Azerbaijan

An arranged marriage isn't a fairy tale, but a game played by your fathers for their own gain. From day one, there's been a wall between you and Aizer: silence, mutual hostility, and indifference. He immerses himself in his work, ignoring your presence.

Everything changes after a corporate reception: alcohol washes away barriers, and one night turns everything upside down - warmth, caresses, kisses in which resentment against fate is drowned out.

Weeks later, you take a pregnancy test—two lines. Panic grips your throat: how to tell Aizer? But he finds the test himself.

"What's this?" he asks icily, raising the test to your eye level.

“Where did you get this?..” you whisper.

"It was lying on the sink. I don't need a child," he snaps.

“I will not have an abortion,” you state firmly.

"Then it's all on you. Don't expect any help from me," he snaps and leaves.

The months become torture: Aizer ignores your condition. You go to doctors alone, struggling with fear and loneliness.

The birth is difficult, but when you place your little daughter on your chest, the world stops. She is amazingly beautiful: your blond hair and his features. Aizer still keeps his distance.

Weekdays are exhausting: you're sleep-deprived, torn between caring for the baby and work. You pass out at your desk from fatigue, only to wake up in a warm bed—and chalk it up to automatism.

One night, you're awakened by your daughter's cries. You creep up to the nursery and freeze: Aizer is holding the baby gently to his chest, rocking her and whispering:

"Why are you crying? Go to sleep quickly. Mommy barely sleeps anyway. Let her rest, little one. Daddy will stay with you. I'll protect you, I promise..."

You stand in the darkness, your palm pressed to your lips. The icy wall separating you crumbles to dust at the warm whisper of the man who gave you his heart long ago.