After the wedding, Maya was swiftly introduced to the reality of her new life as Zayed’s wife. The honeymoon phase was non-existent; instead, their marriage felt like an immediate test. There were no romantic getaways, no whispered sweet nothings in the dark. Instead, she was expected to act like the queen she was now—perfect in every sense, a symbol of Zayed’s power.

The first few days after the wedding were spent adjusting to the palace, the sheer magnitude of it all. Everything was polished and pristine, from the gilded halls to the crystal chandeliers. But beneath the opulence, Maya couldn’t shake the suffocating feeling that she was always being watched, always under scrutiny. Zayed’s presence was ever-looming, a constant reminder that she was never truly alone. There were moments when she caught him observing her from a distance, his gaze intense and unwavering, as though marking her every movement.

Zayed’s expectations were clear. He would decide everything—how she dressed, how she behaved, and where she went. Her every action had to reflect her status as his queen, but also as his possession. Maya had known that he was a man of tradition, but living within his rigid framework was something else entirely. He was controlling, almost obsessively so.

They had their first dinner together as husband and wife in the grand dining hall. The lavish table stretched out before them, filled with food that Maya barely had an appetite for. The palace staff stood to the side, serving them in silence, as though they, too, were mere bystanders in this carefully constructed display.

Zayed sat across from her, his gaze never wavering as he observed her. He didn’t speak much, and the silence between them felt heavy, as though he was waiting for her to do something—something wrong, perhaps.

“What is it?” she finally asked, unable to bear the quiet tension any longer.

Zayed leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly against the surface of the table. “I expect you to be more than just a pretty face, Maya. You are my queen now. Your every move should reflect that.”

She stared at him, a bitter taste rising in her mouth. “I know that, Zayed.”

His eyes darkened. “Do you? Do you truly understand what it means to be my wife? To be the queen of my kingdom?”

Maya swallowed. She wanted to argue, to tell him she was more than just a symbol, more than a pawn in his game. But the way he looked at her—his icy gaze, his commanding presence—made her second-guess herself.

“You will learn,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “And when you do, you will realize the power you hold at my side. But you must first submit to my will.”

His words were both a promise and a warning.

The following days were filled with small lessons on how to behave as the queen, with Zayed guiding Maya in the art of royal etiquette, reminding her that everything she did reflected on him. And yet, in the moments when they were alone, she could feel the weight of his expectations pressing down on her. His coldness seemed to pervade every interaction, as though he wanted her to understand that there would be no softness, no affection, unless she earned it.

But Maya had learned something in these early days of marriage. Zayed might be cold, but he was also possessive. He didn’t just want her to be a queen—he wanted her to be his, in every possible sense. He wanted her to belong to him, and he would stop at nothing to make sure that happened.

She hadn’t yet figured out if she was ready for this kind of marriage, but she knew one thing: She was already deeply entangled in it.