LET ME HATE YOU

Asmaira

"No, please... I didn't do anything. I swear I didn't know."

Asmaira was crying in her sleep, mumbling incoherently.

"Please..."

Still wearing her wedding dress, she was curled up in the grip of a nightmare.

"Don't leave me. I am sorry," she sobbed repeatedly, hugging herself tight while lying on the floor.

Her long, messy hair was scattered around her, and she was visibly shivering, her eyes squeezed shut. A single glance was enough to tell that she was suffering even in her deepest sleep. Her face was slick with sweat mixed with tears. Not a day had passed without nightmares since she heard that news—the news that had completely shattered her world. It was the news that left an invisible, aching hole in her heart, a source of constant restlessness that she could never fill, no matter how hard she tried.

Never had she felt so utterly helpless, and to compound her misery, her one source of comfort was also gone.

"Raina!" she screamed, jolting upright from her sleep.

With ragged breaths and blurry vision, she sat up, wrapping her trembling arms around herself. It took a moment for her to break free from the nightmare's hold and return to reality. She pressed a hand to her chest to steady her pounding heart and swallowed hard to soothe her dry throat. She looked around, finding herself on the floor, exactly where she had hidden from her husband.

Husband?

As if struck by lightning, her body began to shake for a different reason entirely.

The day she agreed to the marriage, she was fully aware of the consequences, but what mattered most, even in her despair, was the promise she had made to herself. She knew that every day of her married life would be a battle, forcing her to confront her fear. However, the emptiness inside her was even more tormenting than her fear. Getting married to Amaan was the only path to peace, and no matter how much he despised her, she would not give up. This time, she was the only one who could save herself, the one who had to stand up for herself.

For the past few months, she had tried to cowardly run from her problems, only to realize it was pointless. The more she delayed, the less time she had left. So, when the opportunity arose and Amaan's family sent a marriage proposal, she immediately seized it.

She wanted—no, she needed—Raina's forgiveness. Knowing it was now impossible, she chose the next best thing: marrying Amaan. No one, including her own family, truly understood what she was going through or why she had agreed to the marriage. No one knew her true motive. Everyone assumed she had changed, transforming into a woman seduced by the luxury her wealthy husband could provide. Her own father, who knew her better than anyone, believed his daughter had fallen for Amaan's money—an assumption she didn't bother to correct or justify.

She had changed, but not in the way people were sensationalizing.

Yes, she was desperate to marry Amaan, but not for his wealth. It was to find a cure for her inner emptiness. Taking a deep breath, she slowly rose from the floor, her muscles aching from sleeping in the cold and on the hard surface. Smoothing out her crumpled dress, she took careful steps toward the door leading out of the room. Peeking from behind the doorframe, she scanned the room for any sign of him. Her eyes instinctively went to the bed, expecting to see him sleeping there. Since she had no idea what time it was, she silently hoped no one was waiting for her at breakfast.

It wasn't that she was a typical shy bride, embarrassed to face her new family after her first night. It was more that she didn't want to offend the people she would be living with and jeopardize the very reason she had come here in the first place.

She let out the breath she had been holding when she confirmed Amaan was nowhere in sight. She tiptoed further into the room and glanced around to ensure she was completely alone. She quickly checked the first door, finding an empty bathroom. Moving to the next door, which led to the closet, she found it empty as well.

Instead of letting her guard down, she instantly sprang into action. Just because he wasn't here didn't mean he wouldn't return, and she had to freshen up before that happened. With that thought, she swiftly gathered her belongings that were scattered on the floor. Grabbing the suitcase she had brought from home, she stuffed everything inside before hiding it under a rack, out of sight. If she had to live with him, the key was to make herself as invisible as possible—at least until she achieved her goal.

With adrenaline surging through her veins, her hands wouldn't stop trembling, nor would her heart stop racing. Once she was sure, she rushed into the bathroom, making extra certain the door was locked in case he decided to barge in while she was showering. Driven by anxiety, she couldn't help but glance toward the door every few seconds, fearing Amaan would appear at any moment.

Asmaira was the epitome of simple beauty, with a cute, heart-shaped face, a button nose, and small lips. Her untamed, waist-length hair was a light shade of brown. No matter how much she tried, her hair seemed to have a mind of its own, refusing to lie flat. She possessed large, crystal-clear brown eyes; one could see her very soul just by looking into them. The same transparency applied to her face; whatever she was thinking was always clearly visible. Her family used to jokingly call her an open book that anyone could read.

Torn between whether to dress up or not, she was lost in thought. True to her nature, she didn't want to over-dress for her new family, nor did she want to come across as a slovenly woman. Finally, she decided it was better to be herself than to pretend. With water still dripping from her hair, she dashed out of the bathroom, only to halt in her tracks when a knock sounded. Assuming it was Amaan, she covered her mouth to stifle a shriek; however, he was not the type of gentleman to knock before entering.

Another knock made her jump.

"Ma'am?" a female voice caught her attention.

Hesitantly, she walked to the door and opened it just a crack. She nervously licked her lips, seeing a woman in her mid-thirties looking at her.

"Good afternoon. I'm Maya, and I will be escorting you for today."

Maya frowned in concentration when she saw Asmaira's lips moving but couldn't hear her voice.

"Sorry?"

Asmaira cleared her throat and mumbled, "What time is it?"

"Twelve in the afternoon," Maya replied, though clearly baffled.

Her confusion deepened when Asmaira's eyes widened, and she rushed back inside without inviting her in. Maya cautiously stepped into the room and watched Asmaira frantically dart in and out of the bathroom. Her movements were hurried, as if she were late, but for what?

Meanwhile, Asmaira was desperate to hide every trace of herself. If she could, she would have wiped down the entire bathroom and vacuumed the air of her scent just so that "devil" wouldn't remember she existed. The thought of being late on her first day also worried her. It wasn't that she was trying to impress her new family, but her tardiness suggested she deliberately didn't care about them.

So unlike her, Maya couldn't help thinking to herself.

She glanced once more at the busy Asmaira, who certainly didn't look like a newlywed bride.

"Feriha ma'am wanted to meet you," she said, finally finishing the thought Asmaira hadn't allowed her to voice earlier.

"What?" Asmaira whispered.