Chapter 3

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As Imaan entered the room, the soft light from the bedside lamp cast a warm glow, making the space feel intimate yet suffocating. She realized the guests were outside, their laughter and chatter faintly audible through the walls. With a determined look, she pulled the curtains closed, effectively hiding the inside scene from prying eyes.

Turning back, she saw Yahaya standing by the bed, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He knew Imaan was not one to give up easily, but this reaction took him by surprise. Without warning, Imaan grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him, tears streaming down her face.

"How can you do that? I hate you so much!" she cried out, her voice choked with emotion. She picked up another pillow and threw it with all her might, her frustration and anger spilling over.

"Hey, stop it!" Yahaya shouted, dodging the pillow and running to the other side of the bed to avoid her assault.

"Shut up! You, my husband? Astagfirullah, I can’t even dream of it!" she yelled, grabbing yet another pillow and flinging it at him.

Yahaya ducked, barely avoiding the flying pillow. "Calm down, Miss Little Mouse! This isn’t my fault!"

"Don’t call me that!" Imaan screamed, launching another pillow. "You just went along with it like it was nothing! How could you?"

Yahaya raised his hands in a defensive gesture, trying to shield himself from her fury. "I didn’t know what else to do! You know how our parents are. They’ve already made up their minds."

"That doesn’t mean we have to go along with it!" she retorted, her voice trembling with anger. "You could have said something, anything!"

Yahaya sighed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. "And what good would that have done? They wouldn’t have listened."

"You just had to say you hate me as much as I hate you!" Imaan retorted, throwing the last pillow at him, her voice breaking as she sniffled.

Yahaya tried to suppress a laugh and sat beside her on the bed. "How could I say that when I know my father would never agree? He would’ve just dismissed it."

With teary eyes, Imaan looked up at him, incredulous. "Are you laughing? Seriously, how can you laugh at a time like this?" She spotted a pen on the bedside table and threw it at him in frustration.

"Hey, stop it!" Yahaya exclaimed, catching the pen mid-air. "I’m not laughing at you. I have an idea, that’s why I agreed to this."

"An idea?" Imaan asked, her curiosity piqued despite her anger.

"Look," Yahaya began, leaning forward. "We’ll be living abroad, right? So who’s going to know how we actually live our lives? We can just act like a couple when we need to and live like cousins who don’t like each other the rest of the time."

Imaan frowned, wiping away her tears. "Are you crazy, or am I missing something? Even if we don't like each other, we’ll still be husband and wife. It’s not that simple."

Yahaya sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know it’s not simple, but think about it. We set boundaries between us, keep our personal spaces, and just coexist. And if things get too tough, we can always get divorced later. They just want the marriage to happen."

"Divorce? Are you insane?" Imaan's voice rose in disbelief. "My dad would kill me. Astagfirullah, Yahaya, this isn’t a joke!"

Yahaya took a deep breath, trying to calm the situation. "I’m not saying it’s a joke. I’m trying to find a way for us to survive this. We both know our parents won't budge, so we need to figure out how to make it work for us."

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