Mr. Billionaire Unwanted Bride

chapter 25

If you haven't prayed your salah please pray this book can wait but your salah can't

Happy reading

Third person p.o.v

Zunaid walks through the front door, exhausted and ready to relax after a long day at work. But the moment he steps inside, he is greeted by an ear splitting crash coming from the kitchen.

"  Mannat!" His mind only crosses with one name.

Zunaid rushes towards the kitchen, his curiosity piqued by the cacophony unfolding within. He reaches the kitchen entrance and freezes in disbelief.

INT. KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS

The scene is chaotic. Pots and pans lay strewn across the countertops, and flour creates a cloud that hangs in the air. Mannat, stands in the centre, her face covered in a mixture of ingredients. She holds a recipe book, but her frazzled expression suggests it hasn't been of much help.

" What the hell " he shouted and Mannat looked at him scared " you came …so early? " Mannat asked innocently waiting for him to shout at her, Zunaid march toward her angrily but only to put his foot on some peel laid on the floor and slip , Mannat eyes widen when she saw Zunaid disbalance and fall on her , she tried to hold the giant frame but instead she slip too and they both fall on the floor and groan in pain.

" You are so heavy " Mannat grunt in pain struggling under him.

Zunaid, still trying to regain his composure, lifts himself up slightly, supporting his weight on one elbow. He looks down at Mannat, his eyes glistening with admiration.

" I know I am beautiful but can you adore me later because I am dying here " Mannat blabber ruining the moment .

Realisation hit like a cold water splash on his face as he immediately got up without helping her.

Mannar gave a disappointed look " chivalry is dead these days " she muttered getting up .

" Why did you take up the challenge when you have no idea how to cook? " He asked, turning directly at her.

Mannat's lips thinned with frustration " if you weren't so busy devouring delicious food made by Gohar then you would have notice how your aunt was constantly taunting me that I am incapable of being a good wife " she almost yelled at the end .

" It's not my fault if she cooks delicious " he muttered under his breath

one glare made his mouth shut .

Zunaid started to walk toward the exit but stole a glance and saw her fidgeting with her stole and looking down , her cheeks were pink and she looked so cute that he wanted to pinch his cheeks.

What pinches her cheeks?? Zunaid shook his head .

He glanced at his wrist watch , he had an online meeting to attend but looking at her miserable state , his feet stopped .

Mannat p.o.v

" I am going to be humiliated today " I mutter under my breath.

I found myself on the verge of tears,overwhelmed by the thought of having to cook dinner when I had absolutely no clue where to start. Tonight's special dinner, organised by my aunt, was looming over me, and I couldn't shake off the anxiety that I would embarrass myself in front of everyone. Cooking was never my strong suit, and I dreaded the possibility of becoming a laughing stock. I feared that my aunt, who always seemed to find joy in criticising my every move, would humiliate me even further.

Suddenly I heard the sound of chopping and looking up I saw Zunaid  taking charge of cooking without any hesitation.

" You know how to cook?" I asked running to his side , almost shocked . I always thought he didn't even know how to lift a glass from the table .

" Sit in front of me " he ordered .

" Why are you going to adore me ?" I tease cheekily .

His hand stopped and he stared at me for a second " No , so that you don't create more trouble " he went back to his chopping .

I made a face " rude "

Sitting in one of the chairs on the counter opposite , I watched him, captivated by his confidence and determination. I was amazed .

As Zunaid began to whip up a culinary masterpiece, I couldn't help but be impressed by his cooking skills. The way he effortlessly manoeuvred through the kitchen, his hands dancing gracefully with the ingredients, was a sight to behold. He had an innate talent for transforming simple ingredients into culinary delights, a skill that I had always admired. Every now and then, I stole glances at my handsome husband, completely smitten by his focused expression and the way his eyes sparkled with passion.

With each dish he prepared, my confidence slowly began to rebuild itself. Zunaid's calming presence eased my worries, reminding me that I wasn't alone in this battle. He didn't just save me from embarrassment but also provided the much-needed support and encouragement that I craved.

" Done " he announced loudly, impressed by himself .

By the end of his cooking me and Zubi started clapping happily .

Zunaid p.o.v

As I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my tie and straightening my hair,
Just then, as if on cue, Mannat entered the room, the atmosphere around the room turned chilly as time slowed down .

I wanted to remove my eyes focus on whatever I was doing but

She looks breathtakingly stunning in her exquisitely designed dress. My breath hitched at the sight of her. The way she gracefully moved, the gleam in her eyes, it was all so captivating. Time seemed to stand still as I took in her beauty.

I found myself unable to tear my gaze away, completely and utterly captivated by her.

But suddenly something clicks within me as someone the same as her in the same dress flashes in front of my eyes .

Samiya?....

Agniated at her audacity to wear a Samiya dress. My fist automatically clenches with undeniable rage .

" How . Dare. You ?" My eyebrows become lowered and pulled closer together.

" Huh ?" She was wearing earrings but looked at me confused .

" HOW DARE YOU TOUCH HER CLOSET !" I grab a perfume bottle and smash against the mirror , it shatters into pieces .

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Oh… no… what do you think is going to happen now???

So today's goal for my lovely reader's if I get 25 comments on this chapter then I will upload the next chapter tomorrow .

Thank you

By the way, did you read Mafia love? It's completed on Wattpad .

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