Disclaimer: Not promoting anything here—neither polygamy nor cheating. This is purely fiction and meant only for entertainment. Nothing in this story promotes or encourages real-life actions. This story has nothing to do with legal or illegal matters. IT’S ONLY FOR ENTERTAINMENT.

WARNING ⚠️: If polygamy (a man having two wives) triggers you, then this story is not for you.

If you still choose to read it, don’t blame me or drag me into your comments. You may share your opinion about the characters, not about me. I will delete hate comments directed at me. Don’t dare bring religion into this. It’s purely fiction. If you are that sensitive, I REPEAT AND REQUEST you please don’t read it.

I have warned you; now it’s up to you. Just because you cannot handle this type of story doesn’t mean no one else should write it. It’s not in your control what authors write. What is in your control is choosing not to read it and avoiding disturbance to your mental peace. Many will understand and either love or hate this story with maturity, which will be highly appreciated.

Don’t disrespect the author or religion. I will delete hate comments or block you.

THIS IS A FICTION STORY, SO LET IT REMAIN THAT WAY. I WILL NOT DELETE OR CHANGE ANYTHING. DEAL WITH IT OR LEAVE IT. IT’S UP TO YOU.

And one more thing:

THIS IS MY STORY. I WILL WRITE AND CREATE IT HOWEVER I WANT.

Love you all ❤

"Mai bhale hi sirf tumhara nahi hun, par tum sirf meri ho. SIRF. MERI. Mrs. Isha Arshad Malik."

(I may not only be yours, but you are mine. Only mine. Mrs. Isha Arshad Malik.)

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Isha’s POV

“Please trust me, Amma Jaan… I… I didn’t do any… anything wron… wrong…”

“You bitch!” Sofia Baji grabbed my hair, making me scream in pain. “You homewrecker. GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE!” Saying this, she pushed me toward the door.

I was about to hit the floor badly, but before I could fall, someone came in front of me. Instead of landing on the hard ground, I collapsed into that person’s arms.

In no time, I sensed who it was. His familiar scent was enough for me to know. I looked up with tear-filled eyes and saw him staring at me wide-eyed and shocked.

“Arsh…” A whisper escaped my trembling lips along with a flood of tears. He was looking at my bruises—my temple, my lips, my cheeks—everywhere was aching. When his fingers gently touched the corner of my lips, where blood was oozing, I felt his body go rigid. His hands began trembling with fury.

The look of shock in his eyes was instantly replaced by pure rage. His eyes turned red, his face hardened, and his jaw clenched so tightly that for a second I thought he was someone else. But when he pulled me close and held me tightly, I knew he was my Arsh—my protector, my savior. I buried myself in his embrace, hiding from this cruel world.

“What the hell, bitch! Stay away from my husband! I said GET LOST from here! Amar, drag this slut out of my house!”

Sofia Baji’s scream made me instantly tremble with fear. I clung to Arshad tightly, shaking my head repeatedly, while his hold around me grew even stronger.

“STAY. WHERE. YOU. ARE. AMAR! Ab ek kadam bhi kisi ne iski taraf badhaya, to is pure ghar ko aag laga dunga main.”

(If any of you take a single step toward her, I will burn this whole house to ashes.)

Arshad’s voice was low and dangerously calm, sending chills down my spine. I had never seen this side of him before. Though I couldn’t see his face, the deadly tone in his words told me he meant every single one of them.

“Arshad! For this whore you…” Sofia Baji kept yelling, but he cut her off—and what he said next froze everyone in the room, including me. His voice thundered, echoing against the walls.

“WIFE!!! SHE. IS. MY. WIFE!”

The room fell into complete silence.

After two long years, he had finally accepted me. After two years, he revealed to the world that I was his wife. Our secret marriage was no longer hidden—it was out.

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Background

Isha Abdul—a beautiful 17-year-old girl, born into a small village where girls were treated like trash. She lost her mother at birth. Her father, hoping to give his daughter a mother’s love, remarried. But fate only gave Isha a witch disguised as a mother.

When she was 12, she lost her father too, and her stepmother turned her life into a living hell.

Arshad Malik—a handsome, kind 25-year-old man. A happily married man, deeply in love with his wife. He had married his college sweetheart at the age of 23.

Arshad lived in Dubai with his wife because of his business. But when they both returned to their hometown for work, destiny took a cruel turn—leading Arshad to marry Isha.

So how did they end up married? And how will they keep their marriage hidden from the world?

★★★★