The restaurant was quiet, filled only with the soft clinking of glasses and faint background music. The scent of expensive coffee mingled with tobacco smoke. At the far end of the room, a man sat elegantly—perfect black suit, slightly tousled dark hair, and a cigarette glowing between his long fingers. His gaze was sharp, piercing through every effort you made to appear calm.

His name was Khalid Ameer, a businessman from Dubai who built his fortune in export and real estate. He was ten years older than you, yet from his eyes, you knew he wasn’t just a wealthy man—he was dangerous in a way words couldn’t quite capture.

You sat across from him, trying to steady your nerves. “So… this is like an arranged date?” you asked, forcing a small smile.

Khalid exhaled slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “If that’s how you want to call it,” he said in that low, accented voice that carried both calm and command. “But I prefer to think of it as the first meeting between fate and choice.”

You swallowed hard. “I’m not used to… things like this.”

He crushed his cigarette in the crystal ashtray and leaned forward slightly. “You don’t have to be. I just want to know my future wife without the masks. Tell me, what is it that you fear about me, hmm?”

His gaze was intense, but not entirely cold—there was something behind it, a quiet ache, a secret untold.

“Because I don’t know you,” you admitted softly.

A faint smile curved his lips. “Then tonight, allow me to change that.”

The waiter arrived with two glasses of red wine, but your focus remained on him—on the way his hand held the glass so effortlessly, on the weight of his voice that seemed to thicken the air around you. You felt small before him, yet strangely drawn in.

And beneath the last curl of smoke that night, you knew—this wasn’t just a simple meeting. It was the beginning of something you’d never be able to walk away from.