unsure of how to respond. His gesture was thoughtful, yet it only served to highlight the stark contrast between the boy I once knew and the man standing before me now. Was he trying to bridge the gap between our past and our present? Or was it just another attempt to mask the reality of our forced union? Was it a compensation a price he was paying to buy my heart?

I took the bracelet from him, feeling the weight of it in my hand. It was beautiful, undoubtedly, but it also represented a future I hadn't chosen for myself. A future that felt suffocating and uncertain.

"Thank you," I murmured, unable to muster more than that. My voice sounded hollow, even to my own ears. But Abdullah seemed unfazed, his smile unwavering as he watched me.

"Maheen, I know this isn't what either of us wanted," he began, his tone gentle yet tinged with sadness. "But we can't help it."

I placed the bracelet on the table and closed my eyes, letting my hair down and the heavy lehenga along with the blouse. I didn't wanted to see it, I didn't wanted to feel anything.

"Do you have sleeping pills?" I mustered the courage to ask, I was about to sob, "why?"

"Please I can't do this", I managed to say as the tears dropped, if I was knocked out he could consumate the marriage and I wouldn't have to know. "I will switch off the lights", he said and that was a bit of consolation.

My shoulders were trembling as the cold air hit them I heard shuffling, his clothes were now at my feet. I heard his footsteps and my body froze, I remained standing there like a statue.

"Can we not do this... please", I was begging him, I heard him sigh, as he held my shoulders turned me around, I didn't open my eyes. I didn't wanted to face the nightmare, "Maheen open your eyes, look at me", his voice was stern, I opened them and was met by his face. His kurta was gone, I could look at his chest, but I kept my gaze at his face as he pulled me closer.

I didn't know how to resist, a part inside me knew resistance was futile. Every girl went through this, "You are my wife but according to the village unless they get the proof that you weren't compromised, this wedding will not be considered".

"Do we have to do this today? I can make a cut on my hand and stain the sheets with it", I offered and he snorted, "I am unsure too, what if you were compromised?"

"You think I was compromised?" I snapped at him, my tone signalling how insulting I found his words. He was doubting my character, "As I said, I am unsure, I have to make sure, that you are indeed my wife and mine only"

His words outraged me, was he the same man who had brought me the pendant? His hazel eyes through the spectacle shone and he closed them placing it at the side table, "You said I am your wife".

"The wife who ran away with another man", he corrected dismissively trying to goad me into snapping at him again. And I was so pissed that I did.

"I would be married to Afsan then you", My nose twitched at his words.

Saying nothing, he stalked closer, his face thunderous as his hand wrapped around my upper arm, pulling me towards him. "Best settle in for a lifetime of disappointment then," he snarled, grabbing hold of my jaw.

My hip was against his erction, my chest touching his seperated by the thin clothe of my shameez, before he could plant his lips on mine I covered it. I shook my head, and he looked into my eyes, kissing my knuckles before backing off.

I had no choice but to accept this, still I had the liberty to choose where he touched me. He was giving me time, letting me adjust, but I was scared, what if I exhausted his patience and he snapped? I had heard horror stories... watched one take place infront of my eyes this morning, I couldn't have the continuation.

"I don't love you... this feels abnormal"

Abdullah shrugged, "affection will grow with time", he muttered hopefully, "or it won't. I don't need your love, I just need your compliance", a look of disdain took over my face, I hadn't thought about the future. I removed my shameez and laid on the bed, spreading my legs, "Do it, you can't touch me though", Abdullah sighed looking at the heavens wondering how could he do it without touching me.

He approached me and climbed on the bed, hovering above me, spreading me knees apart with his hand, his fingers reaching out to touch me but I swatted it away. "You can't touch me!"

"It will be painful... if I didn't", He tried to explain, but it all sound like a ruse in my ears. He had put his lower body in mine, and that was it. That's what I heard and learnt, but the judgemental look he gave me made me feel stupid.

"Don't touch me", maybe this was it, he was at the end of the wish. "Alright have it your way", he whispered, his body hovered above mine and he gave me a warning look with his hazel eyes, but I was far too stubborn.

___

"Do it!" He aligned his body with hers, he entered her slowly, streching her and she felt the raw sensation. It ached, she bit her lips to hold in the cry, she saw the pleasure in his eyes, he was enjoying it while she felt it intrude her body, she wanted to stop him. He stopped himself too when he reached an ending and looked into her eyes. She closed them and turned her head to the side, and then she felt it. The pain as he entered her further, she cried out, stopped him, her eyes leaking tears as she held his biceps tightly. He released her and she breathed loudly, "It's painful", her hands reached his chest and she pushed him away, trying to crawl away.

"We will not do it", he sighed and stood up, she blinked her eyes puffy, her nose red, he picked up his white pant. She had made it so far, if she stopped now, they would stone her too. There would be no point in coming so far, there would be no point in Afsan's sacrifice. And if she died, how could she extract her revenge from Jahangir Shaikh? From her father and Abdullah himself...

"Abdullah...", she called his name, she found herself gagging internally but she said those words, "You can touch me... and do it your way", she went back to the position she was previously in, he hovered above her again, and before he could plant his lips on her she turned her head to the side. He could have her virginty, but he could never have her willingness, she was his wife in name. His mouth went to her neck and placed a kiss on her neck, his hand traveled south and settled on her entrance.

In the midst of the conflicting emotions and the physical sensations, Maheen's body betrayed her mind. She couldn't deny the primal response of her body to Abdullah's touch.

As Abdullah's movements continued, Maheen felt a strange, unfamiliar sensation wash over her. It was a sensation she hadn't expected, one that defied logic and reason given the circumstances. Pleasure coursed through her veins, mingling with the discomfort and confusion that still lingered.

She couldn't suppress the involuntary moan that escaped her lips, a sound that surprised even herself. Her body responded to Abdullah's touch with a fervor that she couldn't comprehend, as if seeking solace and release amidst the chaos of their forced intimacy.

It was a brief respite from the harsh reality of her situation, a temporary escape into a realm of sensation and pleasure.

But even as pleasure coursed through her body, a part of Maheen remained acutely aware of the wrongness of it all. She knew that this momentary pleasure was built upon a foundation of coercion and manipulation, and she couldn't shake the feeling of guilt and shame that accompanied it.

As the waves of pleasure subsided and Abdullah withdrew, leaving her panting and spent, Maheen was left grappling with a tumult of conflicting emotions. Pleasure mingled with guilt, desire intertwined with revulsion, leaving her feeling more confused and conflicted than ever before.

She laid there staring at the ceiling as he turned over, the desire was gone. All that was left guilt, she was disgusted by her own body's response, she had responded to him. She had let the desire took over, she had let it drive her, and now that he had turned over Maheen felt used. She wouldn't have allowed him to take care of her, or even touch him after that. Why did she feel so guilty?

If this was Afsan they would have talked all night... it was wrong she knew, she shouldn't be thinking of another man. But heart refused to move on, it was stuck on him. She felt the cold air on her feet, and she imagined Afsan's body, he was in his grave and she laid on bed with one of the men who watched him die. A wave of guilt hit her and tears trickled down her eyes.

He suddenly turned and loomed over her, his hazel eyes looking at the tears that ran down her eyes, and he sighed.

"Maaheen...", he uttered her name with so much regret, she didn't turn to look at him, she just covered her body with the thin blanket. He suddenly wrapped his arms around her waist and spooned her. She couldn't say anything, she wanted to but her lips were tied. Her heart was broken and her body was used.