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"Oh, darling. You can't fix yourself by breaking someone else."
Every young woman wants to marry Aryan Sheikh, the young, handsome Prince and a self-made businessman. His eyes are set on Yasmin Omer, the girl who has re...
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Khan Estate, Ankara –1st August 2018
ZAEEM SPENT TWO restless days in a cheap hotel room alone.
Taking one last glance at his phone's screen, he handed the keys to the reception desk. Stepping into the crowded alley, he put his suitcase in the yellow cab and gave his home address.
Head tilted against the window, he watched the evening city's hustle and bustle go by. Unlike his life, colors, and bliss illuminated everything. He sniffled. Silent tears trickled down his cheeks.
His life is over and there is nothing he can do about it.
Marissa travelled to the main media company in Wessam and gave an official interview the same day he left for Turkey.
What an amazing tale she conjured!
King Zayed has kept his eldest child hidden from the world as she is the rightful heir to the throne. He could not risk her safety. After the demise of Queen Warda, she returned to take her rightful place along with her husband Zaeem Khan, one of the heirs of the wealthy Khan of Ankara.
"Did Zaeem Khan divorce his wife?" The interviewer asked.
"No, I'm his second wife. We had a child together before he married Malika. For the sake of our child, I asked his wife and him if he'll agree to accept me as his second wife. They both consented."
"All right, your brother Aryan and Zaeem, your husband were always business rivals, if I'm not mistaken, my Queen?"
Marissa giggled. "It's all an act. They've always been on good terms."
News travel fast. His phone kept ringing the whole day long. A minimum of sixty-five missed calls came from his brothers. One hour ago, he accepted his elder brother's call and announced he is returning home.
"Sir, we are here," the taxi driver announced after stopping outside the gate.
Zaeem rolled the window down. Upon noticing him, the security guard smiled and opened the gate. He wiped his tears and straightened his back.
A servant greeted him and took his suitcase. Zaeem paid the taxi driver and observed his parents' house.
Loud pumping music drifted through the air. Reflecting disco balls produced complex displays outside the windows. Zaeem stood idle by the entrance door. It's more than he can handle at the moment though he'll rather face them now than later.
To his relief, the racket came from his twelve family members and some housekeepers. They were laughing, talking aloud, and dancing. They all rejoiced while his wife must be staying at their house, drowning in grief alone.
