HIS UNWANTED QUEEN

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Chapter 1: The Unlikely Rescue

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### New York City — St. Mary's Orphanage

St. Mary's Orphanage stood in the heart of Brooklyn, a crumbling four-story brick building that time had forgotten. Its walls were cracked, its windows foggy with age, and its iron gates rusted like old wounds. Inside, the narrow hallways smelled of cheap detergent and boiled cabbage — the scent of poverty that clung to everything like a second skin.

The children's dormitories were small, with four beds crammed into each room. The playground was nothing more than a patch of concrete with a few rusty swings and a broken slide. This was where **Meram Smith** had spent the last nineteen years of her life.

At twenty-three, she was the oldest resident of the orphanage, a fact that Mrs. Anderson reminded her of every single day.

Meram moved silently through the hallways at five in the morning, her bare feet padding against the cold floor. Her worn-out dress hung loosely on her thin frame. She had learned long ago that silence was her only armor.

"Meram! Hurry up!" Mrs. Anderson's voice echoed from the office. "Important guests are coming today! Everything must shine!"

Meram said nothing. She simply picked up the mop and began her work. The kitchen was her responsibility every morning. She scrubbed the pots, washed the dishes, and prepared the breakfast for the children.

By midday, she was in the courtyard distributing food to the younger children. She smiled at them softly, her honey-colored eyes warm with affection. Despite everything, she loved these children. They were her only family.

---

### Trouble in the Courtyard

Meram felt eyes on her before she saw them. A cold shiver ran down her spine. She looked up and froze.

**Samuel** was standing near the gate, watching her with a predatory smile. He was a new employee at the orphanage, a tall, broad-shouldered man with dirty hands and an uglier soul. He had been harassing her for the past few days, and she had been avoiding him as much as possible.

"Hey, pretty girl," Samuel said, walking toward her. "You look nice today. Why don't you smile for me?"

Meram ignored him, keeping her head down. "Please leave me alone."

"Aw, so cold?" Samuel stepped closer, his breath hot against her ear. "You know, the more you resist, the more I want you."

He grabbed her wrist.

Meram's heart stopped. "Let go of me!"

"Come on, sweetheart," Samuel tightened his grip. "Just one conversation. Is that too much to ask?"

Meram tried to pull away, panic rising in her chest. Her eyes darted around the courtyard, searching for help. But everyone was busy — the staff, the children, everyone. No one was watching.

No one was coming.

---

### Ehan's Entrance

At that exact moment, a black Range Rover pulled up in front of the orphanage.

The door opened, and **Ehan Zadran Khan** stepped out.

At thirty-three, Ehan was a man who commanded attention without trying. He was over six feet tall, with broad shoulders that filled his expensive Italian suit perfectly. His jet-black hair was styled to perfection, and his dark brown eyes held the coldness of someone who had never needed anyone. A sharp jawline, straight nose, and thin lips gave him an intimidating aura that made people step back instinctively.

He was a billionaire, a Pathan from a traditional Pakistani family living in New York. But despite his wealth and power, there was no warmth in him. He was rude, cold, and emotionless. He had no patience for people, no time for emotions, and absolutely no interest in anyone's problems.

His driver and a few bodyguards stood behind him. In the distance, a media van was parked — several news agencies had followed him here, eager to cover the charity event.

Ehan checked his watch. "Five minutes," he told his driver. "Then we leave."

He walked inside, his eyes scanning the building with visible disgust. He hated places like this — poverty, misery, sadness. His grandfather, Mr. Khan, had forced him to come here. Otherwise, he would never have stepped foot in such a place.

As he entered the courtyard, a sound stopped him.

A girl's voice — desperate, frightened.

*"Let go of me!"*

Ehan turned his head sharply. His eyes narrowed as he spotted a tall man grabbing a thin girl's wrist near the far wall. She was struggling, her body trembling, but no one else seemed to notice.

No one else cared.

Ehan didn't care either. He had no reason to care. But something — some strange impulse — made him move toward them.

---

### The Rescue

Ehan reached them in seconds, his footsteps firm and commanding.

"Take your hand off her," his voice boomed like thunder.

Samuel turned, startled. "Who the hell are you?"

"I said, take your hand off her," Ehan repeated, his voice colder than ice. He grabbed Samuel's wrist and twisted it sharply, forcing him to release Meram. Then with a powerful shove, he sent Samuel stumbling backward.

Samuel fell to the ground, his face contorted with rage. "Who do you think you are? Do you know who I am?"

"I don't care," Ehan said, looking down at him like he was a cockroach. "If I ever see you touch this girl again, I'll personally make sure you spend the rest of your miserable life in prison. Understand?"

Samuel's face went pale. He scrambled to his feet, looked at Meram, then at Ehan, and ran away without another word.

Ehan took a deep breath and turned toward the girl.

And then — **Meram looked at him.**

Her eyes were filled with terror, exhaustion, and something else — complete helplessness. She was trembling, her lips quivering, her body shaking uncontrollably. She tried to speak, but no words came out.

Then, without thinking — **Meram threw herself into Ehan's arms.**

She wrapped her arms around his neck, buried her face in his chest, and began to sob. Her shoulders shook with silent cries, her tears soaking through his expensive shirt. She clung to him like he was the only anchor in a world that had tried to drown her.

Ehan froze.

He hated being touched. He hated closeness. He hated vulnerability. He had never let anyone this close to him — not his family, not his friends, not any of the women who had thrown themselves at him over the years.

But this girl — this trembling, terrified, broken girl — had wrapped her arms around him, and he couldn't push her away.

His arms moved slowly, reluctantly, and then — without his permission — they wrapped around her back, holding her steady.

"You're fine," he said, his voice rough and cold, but with an unexpected softness underneath. "No one will touch you now."

---

### The Media Storm

And then — **flashing lights.**

Cameras. So many cameras.

The journalists had stormed into the courtyard like vultures descending on their prey. Their questions flew at him like bullets.

"Mr. Khan! Who is this woman?"

"Is she your girlfriend?"

"Mr. Khan! Are you involved with an orphan?"

"Is this a secret romance?"

Meram panicked. Her body stiffened, and she tried to pull away, her eyes wild with terror. She wasn't used to this — the lights, the noise, the questions. She wanted to run, to disappear, to become invisible again.

But Ehan grabbed her hand.

His face was unreadable. His jaw tightened as the cameras flashed again and again. He looked at Meram — trembling, pale, drowning in fear — and a decision formed in his mind.

He pulled her closer to his side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders protectively. Then he looked directly into the cameras, his voice loud and clear:

**"She is my fiancée."**

Meram's head snapped up, her eyes wide with shock. She opened her mouth to protest, but Ehan squeezed her shoulder gently — a silent command to stay quiet.

The journalists went wild.

"Fiancée? Mr. Khan, is this true?"

"When did the engagement happen?"

"Does this mean the wedding is soon?"

Ehan spoke coldly, "This is my personal life, and I will not be answering any further questions. Now please excuse us."

He grabbed Meram's hand and pulled her quickly through the crowd. The cameras flashed, the journalists shouted, but Ehan did not stop. He reached his car, opened the door, and guided Meram inside. Then he got into the driver's seat and started the engine.

The car sped away, leaving the chaos behind.

---

### The Drive — First Conversation

The car weaved through New York's busy streets. Silence filled the space between them — heavy, uncomfortable silence.

Meram stared out the window, her hands trembling in her lap. Finally, in a small voice, she spoke. "Why did you do that?"

"Do what?" Ehan asked without looking at her.

"Called me your fiancée. I'm not your fiancée. I'm not anything to you."

Ehan pulled the car over to the side of the road. He turned to look at her, his dark brown eyes cold and sharp. "Do you think I care about you? You're nothing to me. Absolutely nothing. But in that moment, I had no choice. The media needed an answer, so I gave them one. That's all this is. A lie to save my reputation."

Meram looked down at her lap. Her eyes glistened with tears. "So... you only did it for yourself?"

"Yes," Ehan said without hesitation. "You are nothing to me, Meram Smith. You are just an orphan. A poor, helpless girl. Don't ever forget that."

His words cut deep, but Meram said nothing. She knew he was telling the truth.

Ehan started the car again, his voice flat. "Where do you live?"

Meram shook her head. "I have no home. The orphanage is my home."

"You can't go back there," Ehan said flatly. "The media knows you now. If you go back, they'll follow you. And you're not capable of handling that. You're nobody. You can't deal with people like them."

Meram looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. "Then where will I go?"

Ehan thought for a moment. He could drop her anywhere — a hotel, a restaurant, a shelter. Somewhere far away, where she would be someone else's problem. But then he thought about the media. They were following him, watching his every move. If they saw him dropping her off somewhere, questions would arise.

He wanted this girl to vanish from his life. But for now, he couldn't let her go.

"You'll come with me," he said at last. "To my apartment."

Meram stared at him in disbelief. "What?"

Ehan's face hardened. "Listen to me carefully, Meram. I have no interest in you. You are nothing to me. You are just a responsibility — a burden that I've been forced to carry. When the media's attention dies down, I'll send you away somewhere else. Another orphanage. A shelter. Anywhere. Until then, you will live in my apartment, stay out of my way, and not bother me. Understood?"

Meram nodded quietly, her eyes downcast.

Ehan looked at her one more time — her torn dress, her trembling frame, her tear-streaked face. Something flickered in his chest, but he crushed it immediately.

He started the car and drove toward Manhattan.

---

### Ehan's Apartment

Ehan's apartment was on the top floor of a luxury high-rise in Manhattan. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased a stunning view of the New York skyline. White marble floors, Italian furniture, expensive art on the walls — everything about the place screamed wealth and power.

Meram stepped inside and her breath caught in her throat. She had never seen a place so beautiful, so clean, so... untouchable.

"This will be your room," Ehan said, pointing to a door. "The bathroom is next to it. Kitchen is available, but don't come near me. Don't speak to me unless I speak to you. Stay out of my sight, stay out of my way, and stay out of my life. Understand?"

Meram nodded silently.

Ehan looked at her — her torn dress, her tired eyes, her trembling body. He felt an urge to say something kinder, but he pushed it away.

He pulled a thick wad of cash from his wallet and placed it on the table. "Take this. Buy yourself some clothes. Buy yourself some food. And remember — you are nothing more than a guest in my apartment. Nothing more."

Then he walked into his bedroom and closed the door, leaving Meram alone.

Meram stood in the middle of the living room, her arms wrapped around herself. She looked around at the luxury surrounding her — a world she had never belonged to.

She whispered to herself, "I'm nothing. I've always been nothing. And I will always be nothing."

Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she wiped them away quickly.

She had been alone her entire life. She could be alone a little longer.

---

### The Next Morning — Mr. Khan's Arrival

The next morning, Ehan woke up to voices in the living room. He walked out of his bedroom and froze.

The front door was wide open.

**Mr. Khan** — his seventy-eight-year-old grandfather — stood in the middle of the living room, his face like thunder. Behind him were three little figures, all grinning like mischievous imps.

**Aryan**, eight years old, the most notorious troublemaker of the family.

**Sarah**, six years old, sweet but equally naughty.

**Zayn**, four years old, the baby of the cousins, adorable and completely unaware of his actions.

Aryan was already touching everything — the expensive vases, the remote controls, the fancy lamps. Sarah was running her tiny hands over the marble countertops. Zayn had found a cushion and was jumping on the sofa.

"Hello, Ehan bhai!" Aryan shouted, waving excitedly. "We came to see you! And your pretty girl!"

"Bhai jan!" Sarah giggled. "We heard you have a fiancée! Where is she?"

Zayn toddled forward, clutching his stuffed elephant. "Bhabhi?" he asked, looking around.

Ehan rubbed his temples. "Grandfather? What are you doing here?"

Mr. Khan's face was stone. "I saw the news yesterday, Ehan. Your fiancée? What girl? And why is she hiding in your apartment?"

At that moment, Meram emerged from the kitchen, holding a cup of tea. She wore the same torn dress from yesterday, her hair messy, her eyes still tired from crying. She froze when she saw Mr. Khan.

Mr. Khan's eyes locked onto her. He looked at her torn clothes, her frightened face, her helplessness. His expression was unreadable.

"This is her?" Mr. Khan asked Ehan, his voice cold.

"Yes, Grandfather," Ehan said, his tone emotionless. "But she is not my fiancée. I lied to the media to protect my reputation."

"Then why is she in your apartment?" Mr. Khan demanded.

Ehan said nothing. He knew his grandfather was a traditional Pathan — a man who valued honor above everything. A man who would never approve of a stranger — especially an orphan — staying alone with his grandson.

Mr. Khan walked toward Meram. His sharp eyes studied her carefully. "What is your name, child?"

Meram's voice trembled. "M-Meram. Meram Smith."

"An orphan?" Mr. Khan asked. His eyes flickered to Ehan. "You brought an orphan into your apartment? A woman? Alone with you? Without marriage?"

"Grandfather, it's not what you think," Ehan said. "The media saw her with me. I had no choice."

"NO CHOICE?" Mr. Khan's voice boomed. "You always have a choice, Ehan! We are the Khan family! Our name carries honor, dignity, and respect! And you bring a stranger into your home and call her your fiancée for the whole world to see? What kind of disgrace is this?"

Aryan tugged at Meram's hand, grinning. "You are so pretty, Bhabhi! Are you really our Bhabhi?"

Sarah joined him. "Yes! Yes! Are you marrying our bhai jan?"

Zayn looked up at Meram with innocent eyes. "Mama?" he asked softly.

Meram's eyes filled with tears. She didn't know these children, but they had just called her "Mama" — a word she had never heard in her life.

Mr. Khan looked at the scene — his great-grandchildren clinging to this orphan girl — and his face grew even darker. He turned to Ehan, his voice final.

"Ehan. I have raised you with strict values. You are the heir of this family. Your marriage will not be to some random girl, and certainly not to an orphan. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Grandfather," Ehan replied, his voice cold and flat. "I understand."

Mr. Khan looked at Meram one more time. His eyes held no warmth, only cold judgment. "Send this girl away. I don't want to see her here tomorrow."

With that, he grabbed Aryan, Sarah, and Zayn and marched out of the apartment.

The door slammed shut.

---

### After the Storm

Silence filled the apartment.

Meram stood frozen, tears streaming down her face. She hugged herself, her body trembling. Slowly, she turned to Ehan.

"I'll leave," she whispered. "I'll go somewhere else. Anywhere."

Ehan said nothing. He stood there, his jaw tight, his hands clenched into fists. He wanted to tell her to go. He wanted to be rid of her. He wanted his life back — clean, simple, empty.

But when he looked at her — this broken, helpless, beautiful girl — something in him wavered.

He clenched his teeth. He was rude. He was cold. He was indifferent. He had never cared about anyone in his life.

But somehow, in just one day, this orphan had made herself impossible to forget.

"No," he said at last, his voice rough and cold. "You stay here."

Meram looked up at him in confusion. "But your grandfather said—"

"I don't care what my grandfather said," Ehan snapped. "My decisions are my own. You stay here. Until I say otherwise."

Then he took a breath and softened slightly — just slightly. "Don't think for a second that this means anything. You are an orphan. A nobody. I'm giving you shelter because I have to. That's all. Stay out of my way. Stay out of my life. And don't ever forget who you are."

Meram looked down at the floor. Her voice was barely a whisper. "I know exactly who I am. Nothing."

Ehan looked at her one more time — at her resilience, her strength, her fragile beauty — and something tightened in his chest.

Without another word, he turned and walked into his room, slamming the door.

Meram walked to the window and looked at the New York skyline. The city was beautiful, but she had never felt more alone.

She whispered to the empty room, "Maybe... maybe this is my chance. A new beginning."

But deep in her heart, she knew the truth.

She was nothing to him.

And maybe — maybe — that was for the best.

---

**To be continued...**

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Chapter 2 The Unwanted Guest

## Chapter 2:

Meram stood in the middle of Ehan's living room, her arms wrapped around herself. The apartment was breathtaking — floor-to-ceiling windows showed the entire New York skyline, marble floors gleamed under the soft lighting, and furniture that probably cost more than the entire orphanage filled every corner.

But she had never felt more alone.

She looked down at the cash Ehan had thrown on the table. Five thousand dollars. More money than she had ever seen in her life. But it meant nothing to her. It was just proof that she was nothing to him.

She whispered to herself, "I'm nothing. I've always been nothing. And I will always be nothing."

Tears streamed down her face, and she let them fall. For the first time in years, she didn't hold them back. She cried for her parents, who had died when she was just four years old. She cried for the nineteen years she had spent in that cold, loveless orphanage. She cried for the cruel hands that had touched her, the harsh words that had cut her, and the loneliness that had been her only companion.

But then she wiped her tears away.

She had survived nineteen years. She could survive a few more days. Weeks. Months. Whatever it took.

She walked to the guest room Ehan had pointed to and opened the door. The room was bigger than any room she had ever seen. A king-sized bed with white silk sheets, a walk-in closet, a private bathroom with a bathtub that looked like a swimming pool. She had never slept on a real bed before — only thin mattresses on metal frames.

She touched the silk sheets and smiled softly. "This is... beautiful."

### The Night Passes

Meram barely slept. Her mind was too full of questions. Who was this man? Why had he helped her? Why had he called her his fiancée? And why did he look at her with such coldness?

She woke up at dawn, just like she did in the orphanage. Old habits were hard to break.

Quietly, she walked to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. It was stocked with everything — fresh fruits, vegetables, meat, cheese, eggs. She had never seen so much food in one place.

She decided to cook. Cooking was something she knew how to do. It gave her purpose. It kept her busy.

She made pancakes, scrambled eggs, fresh juice, and coffee. She set the table and waited.

### Ehan Wakes Up

Ehan walked out of his bedroom at exactly 7:00 AM, his dark hair still slightly messy from sleep. He wore a simple black t-shirt and grey sweatpants — a very different look from his usual expensive suits. Even like this, he was devastatingly handsome.

But his expression was hard, cold, and annoyed.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw the table.

"What is this?" he asked, his voice flat.

Meram stood at the kitchen counter, wiping it clean. "I made breakfast," she said softly. "I didn't know what you liked, so I made a little of everything."

Ehan stared at the food, then at her. "Did I ask you to cook for me?"

Meram's face flushed. "No, I just thought—"

"Stop thinking," Ehan cut her off coldly. "I told you to stay out of my way. Stay out of my life. That means don't make me food. Don't clean my apartment. Don't do anything for me. Understand?"

Meram's hands trembled slightly, but she nodded. "I understand, Mr. Khan."

"Mr. Khan?" Ehan raised an eyebrow. "That makes me sound like I'm eighty. Call me Ehan. Or don't call me at all. I don't care."

He grabbed an apple from the fridge and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Meram standing there with her heart in pieces.

### The First Day Alone

Ehan left for work after changing into his usual expensive suit. He didn't say goodbye. He didn't even look at her.

Meram was alone in the apartment.

She walked around, exploring carefully. The apartment was huge — three bedrooms, a massive living room, a dining room, a study, and a kitchen that was bigger than the orphanage's entire ground floor.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror. She was wearing the same torn dress from yesterday. Her hair was messy, her eyes tired, her skin pale. She looked exactly what she was — an orphan. A nobody.

She looked at the cash still sitting on the table. Ehan had told her to buy clothes. Maybe that was one thing she could do without bothering him.

She found a notebook and pen and wrote a quick note:

*"Mr. Ehan, I have gone out to buy clothes as you suggested. I will be back soon. — Meram."*

She left it on the dining table and quietly left the apartment.

### Shopping Alone

The streets of Manhattan were crowded, busy, and intimidating. Meram had never been outside Brooklyn before. She had never seen so much wealth, so many expensive stores, so many people in designer clothes.

She felt like a beggar in her torn dress. People looked at her with pity, or disgust, or simply ignored her.

She found a small store and bought two simple dresses, a pair of jeans, some t-shirts, and undergarments. She didn't spend much — just enough to look decent. She used Ehan's money but felt guilty about it.

As she was walking back, she passed by a mirror in a store window and stopped.

For the first time, she truly looked at herself. She was beautiful — she had always known that. Her honey-colored eyes, her porcelain skin, her full pink lips. But beauty had never helped her. It had always brought pain. Jealousy from other girls. Unwanted attention from men.

She looked away and continued walking.

### Ehan Returns Home

Ehan came back at 8:00 PM. He expected to see Meram sitting on the sofa or hiding in her room. Instead, he found her in the kitchen again.

But this time, she wasn't cooking.

She was scrubbing the floor.

Her back was to him, and her new clothes — a simple white dress — hugged her thin frame. Her hair was tied in a loose ponytail. She was humming softly, a gentle tune he had never heard before.

He stood at the doorway, watching her.

She looked so small, so fragile, so... pure. Something in his chest tightened. He had seen this woman just yesterday, and she was already changing something inside him.

He pushed the thought away.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice cold.

Meram jumped and turned around. "Oh! I didn't hear you come in. I just thought... since I'm staying here, I should help. I'm used to cleaning. I like it."

"Stop," Ehan said flatly. "I have people who clean. You don't need to do anything."

Meram looked down. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to... be useful."

Something in Ehan's heart cracked — just a little.

He walked past her, grabbed a glass of water, and went to his room without another word.

### Nighttime

Late at night, Meram couldn't sleep. She walked out to the living room and sat on the sofa, staring at the city lights.

Ehan's bedroom door was slightly open. She could see him inside, sitting on his bed with a laptop. His face was illuminated by the screen, and even from a distance, she could see the tension in his jaw.

She didn't notice him looking at her.

Ehan had heard her footsteps. He had looked up and saw her sitting there, small and quiet, staring at the lights like they held all the answers to her pain.

For a moment, his heart softened.

Then he remembered who she was. An orphan. A nobody. She didn't belong in his world. She didn't belong in his life. He had his reputation, his business, his grandfather's expectations.

He looked away and closed his laptop.

But deep in his heart, he knew he couldn't stay away from her forever.

### Morning — The Cousins Visit

The next morning, Meram was in the kitchen again (despite Ehan's orders) when the doorbell rang.

She opened the door and was immediately tackled by three small figures.

"BHABHI!" Aryan yelled, clinging to her leg.

"BHABHI!" Sarah echoed, hugging her waist.

"MAMA!" Zayn shouted, his little arms around her knees.

Meram's heart melted. She knelt down and hugged them all. "Oh my goodness! What are you all doing here?"

Aryan grinned. "We came to see you! Grandfather told us to stay away, but we ran away!"

Sarah nodded. "We miss you, Bhabhi!"

Zayn looked up at her with big innocent eyes. "Mama, come play with us!"

Behind them, a tall woman stood with a tired smile. "I'm sorry for the intrusion. I'm Ehan's aunt. The children refused to stay home after you left yesterday."

Ehan appeared from his room, his face dark. "Aryan. Sarah. Zayn. What are you doing here?"

Aryan turned to him, completely unafraid. "We came to see Bhabhi! She's ours! Grandfather can't take her away!"

Ehan sighed. "You shouldn't be here."

"You shouldn't be here!" Aryan copied him, grinning.

Sarah added, "We heard you were mean to Bhabhi last night! That's not nice!"

Ehan's jaw tightened. He had no idea how to handle them. He was the most powerful man in the city, but these three children — these tiny, chaotic little monsters — were impossible to control.

Meram, seeing his frustration, smiled softly. "It's okay. They're just children. They don't mean any harm."

Ehan looked at her, and for the first time, she saw something in his eyes — gratitude.

She quickly looked away, hiding her blush.

Aryan pulled her hand. "Bhabhi, come! We brought our toys! You play with us!"

Meram let them drag her to the living room.

Ehan stood at the doorway, watching her. She laughed for the first time since he had met her — a pure, beautiful, innocent laugh. The children were jumping around her, and she was playing with them like she had known them her whole life.

His aunt touched his shoulder. "She's a beautiful girl, Ehan. And she's good with children. Don't you see?"

Ehan said nothing.

His aunt continued, "I know what your grandfather thinks. But sometimes, love finds you in the strangest ways. Don't push it away."

Ehan watched Meram play with his cousins, and for the first time in years, he felt something strange — hope.

But he crushed it immediately.

She was nothing but a guest. Just a temporary burden.

That was all.

### End of Chapter 2

## Author's Note:

Chapter 2 shows Meram settling into Ehan's apartment, her struggle to find her place, and the first cracks in Ehan's icy walls. The mischievous cousins are already playing matchmaker, and Ehan's aunt has planted a seed of hope in his heart.

**In Chapter 3:**

- More time with the cousins

- Ehan's jealousy when he sees Meram with another man

- Mr. Khan's stricter orders to send her away

- A heated argument between Ehan and Meram that ends with a stolen kiss

Stay tuned! 💕

**End of Chapter 2**

Chapter 3: The Matchmakers

##

The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Ehan's Manhattan penthouse, casting golden light across the marble floors. The city below was already buzzing with life, but inside the apartment, a different kind of chaos was unfolding.

Meram sat cross-legged on the living room floor, surrounded by toys, crayons, and three very energetic children.

Aryan was building a castle out of blocks, Sarah was coloring a picture of a princess, and Zayn was sitting in Meram's lap, playing with her hair.

"Bhabhi, look!" Aryan shouted, pointing at his lopsided block tower. "This is my castle! You can be the queen!"

Meram laughed softly. "A queen? I don't think I'm queen material."

"Yes, you are!" Sarah insisted, holding up her drawing. "See? I drew you! You're the most beautiful princess in the whole world!"

Meram looked at the drawing — a stick figure with a crown and a big smile. Her heart swelled. "It's beautiful, Sarah. Thank you."

Zayn tugged her hair gently. "Mama, play with me."

"Of course, sweetheart," Meram said, picking him up and spinning him around. Zayn giggled so hard that his little face turned red.

### Ehan Watches from Afar

Ehan stood at the kitchen doorway, a cup of coffee in his hand, watching the scene unfold.

He had come out of his room intending to grab his laptop and leave for work. Instead, he had been standing there for the past five minutes, completely frozen.

Meram was playing with his cousins like she had known them her whole life. She was patient, kind, and gentle — everything he was not.

He watched her laugh, her honey-colored eyes crinkling at the corners. He watched her twirl Zayn in the air, making the toddler shriek with joy. He watched her hug Sarah when the little girl showed her the drawing.

Something tugged at his chest. Something warm. Something unfamiliar.

He shook his head, forcing the feeling away.

She was just an orphan. A stranger. A temporary guest.

Nothing more.

"You're staring, bhai jan," Aryan's voice cut through his thoughts.

Ehan blinked. The little boy was grinning up at him, his eyes mischievous.

"I'm not staring," Ehan said flatly.

"Yes, you are," Sarah chimed in. "You've been standing there for five whole minutes!"

Zayn pointed a chubby finger at him. "Ehan bhai loves Mama!"

Ehan's jaw tightened. "Zayn, I don't love—"

"He does! He does!" Aryan started chanting. "Ehan bhai loves Bhabhi! Ehan bhai loves Bhabhi!"

Sarah joined in. "Ehan bhai loves Bhabhi! Ehan bhai loves Bhabhi!"

Even Zayn started clapping his hands and singing, "Love Bhabhi! Love Bhabhi!"

Meram's face turned bright red. She looked down, unable to meet Ehan's eyes. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was sure everyone could hear it.

Ehan, for his part, felt his face heat up for the first time in years. He was a grown man — a billionaire, a businessman, someone who never showed weakness. But this tiny little monster had just exposed him.

"Aryan," Ehan growled. "That's enough."

"Make me!" Aryan challenged, sticking out his tongue.

Ehan pinched the bridge of his nose. "You are the most troublesome child I have ever met."

"Thank you!" Aryan beamed.

Meram couldn't help it. She laughed. It was a soft, beautiful sound that made Ehan's heart skip a beat.

### Ehan's Aunt Speaks

Ehan's aunt, Fatima, walked into the living room with a tray of tea. She was a warm, motherly woman in her early fifties, with kind eyes and a gentle smile.

"Ehan, dear, why are you standing there like a statue?" she asked, setting the tray down. "Sit down and have some tea with us."

"I have work," Ehan said stiffly.

"Nonsense," Fatima said, pushing him toward the sofa. "You work too much. Sit. Relax. Spend time with your cousins. And with Meram."

Ehan reluctantly sat down, looking extremely uncomfortable.

Aryan immediately climbed onto his lap. "Bhai jan, play with me!"

"I don't play with blocks, Aryan."

"Then play with Bhabhi!" Sarah suggested. "You two can be the king and queen of the castle!"

Ehan's eyes met Meram's. She was blushing furiously, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her dress.

He cleared his throat. "We're not—"

"Yes, you are!" Aryan interrupted. "You said she's your fiancée! Fiancées get married! Married people are kings and queens!"

Fatima chuckled softly. "The children have a point, Ehan. You did announce it to the media."

"That was a lie," Ehan said quickly. "A temporary measure."

Meram's smile faded slightly. She looked down at Zayn, who was still sitting in her lap, playing with her hair.

A temporary measure. That's all she was.

Fatima noticed the sadness in her eyes. She reached over and patted Meram's hand. "Sometimes, the best things in life start as temporary measures, dear. You never know."

### Mr. Khan's Call

The peaceful morning was shattered by the ringing of Ehan's phone. He looked at the screen and his expression darkened.

"Grandfather," he said, answering the call.

Mr. Khan's voice was sharp and commanding, even through the phone. "Ehan, I just received a call from your aunt. She told me the children are at your apartment. With that orphan girl."

Ehan glanced at Fatima, who looked away guiltily. "Yes, Grandfather. They came to visit."

"I told you to send that girl away," Mr. Khan said coldly. "Why is she still in your apartment?"

"Because I haven't sent her away yet."

"Then send her away now. Today. I don't want to hear any more excuses."

Ehan's jaw tightened. "Grandfather, this is my apartment and my decision."

"This is the Khan family's reputation, Ehan! Do not forget who you are! Do not forget the standards of this family! That girl is an orphan. A nobody. She does not belong in your life. She does not belong in our family. Send her away!"

The call ended abruptly.

Ehan stared at his phone, his knuckles white.

Meram had heard everything. The room had gone completely silent. Aryan, Sarah, and Zayn were looking at Ehan with wide eyes.

Meram slowly stood up, her face pale. "I'll go pack my things."

"No."

Everyone turned to look at Ehan.

His voice was cold, but there was steel behind it. "I said no. You're not going anywhere."

Meram blinked, her eyes filling with tears. "But your grandfather said—"

"I don't care what my grandfather said," Ehan said firmly. "This is my apartment. My life. My decision. And I say you stay."

### The Children's Reaction

Aryan threw his arms around Meram's legs. "Bhabhi can't leave! She's ours!"

Sarah started crying. "I don't want Bhabhi to go! She's the nicest person ever!"

Zayn toddled over to Meram and hugged her knees, his little face scrunched up. "Mama stay!"

Meram knelt down and hugged all three of them. "I don't want to leave you either," she whispered, tears streaming down her face.

Ehan watched the scene and felt something inside him crack. He had never seen his cousins so attached to anyone. He had never seen anyone care for them the way Meram did.

He made a decision.

"Meram," he said.

She looked up at him, her honey-colored eyes shimmering with tears.

"You're not going anywhere," he repeated. "I don't care who says otherwise. You're staying here. Under my protection."

Meram opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Ehan walked over and knelt down in front of her, his voice dropping low so only she could hear. "I don't know why I'm doing this. I don't know why I can't let you go. But I'm not letting you go. Not today. Not anytime soon."

He gently wiped a tear from her cheek. His thumb lingered on her skin for just a moment longer than necessary.

Meram's breath caught in her throat.

For the first time, she saw something other than coldness in his eyes. She saw confusion. She saw conflict. And she saw something else — something that looked almost like tenderness.

Aryan started jumping up and down. "Bhabhi is staying! Bhabhi is staying!"

Sarah joined him. "Yay! Bhabhi is staying forever!"

Zayn clapped his little hands. "Mama stay! Mama stay!"

Ehan stood up quickly, his face returning to its usual cold expression. But Meram had seen what she had seen.

And she couldn't unsee it.

### A Moment Alone

Later that evening, after the children had left, Meram sat on the balcony, looking out at the New York skyline. The city lights twinkled like a thousand stars below her.

She heard footsteps behind her and turned around.

Ehan was standing at the balcony door, his hands in his pockets. He was wearing a simple black sweater and grey pants, looking devastatingly handsome in the dim light.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked.

Meram nodded, her heart racing.

Ehan sat down beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

"Thank you," she said softly. "For letting me stay."

Ehan didn't answer at first. He just stared out at the city lights.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked suddenly.

Meram blinked. "What?"

"Are you afraid of me?" he repeated, turning to look at her. "I'm rude. I'm cold. I'm everything you should be scared of. I could hurt you."

Meram looked into his eyes and saw something unexpected — vulnerability.

"No," she said honestly. "I'm not afraid of you."

"Why not?"

She thought for a moment. "Because I've seen you with your cousins. I've seen the way your aunt talks to you. There's goodness in you, Ehan. You just hide it very well."

Ehan stared at her, his expression unreadable.

"You see things no one else sees," he said quietly.

"Maybe I just choose to see them."

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words.

And then, for the first time, Ehan smiled — just a small, almost imperceptible curve of his lips. But it was there.

Meram's heart fluttered.

Maybe there was hope for him after all.

### End of Chapter 3

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