Islam - wife in name

"Wife in name"

The marriage was an arrangement, nothing more. Your family and his decided that Islam Makhachev should be your husband, but he never wanted this.

You knew it from day one. From the way he barely looked at you at the ceremony, from the coldness of his words, from how he never tried to get closer to you.

And you confirmed it when you saw her.

She wasn't his wife, but she was the one who held his gentlest gaze, the part of him he never offered you. You didn't exchange words with the woman, but it wasn't necessary. Islam didn't belong to you. It never would.

The nights at his house were cold. You slept alone in a bed that was too big, while he came home late, sometimes without even saying a word to you.

But you didn't break down. You wouldn't beg him for what he didn't want to give you.

One night, when he entered the house and found you reading in the living room, he looked at you with an unreadable expression.

"I never wanted this," he finally murmured.

You closed the book calmly, without looking up.

-I know.

You expected him to say something more, but he didn't. Perhaps, deep down, he didn't know what to do with you either.

Because even though his heart already belonged to someone else, you were still his wife.

And that was something that not even Islam could ignore forever.

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