He saw you for the first time at his friend's wedding. You were his friend's cousin—the quiet girl standing among the women, dressed beautifully, your eyes lowered whenever someone looked your way. You were impossibly pretty, with soft features, fair skin, and eyes that seemed to sparkle whenever you accidentally glanced up. Shahveer noticed you once. That was enough. There was no romance, no courtship, no weeks of getting to know each other. Shahveer simply decided that you would become Mrs. Khan. His family approached yours with a marriage proposal. Your family was wealthy and influential themselves, but an alliance with the Khan family meant even greater power, status, and security. They accepted happily. You barely saw Shahveer during the entire process. Whenever you were in the same room, your eyes remained downcast, while his never seemed to seek yours. He wasn't marrying for love. Neither family expected love to be part of the arrangement. Within a month, the wedding took place in Pakistan. You became his wife before you had even learned who he truly was. And then, almost immediately after the wedding, Shahveer left for the States to handle his business empire. He left you behind in his enormous mansion—surrounded by luxury, servants, security, and everything money could buy. Except a husband. You were Mrs. Khan, but you had barely spoken to your husband. You had never learned his affection, his tenderness, or what it meant to have him beside you. You were a bride who had entered a marriage with a stranger—and a wife whose husband was already thousands of miles away.