Chapter 5 5

Chapter 5

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Author's Voice

The black SUV rolled to a stately stop before Pratama Mansion-an edifice of marble and might, where every column proclaimed legacy and every gilded arch flaunted power.

Inside, two new prisoners of circumstance sat in tense silence: one bound by duty, the other by fear.

Beyond those gates, whispers of a silent bride and a shadowed heir would stir ancient loyalties and fresh rivalries...

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Alya's POV

My heart pounded as the car door opened, cold night air washing over me. My bridal lehenga-once soft ivory-felt like armor too tight, its weight magnified by every breath. I followed Reyhan's rigid form up the grand staircase, eyes fixed on the polished marble beneath my feet.

I dared not glance at the towering windows, the crystal chandeliers, or the stern portraits lining the walls. This was a world built for voices of influence, not for the silence I carried like a secret.

At the top of the steps, a royal tableau awaited.

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Family's Reaction

Dewi Pratama, regal in midnight blue, stood motionless-her question suspended between protocol and shock:

> "Reyhan... who is this?"

Reyhan's reply was like steel:

> "My wife."

Silence fractured into chaos.

Tari, the youngest sister, squealed,

> "Brother, a secret wedding? And we-his own sisters-weren't even invited?"

Nisa clasped her hands to her heart,

> "This is better than any drama series! Who is she? Where did you find her?"

Tay Ammi Linda stepped forward, gaze as sharp as her tongue,

> "Another clandestine bride. Reyhan Pratama, have you lost your mind? Explain yourself."

Reyhan stood unmoved. I felt the sharp sting of their stares, each glance a whisper of accusation and curiosity. My fingers trembled against my dupatta as they closed in around me.

Dewi raised a hand, silencing the storm.

> "Take her inside. She's exhausted."

Nisa offered a gentle smile:

> "Come, bhabi. Let me show you to your room."

Tari looped her arm through mine:

> "Welcome to the madhouse, sister-in-law. Hope you brought your sense of humor!"

They guided me through the hall-endless corridors of silk rugs and ancestral relics-until we reached a tall, carved door.

Nisa grinned:

> "Ready, bhabi? Once inside, there's no turning back."

Tari gasped theatrically:

> "Reyhan's room-the heart of the Pratama fortress. Watch your step!"

With a final push, they ushered me in and left, laughter trailing down the hall.

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Alya's POV

Silence reclaimed me as the door clicked shut. The room was vast and uncluttered: dark mahogany furniture, deep navy drapes, a king-sized bed made exactly to a soldier's standard. No pictures, no warmth-just the promise of isolation.

I stood motionless, the hush pressing against my skin. My breath sounded too loud in the void.

A soft hum from the air conditioner was the only company. My veil slipped from my face, revealing tear-streaked cheeks and wide, uncertain eyes.

Tentatively, I moved to the window. Silver moonlight pooled on the floor, and for a moment I closed my eyes and whispered a dua-my first prayer in this gilded cage.

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Reyhan's Entrance

The door opened. Reyhan entered, coat in hand, sleeves rolled up. He paused when he saw me-small and solemn in the half-light.

His lips parted, but no words came. He walked to the closet, as though unwilling to disturb the fragile spell of silence between us.

I lowered my gaze, throat tight. My heart ached with questions I could not voice.

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Author's Voice

In that quiet exchange-two silhouettes cast in moonlight-the mansion's grandeur faded. A silent bride and a reluctant groom stood on the brink of a darker alliance, bound by vows made in desperation.

Outside, unseen eyes watched and waited. Victor Arman's shadow moved through the city, plotting his next strike.

Inside, a fragile truce of silence had just begun.

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