"I will never wear these clothes."
Maya crossed her arms firmly.
"When we… um… when we were married, you were only seventeen. Now it's been fifteen years—you're thirty-two. There's no way you were alone all this time. I'm sure you got married again. These clothes must belong to your wife. I'm sorry, but I'm not great enough to wear my co-wife's clothes."
Arif stared at her in disbelief. For a moment, he genuinely felt the urge to knock some sense into her.
"Who told you I got married?" he asked coldly.
"Why would someone need to tell me?" Maya shot back. "I'm twenty-three, not a child. I can understand things."
Arif scoffed. "Understand? You understand nothing. I left Bangladesh because of one marriage. If I had married again, I probably would've had to leave the world itself."
Maya froze.
"So… you never married?"
"No."
Maya let out a deep breath of relief. Under her breath, she whispered,
"Thank God… at least I don't have to deal with a co-wife."
"What did you say?" Arif asked sharply.
"N-nothing!" she said quickly.
"Change your clothes," Arif ordered before walking out of the dressing room.
The moment he disappeared, Maya jumped in excitement like she had won the lottery. She pulled out her phone, played a song, and started dancing wildly, arms and legs flying everywhere.
Her happiness overflowed. She raised both hands toward the ceiling and shouted,
"Allah! I succeeded! I'm successful! If I had known things would go this smoothly, I wouldn't have planned so much drama! Thank You, Allah!"
Maya chose a blue three-piece outfit, took a shower, and sat on the bed. The room, like the rest of the house, was completely black—furniture, curtains, bedsheets, everything.
She suddenly flopped onto the soft bed. The comfort relaxed her instantly. After days of exhaustion and endless planning, she finally felt peace. This was the day she had waited for.
Before she realized it, Maya fell asleep.
She woke up to the sound of something falling.
Groggily, she searched for her phone and checked the screen. 19:49.
"It's night already?" she murmured.
Rubbing her eyes, she stepped out into the corridor. She hadn't come here to sleep—there was something she needed to do.
As she walked slowly, observing every corner, a sudden shout echoed from a room at the end of the corridor.
Someone was yelling—but the words weren't clear.
Curiosity pulled her forward.
Maya stood in front of the door, gathering courage. Just as she reached for the handle, the door opened suddenly.
"Ah!" Maya screamed.
"Ah!" the man screamed too.
The reason? The man was wearing a black face mask, and Maya had not expected to see anyone. Both of them froze in shock.
"Who are you?" the man demanded nervously.
Instead of answering, Maya fired back, "Who are you?"
"What do you mean, who am I? You entered my house and you're asking me?" he snapped. "Are you a thief? How did you get inside? Arif! Arif!"
"Stop yelling like a cow!" Maya shouted. "Do I look like a thief to you?"
"Why? Are you Queen Elizabeth? You look like a thief to me!"
Their argument was interrupted by Arif's arrival.
"What happened, Rick? Why are you shouting?" Arif asked calmly.
Rick pointed at Maya. "Bro, there's a thief in your house!"
Arif frowned. "Where?"
Rick lost his patience. "Are you blind? She's standing right there!"
Arif adjusted his golden-framed glasses and looked at Maya.
"She's not a thief," Arif said casually.
"She's my wife."
Rick felt like the ground disappeared beneath his feet.
"What?" he yelled. "When did you get married, bro?!"
Arif replied calmly, "Fifteen years ago."
Rick's eyes widened in shock. "What the—?!"
"Watch your language," Arif warned. "I'm serious. She is my wife."
Rick stared at Maya, then at Arif, completely stunned.
"You seriously got married… and never told me?"
The silence that followed was heavy.
And dangerous.
To be continued…