His Imposed Wife

Prologue

He was beating him mercilessly.
It was the first time she had ever seen him this furious. The courtyard was packed with students. Everyone had gathered to see who had signed his own death warrant by provoking the college's Devil Star.
"Who is it?" a boy asked.
"It's Atta. He's finally getting what he deserves. He has been on the Devil Star's radar for years," said a girl with deep green eyes, her hair tied in a high ponytail.
The boy shook his head regretfully.
Saliha stared at the Devil Star as he relentlessly beat a boy his own age-a boy who had made her life a living nightmare for the past four weeks. She had never imagined he would end up in the Devil Star's hands.
Atta had made her miserable for weeks, constantly harassing her. But one question kept echoing in her mind.
How did the Devil Star know?
She had never told anyone that she was being harassed by a pervert.
"What is happening? Who is this guy? Why is he beating that poor boy? We should inform the dean," Hania said nervously.
Poor boy?
If only Hania knew what that "poor boy" had done to her and what he had been planning. She would have joined the Devil Star in kicking him.
Zain pushed through the crowd and grabbed Roman before he could continue.
He had known Roman since childhood, yet today he barely recognized him. It was as though a stranger had taken his best friend's place.
Holding him tightly around the waist, Zain struggled to pull him back.
"Roman! Roman, calm down! You're going to kill him!" he shouted.
Roman stopped for a moment and took a slow, deep breath.
"If you ever come within an inch of her again..." he growled, grabbing Atta by the hair and forcing him to look into his blazing blue eyes, "...I'll bury you alive."
His voice was so cold that it sent chills through everyone watching.
"Who is he talking about? His girlfriend?" one girl whispered.
"Who knows?" another replied with a shrug. "The Devil Star has plenty of girlfriends. How are we supposed to know which one he means?"
Saliha immediately turned toward them.
The girls fell silent the moment they noticed her staring.
"What are you looking at, freak?" one of them snapped.
Saliha ignored the insult.
Their words echoed inside her head.
He has plenty of girlfriends...
The girls rolled their eyes before walking away.
When Saliha turned back, she found Roman staring directly at her.
A chill ran down her spine.
How did he know that Atta was harassing me?
After giving her one last furious glare, Roman turned and walked away.
The Devil Star was exactly the kind of person she wanted to avoid if she wished to survive college peacefully. He was intelligent, dangerous, and impossible to read. He always hid his true intentions.
Yet today...
He had beaten Atta because of her.
There was no doubt in her mind.
When he said "her," he had meant her.
Zain glanced at Saliha with sympathy.
She knew him only because she had seen him at Roman's house.
"Who was that guy?" Hania asked.
"I... I don't know," Saliha replied without meeting her eyes.
Roman's cold words echoed inside her mind.
"Don't you dare tell anyone who you are to me-or that you even know me."
Those were the first words he had spoken to her when she arrived in town.
"You don't know him?" another girl asked in disbelief.
Both Saliha and Hania looked at her.
"He's the Devil Star of this college," the girl said excitedly. "He's a senior, incredibly handsome, brilliant, and the most popular guy on campus."
Saliha's eyes widened.
Wait... he studies here? He's a senior?
No wonder he had warned her not to reveal who she was.
She had never imagined life would become this complicated.
Not only was she living under the same roof as the Devil himself...
She had to attend the same college.
"I... I should go," she whispered.
"Okay. See you tomorrow," Hania smiled.
Saliha nodded before walking toward the college gates.
She let out a long breath.
At least Atta would never harass her again.

*********

She let out a deep sigh of relief, knowing that no one would harass her anymore.
She was walking toward the college gates, knowing he was furious. She had hidden the fact that a boy had been harassing her at college, despite him telling her that she had no right to keep anything from him. The devil was indeed clever.
She walked slowly down the street when a car pulled up beside her.
She immediately recognized his brand-new black Camaro with its heavily tinted windows. He didn't roll the window down. Instead, he kept pressing the horn impatiently.
Swallowing nervously, she walked toward the car. He unlocked the passenger door for her.
She gulped.
This wasn't going to end well.
She got inside. His face was completely expressionless. She sat quietly, staring out of the window, calm on the outside but panicking on the inside.
Without a word, he started the engine and sped off.
She avoided looking at him.
An uncomfortable silence filled the car.
"How long have you known him?" he asked at last, breaking the silence. His voice was icy, yet she could hear the restrained rage behind every word as he clenched his jaw.
A familiar chill ran down her spine.
Whenever he was around, she felt as though her voice disappeared. Her words became trapped inside her throat, and no matter how hard she tried to speak, nothing came out. It was as though he had complete control over her.
He shot her an angry glance before pressing harder on the accelerator.
The car surged forward at a terrifying speed.
She gasped.
His expression remained blank as he focused on the road ahead. Her heart pounded violently against her chest.
"Please... stop," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut.
Traffic was heavy, and the Camaro narrowly avoided several accidents as it weaved between vehicles.
She trembled with fear.
He didn't slow down.
Not once.
He remained silent, his eyes fixed on the road. It was obvious he was an exceptionally skilled driver, handling the speeding car with frightening precision.
After nearly fifteen minutes that felt like an eternity, he slammed on the brakes.
Her body lurched forward, and her forehead struck the dashboard.
She winced in pain.
Rubbing her forehead, she slowly looked up.
It throbbed painfully.
He was staring at her with blazing blue eyes, his arms crossed over his chest. The car was now parked in a quiet, deserted area.
"How long have you known him?" he repeated in the same cold tone.
Tears welled up in her eyes.
"I... I don't... know him," she stammered.
Without another word, he unfastened his seatbelt and leaned toward her.
She froze.
He grabbed her shoulder roughly and forced her to look into his eyes.
All she could see was fury.
Leaning close to her ear, he whispered,
"You have no idea what you're playing with."
His grip tightened until it hurt.
"I've been watching you... every step you take, every place you go."
His words sent a wave of icy fear through her, as though someone had poured a bucket of cold water over her.
"Trust me... I don't know him. He was trying to..." she began, but he cut her off sharply.
"Out."
She blinked.
"What?" she whispered.
"I said, get out of my car."
Her eyes widened in disbelief.
"I hate repeating myself," he shouted. "Out. Now."
"Where will I go?" she asked, almost in tears. "I don't even know where I am."
Without answering, he opened the passenger door and looked at her with cold, emotionless eyes.
She stepped out, tears streaming down her face.
The moment the door closed, he drove away.
Within seconds, his car disappeared from sight.
She looked around in fear.
She had no idea where she was.
Panic tightened around her chest.
She was standing alone on a deserted beach.
Unable to hold back her emotions any longer, she walked to a nearby tree, sat beneath it, and burst into tears.

********

Two Years Earlier
(Flashback)
"Saliha, my dear child, bring me a glass of water," Mehtaab Bano called from the sitting room.
"Yes, Nani, I'm coming!" Saliha replied from the kitchen. Nani-her maternal grandmother-was the only person in the house who made her feel safe.
Although she was only thirteen, she already knew her way around the kitchen. Her aunt had made sure of that, piling household chores onto her shoulders from a young age.
She hurried back with a glass of water and handed it to her grandmother with a bright smile.
"Here you go, Nani."
Muneera, a neighbour who rarely missed an opportunity to gossip, smiled as she watched the young girl.
"Mehtaab, I must say, this little one is wonderful at running a household."
"My little moon is just as good at her studies," Mehtaab replied proudly, gently stroking Saliha's hair.
Muneera looked surprised.
"She goes to school?"
"Of course she does," Mehtaab answered firmly. "I make sure she attends every day."
"I'll become a doctor one day," Saliha declared, her eyes sparkling with hope.
Before Mehtaab could respond, another voice cut through the room.
"Amma," Rukhsana said impatiently, addressing her mother, "I've told you countless times to stop filling her head with impossible dreams. Keep her at home. I'm not your servant. I already have four children to look after."
Saliha lowered her eyes.
She had heard those words many times before.
Mehtaab's expression hardened.
"Why do you always mistreat my child?" she demanded. "Has she ever been a burden to you?"
Rukhsana laughed bitterly.
"Your precious granddaughter is exactly why we're struggling. Junaid works day and night, yet we're expected to feed another mouth."
Muneera remained silent, listening carefully. By evening, the entire neighbourhood would probably know about today's argument.
Mehtaab straightened her back.
"She isn't living off your charity," she said, her voice trembling with restrained anger. "Tell me, Rukhsana, what did you bring into this house when you married my son? This house and everything in it belonged to my late husband."
She placed a protective hand on Saliha's shoulder.
"Saliha is my granddaughter. She is Maria's only child. Whether people like it or not, she has every right to her mother's share of this family's property. I will not let anyone deprive her of what belongs to her."
Rukhsana scoffed.
"Maria was your daughter-not your son. Daughters don't inherit houses. Her father should have raised her instead of leaving her on our heads."
With that, she stormed into the kitchen.
At the mention of her late daughter, Maria, Mehtaab's heart ached.
Maria had died years ago, leaving Saliha behind.
Since then, Mehtaab had raised the little girl as if she were her own daughter.
Although Saliha was only thirteen, she understood far more than the adults realised.
She knew she wasn't welcome.
She knew every meal she ate was counted.
She knew her dreams made someone angry.
Muneera stood up.
"I should go now, Mehtaab. I still have dinner to prepare."
After she left, silence settled over the room.
Mehtaab sighed heavily.
Arguments like this had become part of their daily life.
No matter how much Rukhsana protested, Mehtaab refused to pull Saliha out of school.
"Education is the only inheritance no one can steal from a girl," she often told herself.
She was determined to give Saliha the independence her own daughter had never been allowed to have.
"Where's Sana?" Mehtaab asked gently.
"She went to school," Saliha replied, looking down.
Mehtaab frowned.
"And why didn't you go?"
"Aunt Rukhsana told me to stay home and wash the clothes."
Another sigh escaped Mehtaab's lips.
Every day, Rukhsana's resentment toward Saliha grew stronger.
Saliha was Maria's only child.
After Maria's death, she had been raised in her grandmother's home.
Her father, Wajhdaan Ahmer, had never once come to take her back.
And Mehtaab had no intention of letting him.
The past they shared was far darker than anyone in that house knew.
Rukhsana sat on the sofa with her arms folded, her face clouded with anger.
Junaid walked into the room and looked at her.
"What's wrong? Why are you so upset today?"
"Your mother is determined to ruin our children's future," Rukhsana snapped.
Junaid frowned.
"What has Amma done now?"
"She wants to give everything to that girl." Rukhsana's voice dripped with bitterness. "If she has her way, Saliha will inherit this house, and our children will be left with nothing."
Junaid fell silent.
A calculating look crossed his face.
"I won't let that happen," he said quietly.
Rukhsana looked at her husband.
The faint smile forming on his lips sent a chill through her.
She knew that look.
It meant he had already begun planning something.