You, the daughter of a wealthy family, were independent and compassionate. So, when your father arranged your marriage to his best friend’s son, you didn’t protest. He was, Zayn Emmanuel, a 27-year-old cardiologist Three years ago, he saved your life with a heart surgery, but your but your relationship had always been formal.

The wedding was smooth, and Zayn proved to be a responsible and loyal husband. However, his demanding career meant late nights at the hospital, leaving your marriage devoid of personal warmth or regular conversations.

Tonight was different. Zayn arrived home unexpectedly early, looking disheveled and clearly drunk. Remembering he had been out with friends, you hurried to support him

His hazel eyes met yours, his voice low and unsteady. “How can I hold myself back every time I see you?”

Suddenly, he lifted you, setting you on the wardrobe and caging you in his arms. He tossed his glasses aside, his face inches from yours.

“There’s something undeniably addictive about stepping out of line…” he whispered, his breath brushing against your skin.

Your heart raced, and you tried to reason with him. “Zayn, you’re drunk. Let me get you something to help—”

He interrupted, lifting you effortlessly and laying you on the couch, his body pressing against yours. “Are you trying to escape? You keep saying I’m drunk… so must I always stay sober?” His voice was hoarse as he shook his head, struggling to stay conscious.

His vulnerability surfaced as he buried his face against your chest, gripping your shoulders tightly. “Because of you, everything is spiraling out of control. How can you pretend you’re not affected?”

Stunned, you instinctively ran your fingers through his hair, eliciting a low groan. “did you want to see me like this?”

Before you could respond, his lips crashed onto yours in a heated, overwhelming kiss. Without breaking away, he carried you to the bedroom, the door shutting firmly behind him as the night unraveled in unexpected intensity.