Love Unscripted

28. Khoobsurat Biwi

                         Y/N's POV

I stirred in my sleep the next morning, wincing as a sharp pain pierced through my head. My eyes fluttered open, and the events of yesterday came crashing back into my mind. The reality hit me like a cold wave-I was married now. I was no longer Y/N Farooqi; I had become Y/N Naseem Shah.

If this had happened later in life, after I had achieved my dreams and lived on my own terms, I might have been the happiest person alive. But right now, there was no joy in this marriage. The timing was all wrong, and the weight of it pressed heavily on my chest. How could I feel happiness when the dreams I'd nurtured for years had been shattered overnight?

I still couldn't wrap my mind around how my own father, someone I trusted implicitly, could force me into this marriage. And Naseem... he had promised me he'd refuse, that he'd fight for my right to choose my own path. Yet, he'd broken that promise and agreed to the marriage. The sense of betrayal was overwhelming.

Sitting up in bed, I massaged my temples to ease the throbbing headache. The sound of running water from the bathroom told me that Naseem was inside. I glanced over at the couch; it was slightly disheveled, indicating that he had slept there last night. I looked down at the soft duvet covering me.

Did he tuck me into bed after I fell asleep?

I closed my eyes, groaning internally as the memory of last night replayed in my mind. The panic attack had come out of nowhere, and I had been completely vulnerable in front of him. I hated that he had seen me like that, so raw and exposed. It made me feel weak, and I despised that feeling.

But even more than that, I despised the situation we were in. This wasn't how I imagined my life. This wasn't how I wanted to start a marriage-with resentment, with broken dreams, with a husband who had promised one thing and delivered another.

As the sound of the shower continued, I wrapped the duvet tighter around myself, trying to find some comfort in its warmth. But no matter how tightly I held on, I couldn't shake the coldness that had settled deep inside me.

The water shut off, and I heard the bathroom door creak open. My heart involuntarily sped up as I braced myself to face Naseem. I kept my eyes down, pretending to be preoccupied with smoothing out the wrinkles on the duvet, hoping to avoid the awkwardness that was sure to fill the room.

"Good morning," his voice was soft, almost hesitant.

I forced myself to look up at him. His hair was damp, and he had changed into fresh clothes. There was a tentative expression on his face, like he wasn't sure how I would react to him. And truthfully, I wasn't sure how I wanted to react either.

"Good morning," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. The room fell silent again, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

"I-um," Naseem started, rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous habit I had noticed about him. "I'm sorry about last night. I didn't mean to upset you."

His words were genuine, but they did nothing to ease the ache in my chest. "It's not just about last night, Naseem," I said quietly, my gaze dropping to my hands that were clenched tightly in my lap. "It's about everything. About how everything I've worked for, everything I dreamed of, is gone."

He took a step closer, and I could see the concern etched on his face. "Y/N, I know it feels like that right now, but-"

"But what, Naseem?" I interrupted, my voice rising slightly as frustration bubbled to the surface. "Ab aap kya hi bol sakte hain jo merko behtarfeel kara sakee? You said you loved me, but if you really did, you wouldn't have agreed to this marriage. You would've fought for me, for my dreams."