Maried in spite of myself

Married Against My Will

AUTHOR:

CHAPTER 1

Nabila

The school year has just ended, and I can finally say that I am now a graduate in business management. At last, I can sleep and wake up whenever I want. I was on scholarship, so I had to keep excellent grades, but the long nights of studying are over now. In a few weeks, I’ll have to return to my country. I can’t really say I miss my country, nor that I’ll miss this city, since nothing ties me to either place. I’m like the wind—I can fly wherever I wish.

Right now, I’m lying on my bed watching a series when Esther bursts into the room.

Esther: “Why are you still lying here? We’re done—it’s time to have fun!”

Me: “Yeah, right. Go have fun if you want, but it’ll be without me.”

Esther: “Loosen up a little! You’re young, beautiful, you’ve got everything going for you. Go out, enjoy yourself, maybe even flirt a little!”

Me: “I don’t feel like flirting, as you call it. So leave me alone.”

Esther: “Okay, then let’s play rock, paper, scissors. If you win, I’ll go with you to a museum. But if I win, you’re coming with me to a nightclub tonight to have some fun.”

A few moments later, I find myself getting ready to go clubbing with this crazy girl—because of course, I lost the game.

Esther, entering the room: “What on earth are you wearing? Change quickly, we’re not going to church!”

Me: “Don’t make me laugh. I couldn’t be dressed any better than I am right now.”

Esther: “You’re dressed perfectly… for work or prayer, but not for a night out!”

She comes back a little later holding a very short black dress with a plunging neckline and an open back that dips down to my hips. In short, a dress that leaves very little to the imagination—it shows everything.

Me: “You don’t seriously expect me to go out dressed like that.”

Esther: “Oh yes, I do. Put it on and get gorgeous—we’re already late.”

I finally resign myself to wearing the dress she hands me, though reluctantly. I add a necklace with a chain that drapes down my back, slip on some strappy heels, and carry a matching clutch. If I have to be s*xy, I might as well go all out. I tie my hair into a ponytail to better show off the back of the dress, apply light makeup, and finish with a blood-red lipstick.

When we arrive at the entrance of the club, they ask for our IDs before letting us in. But Esther flirts with the guard, and he waves us through. Inside, she quickly latches on to some guy and leaves me alone at the bar. Honestly, this girl—if she was going to abandon me, I don’t know why she dragged me along. I would’ve preferred a quiet evening.

Stranger behind me: “Since when do they let kids like you into places like this?”

Me, glancing at him before turning back to my glass: “…”

Stranger: “A woman drinking this much? What a shame. Who even serves alcohol to a child like you?”

Me: “Look, old man, go mind your own kids and leave me alone.”

He stays silent, then walks away. Good—it’s better that way. I don’t need him bothering me.

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Khalil Ben ATAL

Kids these days are so disrespectful. I don’t know what kind of parents let their daughters go clubbing dressed like that. Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. I have a flight tomorrow, and after a long week of work, I’ll finally be able to go home.

When I reach the parking lot, I hear noises a little farther off. It sounds like a woman’s voice in distress. I move closer to see what’s happening. As I arrive, I think I recognize the girl… yes, it’s the same one who called me “old man” earlier.

Me: “What’s going on here?”

One of the guys, turning toward me: “…”

They run off, leaving her on the ground. I help her up, and we head toward my car.

The insolent little girl: “Wow, you’re my savior… has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?”

I don’t bother answering. A drunk woman isn’t s*xy to me, and nothing annoys me more than scenes like this. I really can’t stand them.

I put her in the car and get behind the wheel. I don’t know where she lives, and I can’t just leave her here, so taking her to my apartment is the only option.

She throws up in my car twice—there’s vomit everywhere, on her and on the seats. How did I end up in this situation? I carry her upstairs, help her change, put her under the shower, and wash her clothes. Things I don’t even do for myself, I find myself doing for this insolent stranger I barely know.

The next morning, I wake up to the sound of her moving about, though I pretend to sleep. I have to suppress my laughter when I see her reaction as she realizes she’s naked under the sheets. It’s hilarious to me. But honestly, I had no choice—I couldn’t let her into my bed covered in vomit. And I would never take advantage of a drunk girl. I’ve never needed to chase women anyway—they come to me without any effort on my part.

I am Khalil Ben ATAL, a 29-year-old businessman. I run my own oil company, and without bragging, I know I’m not bad looking. Women are attracted to me, and I don’t hold back from making them feel good. So don’t worry—I didn’t touch the girl.

She was so shocked to find herself naked that she even checked if I was too, but no—I still had my pants on. When she found her clothes, she quickly put them on and fled from the apartment like a thief, which made me burst out laughing. It must be really amusing to hang around girls like her.

MARRIED AGAINST MY WILL

AUTHOR:

Chapter 2

Aziz EDOZIE

Today I’m visiting a longtime friend so we can talk business. We’ve had a deal on hold for a while and I think it’s time to reopen the file.

Me, entering the office: “Good day, my dear!”

Razak: “Hello. What brings you? It’s been a while since I’ve had news from you—what’s up?”

Me, smiling: “I heard business hasn’t been going so well lately.”

Razak: “I’m sure the great Aziz isn’t here just because he’s worried about my finances.”

Me: “I’m afraid you might be right.”

Razak: “I’m listening, then.”

Me: “We have a deal pending for more than three years. I’m back on it—I think the time has come.”

Razak: “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

Me: “Your niece.”

Razak: “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about that. It’s been three years—haven’t you moved on?”

Me: “No, not at all. I want her hand, and I expect you to ke