LET ME HATE YOU

Troublemaker

Amaan paused his descent when his mother asked, "Amaan, aren't you having breakfast?"

The sight of Asmaira seated in Raina's usual spot immediately challenged his resolve. He struggled to contain his simmering anger before turning to his mother.

"I'm afraid I would be sluggish on my first day," he lied, his clenched fist hidden in his pocket a testament to his effort to remain composed.

As in the past, an outburst in front of his parents would only give more attention to the focus of his rage: Asmaira.

The moment he cast a subtle glare at her, she flinched, dropping her fork onto the plate.

"Asmaira?" Feriha questioned, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Feriha's concern only startled Asmaira, who quickly forced a smile and picked up her fork. She had completely lost her appetite seeing her devil of a husband standing in the doorway, looking too calm for his own volatile personality.

"I will make your favorite coffee," Hania offered.

She couldn't hide her happiness seeing Amaan back in a tailored suit and looking like his old self.

Aslan merely nodded in acknowledgment, and Amaan had to force a smile for Hania. He couldn't vent his frustration on her when she was only trying to make him comfortable. It was only the second day of his marriage, and he was already forced to wear a pretense for his own family.

"Sure," he managed a fake smile that became harder to hold when he heard Feriha say, "Sit beside Asmaira."

Feeling his father's scrutinizing gaze, he clenched his jaw and walked toward the chair. Asmaira's heart pounded, sensing him sit beside her without a protest. Him pretending she wasn't there wasn't the concern; the total lack of reaction was. Her breathing turned shallow as she noticed his jaw occasionally ticking. He appeared composed in front of his family, but she knew it was all a facade. Her instincts screamed at his unnerving silence.

When Hania placed a coffee before him, Asmaira nervously peered at him, only to see his fingers clutching the handle with such force that his knuckles turned white. She swallowed hard and instinctively leaned toward her mother-in-law in fear.

Amaan sat in silence, quickly drinking the hot coffee to escape the ordeal he was being forced into. He was determined to make Asmaira's life a living hell, but his parents' constant scrutiny made it difficult to explode. Muttering a hurried 'thank you' to Hania, he abruptly left.

"Ama—" Feriha's voice stopped as Salar placed his palm over hers.

"Let him go. He finally agreed to do something, and if we pressure him at every turn, we will lose him again," he gently advised his wife.

"I'm worried he might feel we have wronged him by forcing him into things he doesn't want. I don't want him to blame anyone," Feriha said, and Salar noticed her worried gaze fall on Asmaira.

"He would if he had that much idle time. Trust me, he will be too busy to even wonder what is happening to him," he assured her, though he couldn't help but frown at Asmaira's timid form.

He wondered how she would ever form a connection with Amaan with such a fearful personality. Amaan would destroy her instantly, had he not planned to keep him swamped in the office at his wife's request.

Contrary to Amaan's determination, things were not going in his favor. Unaware of Salar's scheme, he found himself with no time in the day to devise his next action plan to tackle Asmaira. His father insisted on dragging him to every single meeting, no matter how irrelevant. He was then tasked with drafting the meeting discussion and sharing his opinion with his father and brother at the end of the day.