MARRIED TO MR. MAFIA

We should make dua and ask Allah to bless us with happiness, success and whatever is good. But if the opposite of what we expect comes true we have to learn to say Alhamdulillah and accept our fate. Surely Allah the All knowing, knows what’s best. To wish life to be any other way then it currently is, is foolish.  there’s no point to dwell on what could’ve been.

If you haven't prayed your Salah then please pray this book can wait but your Salah can't.

Happy reading...

Ayat’s POV

It was the middle of the night.

The kind of night where even the stars refused to shine. The moon looked dull… tired, almost as if it couldn’t bear to witness what had just happened.

I sat in the back of a luxury car, the leather cold against my skin. The silence was deafening, yet it screamed louder than my heart could take.

I was wearing Ammi’s bridal dress—soft beige, embroidered with years of love, folded carefully all my life for that one special day. She had always told me, “When you wear this, it’ll be the happiest day of your life.”

Lies.
Unintentional, but still… lies.

Tears slipped down my cheeks as the wind from the half-open window kissed my face, brushing against my ruined makeup and broken hope.

The world outside passed like a blur, and yet everything inside me moved in slow motion.

Ya Allah… why me?

What sin had I committed to be punished with a marriage I never asked for… a man whose name alone made people go silent?

Hadi Feroz.

The man who pulled the trigger without blinking.
The man who made even grown men stutter.
And now… the man who wore the ring meant for a lover, not a captor.

I tried to do everything right.
I respected others. I prayed. I smiled through pain. I forgave those who never deserved it.
So why does it feel like I'm being punished for simply… breathing?

I looked down at my hands, the delicate mehendi now a cage wrapped around trembling fingers.

No nikah announcement. No blessings. No smile. No dua. Just silence. A pen. And fear.

I closed my eyes, trying to block out the image of his icy stare, the voice that held no warmth, no emotion.

The car moved forward. My life moved backward.

And with a bitter smile, I whispered the only truth left to say—

"Yes… I am officially married to Mr. Mafia."

Flash back

“Ammi!” I rushed to her, grabbing her hands, breathless. “Ammi, I—I was kidnapped. I saw it with my own eyes! They killed Mrs. Ansari’s son. I saw the blood. I saw—”

Silence.

Too silent.

Why were they all looking at me like that? Stiff. Lifeless. Not a single reaction. Not even a gasp.

Something wasn’t right.

That’s when the chair turned.

My heart dropped.

There he sat, legs crossed, sleeves folded neatly, a gun resting on his lap like a casual accessory.

Hadi Feroz.