The grand wedding day arrived with the full force of a royal spectacle. Every inch of the palace had been adorned with flowers and silks, the scent of jasmine heavy in the air, blending with the sound of soft, traditional music that echoed throughout the halls. Servants rushed in every direction, preparing for the event of the century. This was not just any wedding—it was the union of Zayed Al-Mansour, the Sheikh of Zaydara, and Maya, the woman chosen for him by fate.

Maya stood in front of a gilded mirror in her chamber, the reflection of her wedding dress striking her as almost too beautiful to wear. It shimmered with intricate embroidery—golden thread and tiny diamonds scattered across the fabric, catching the light. The veil, a cascading waterfall of sheer silk, was heavy in her hands. Her heart pounded as she took in the reflection: a woman about to become a queen, her life irrevocably tied to Zayed.

But even though she was supposed to be the center of attention, surrounded by luxury and love, Maya’s thoughts were elsewhere. She didn’t feel like a bride; she felt like an object on display—an arrangement between two powerful figures. There was no passion in this marriage, only cold calculation. It was what Zayed wanted, and in some twisted way, it was what he had always intended.

Maya took a deep breath, steadying herself. As the palace maids helped her into the dress, she knew that the decision to marry Zayed had been made long ago, and she had no choice but to comply. The word "fate" had been used by Zayed many times before, and whether she liked it or not, it was the truth she was now forced to live with.

A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

“Your Highness,” the maid’s voice was gentle, “it’s time.”

Maya nodded, the finality of it all settling deep in her chest. She allowed the maid to guide her out of the room, the weight of the gown dragging her down the hall toward the chapel. She felt as though she was moving in slow motion, each step carrying her closer to her fate. As she reached the doors to the chapel, the enormity of the moment nearly overwhelmed her.

The music softened, and all eyes turned to her as the grand doors opened. Zayed stood at the altar, his back straight and posture commanding, as if his very presence held the power to shape the world. He was regal, dressed in the finest tuxedo that complemented his dark, handsome features. His gaze met hers as soon as she entered the room, and there was no softness in his eyes—only the cold, unyielding strength that had always defined him.

She was his. And the world would soon know it.

The ceremony unfolded in a blur, the priest’s words merging into a soft hum in Maya’s ears as Zayed’s eyes never left her. When it came time for the vows, she was too nervous to remember every word, too overwhelmed by the weight of the moment.

“Do you take Zayed to be your lawfully wedded husband?” the priest asked.

Maya swallowed hard, the words barely escaping her lips. “I do.”

Zayed’s eyes gleamed with an emotion that Maya couldn’t quite read—satisfaction, perhaps, but also something darker, like a promise he’d been waiting for her to make.

“I take Maya to be my wife, my queen, my only,” Zayed’s voice was low and sure, reverberating through her chest like a quiet storm.

And with that, it was done. The marriage was sealed, and Maya was now bound to Zayed in every sense of the word.