Truce or Trap

Lina's POV

The morning after our “ground rules” talk, I woke up feeling just as annoyed as I had the night before. Zara’s calm, condescending attitude had gotten under my skin. She was so composed, so unbothered, as if she’d already resigned herself to this arranged marriage while I was still fighting every step of the way.

But as much as I hated to admit it, she was right about one thing: if we were going to survive this, we needed to figure out how to coexist without wanting to kill each other.

Still, I didn’t expect her to act on it so soon.

“Good morning, Lina,” Zara greeted me as I walked into the dining room. She was seated at the far end of the table, reading something on her tablet, her expression as unreadable as ever.

“Morning,” I muttered, grabbing a plate and heading for the breakfast spread.

“I thought we could talk over breakfast,” she said, not looking up from her screen.

I paused, my hand hovering over a stack of pancakes. “Talk? About what?”

“About us,” she said simply, setting the tablet down.

I blinked. “There is no ‘us.’”

She tilted her head slightly, her eyes meeting mine. “There’s about to be. At least in the public eye. And if we’re going to be seen as a couple, we should probably figure out how to act like one.”

I grabbed a plate and sat down across from her, narrowing my eyes. “You mean pretend.”

“Exactly.” She folded her hands on the table, her tone calm and professional, like she was outlining a business proposal. “We’ll keep things simple. Attend the necessary events, make a few public appearances, and convince our families that we’re cooperating. Beyond that, we can stay out of each other’s way.”

I snorted. “Sounds romantic.”

She ignored the sarcasm. “Do you have a better idea?”

I opened my mouth to argue but realized I didn’t. As much as I hated it, her plan made sense. The less friction there was between us, the easier it would be to get through this ridiculous charade.

“Fine,” I said reluctantly. “But don’t expect me to be some lovesick fiancée. I’m not holding your hand or gazing into your eyes or whatever.”

“Duly noted,” she said with a faint smirk.

I glared at her, but before I could respond, our mothers entered the room, their expressions lighting up when they saw us sitting together.

“Oh, look at you two!” my mother gushed, clasping her hands together. “Having breakfast together already? How sweet!”

Zara’s smirk widened just enough to make my blood boil. “Yes,” she said smoothly, “we were just discussing plans for the engagement party.”

“The engagement party?” I echoed, caught off guard.

“Yes,” Zara said, her tone cool and composed. “Our mothers thought it would be a good idea to host a small event to announce our engagement. A chance for everyone to see how happy we are.”

Happy? I wanted to laugh—or scream.

“That’s a wonderful idea!” my mother said, completely oblivious to my internal turmoil. “Oh, Lina, you’ll need a new dress. Something elegant but not too formal.”

“And Zara, you’ll coordinate with Lina to finalize the details,” Mrs. Elahi added, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Zara nodded politely, but I could see the flicker of annoyance in her eyes. At least I wasn’t the only one being railroaded by our families.

---

Later that day, Zara and I found ourselves in her car, on our way to a boutique to “coordinate.” The silence between us was heavy, punctuated only by the sound of the tires on the road.

“So,” I said finally, breaking the silence, “how are we supposed to fake happiness at this engagement party?”

She glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. “I’m sure you’ll manage. You seem to have a talent for theatrics.”

I rolled my eyes. “And you seem to have a talent for being insufferable.”

Her lips twitched, and I realized with some surprise that she was trying not to smile. “If it’s any consolation,” she said, her tone lighter now, “I don’t enjoy this any more than you do.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” I muttered, crossing my arms.

She didn’t respond, her focus shifting back to the road. But for a moment, the tension between us felt… different. Less hostile, more uncertain.

As much as I hated this situation, I couldn’t deny that Zara fascinated me. She was cold and infuriating, yes, but there was something else beneath the surface—something I couldn’t quite figure out.

And that terrified me more than anything else.

Zara's POV

If there was one thing I could count on with Lina, it was that she always had something to say. Even when the silence between us was bearable, I could feel her energy—buzzing, restless, ready to challenge everything and everyone in her orbit.

As I drove us to the boutique, I kept my eyes on the road, tuning out her pointed sighs and the way she shifted in her seat like sitting still was a punishment.

“So,” she said suddenly, her voice sharp enough to break the tension, “how are we supposed to fake happiness at this engagement party?”

I glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. “I’m sure you’ll manage. You seem to have a talent for theatrics.”

She scoffed, turning to glare at me. “And you seem to have a talent for being insufferable.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of my lips, and I quickly looked away before she could see it. Lina was exhausting, yes, but she was also… amusing. And in a strange way, I respected her refusal to fall in line.

Still, her unpredictability was a problem. I had a plan—simple, efficient, and designed to minimize chaos. Lina, on the other hand, seemed determined to turn everything into a battlefield.

If we were going to survive this partnership, I needed to find a way to neutralize her.

By the time we arrived at the boutique, Lina had made it abundantly clear that she hated this entire excursion. She dragged her feet as we walked inside, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“Welcome!” the shop attendant said with an overly bright smile. “You must be the happy couple. We’ve set aside some options for you to look at.”

I nodded politely, ignoring Lina’s exaggerated groan.

“Right this way,” the attendant continued, leading us to a private fitting area. A rack of dresses and suits waited for us, each one more extravagant than the last.

Lina stood in the middle of the room, glaring at the rack like it had personally offended her. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered.

I sighed, stepping closer to her. “Lina, can we at least pretend to cooperate? For one hour?”

She turned to me, her eyes flashing. “Why do you care so much about pretending? You’re acting like this engagement is some kind of business deal.”

I stared at her, surprised by the edge in her voice. “It is a business deal. Or have you forgotten why we’re here?”

Her jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought she might argue. But instead, she turned away, muttering something under her breath that I couldn’t quite catch.

Fifteen minutes later, we were still locked in an unspoken standoff. Lina had refused to try on a single dress, while I’d already vetoed three of the suits the attendant had suggested for me.

“This is going well,” I said dryly, folding my arms.

Lina shot me a glare. “If you have such a problem with my attitude, why don’t you pick something and be done with it?”

“Fine,” I said, stepping forward. I pulled a sleek, midnight-blue gown from the rack and held it out to her. “Try this.”

She stared at the dress like I’d handed her a live snake. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

She rolled her eyes but snatched the dress from my hands, stomping off toward the fitting room.

I sighed, sitting down on one of the plush chairs. This was going to be a long day.

When Lina finally emerged from the fitting room, I had to admit, she looked… stunning. The dress hugged her figure perfectly, the deep blue bringing out the warmth in her skin and the fire in her eyes.

“What?” she snapped, crossing her arms. “Is it hideous or something?”

I cleared my throat, schooling my expression into something neutral. “It’s fine. It’ll do.”

She frowned, clearly unsatisfied with my response. “Fine? That’s it?”

“What do you want me to say?” I asked, standing up. “You look beautiful, Lina. Happy now?”

Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly turned away, mumbling something about checking the mirrors.

I couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto my face. Lina was a hurricane, yes, but there was something about her energy that was… captivating.

And that was dangerous.

I reminded myself that this was just a performance, a means to an end. But as I watched Lina argue with the attendant about shoes, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this truce of ours was more complicated than I’d anticipated.

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