EHSAAN

Hazem

"Where do you think you're going?" Hazem's voice cut through the silence. Anya froze mid-step, caught trying to slip out unnoticed. Her heart pounded as she slowly removed her niqab, turning to face him.

Hazem leaned against the kitchen doorframe, coffee mug in hand. He looked relaxed, but there was a sharpness in his eyes that made her blood run cold. She had searched the whole house—living room, corridor, dining room—but not the kitchen. He rarely went there. Yet, here he was, as if waiting for her.

“Ammi’s…” Anya stammered.

Hazem's gaze darkened, his patience thinning. "For?" he snapped, tone unforgiving.

Anya flinched, her eyes dropping to the floor. "To see Ammi..." she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Ammi?” Hazem’s voice dripped with mockery, eyebrows arching. He pushed off the doorframe, stepping closer. Anya shrank back instinctively. “Do you take me for a fool, Anya?”

She couldn’t breathe. She shook her head slightly, fear tightening her chest.

“Was one year not enough for you to open your mouth and tell me the truth?” he continued, his voice cutting deeper with every word. “Did you think you could keep running, hiding like a coward, and I would never find out?”

Anya’s heart hammered in her chest, hands shaking as she tried to steady herself under the weight of his words. Shame and fear burned through her.

“Tell me, Anya. Are you taking your education for granted?” Hazem’s voice was cold and sharp with disappointment. Anya, her head still bowed, shook her head. Fear gripped her. What if he stripped her of her education? What if he decided she wasn’t worth it?

Hazem stepped closer, his presence towering, suffocating. "You are not just my wife, Anya. You are a reflection of me. You don't get to be weak. You don't get to be a failure."

His words sliced through her. The pressure of his expectations crushed her, and she felt herself buckling.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” Hazem ordered, voice like a whip. She hesitated, and his voice rose, hard and unyielding. “Now!”

Anya’s head snapped up, her wide eyes meeting his. His fury twisted her stomach. He wasn’t the distant, composed man she feared; he was furious, anger rolling off him in waves.

“Do you think you can just lie to me, and it will all magically disappear?” He scoffed, voice laced with disdain.

She tried to respond, but the words caught in her throat. She was terrified—of not being perfect, of disappointing him. She had made everything worse by hiding. Next to him, she felt small, insignificant—a man of power forced to marry someone beneath him. She couldn’t even meet the simplest expectations. She stood in silence, her own failures pressing down on her like a weight she couldn’t bear.

Hazem’s words hit her, each one stinging more than the last. Tears welled up, but she blinked them back, knowing crying would only infuriate him further.

“Stop the tears. I don’t want to hear your sobbing,” he snapped, voice cold. “I want results. You gave me your word when you married me," Hazem continued, his tone firm, each word precise.

I don’t have any expectations from you except loyalty, honesty, and I want you to do your best to keep my reputation intact. His words echoed in her mind, a reminder of the promise she made without knowing how it would haunt her. Loyalty was all she’d given him. She avoided social interactions, intimidated by the looks people gave her—a  constant reminder she didn’t belong there.

Anya stayed silent, but Hazem wasn’t finished. "I am one of the most watched men in this country. Business, politics—everything I do is scrutinised, analysed, discussed. And do you know what people love more than my success?" He paused, eyes narrowing. "Talking about my failures. Waiting for a reason to bring me down."