All Chapters of Vows Written In Silence : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The marriage had been arranged to prevent a war. It wasn’t supposed to start one. Bang. The sound didn’t just hit the plaster. It split the air between them. Raiyan’s fist was still in the wall. Knuckles white. Blood sliding down his fingers, warm at first, then sticky. He didn’t feel it. Behind him, Zoya didn’t move. No scream. No slap. No what are you doing? Just stillness so heavy it made his skin crawl. “Zoya.” His voice came out ruined. Nothing. He turned halfway. She stood near the bed, the dim light catching the tear in her gown—one shoulder slipping, skin exposed where his hands had been. Her hair was down, messy from him. Her arms hung at her sides like they weren’t hers. Her eyes were open. Tears kept falling. Silent. His heart ached so bad, he wanted to wipe her tears, He took a step toward her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” She didn’t blink. Didn’t wipe her face. That scared him more than the wall, more than the blood, more than the

Raiyan came home late in the morning. The driveway was empty. He slowed without meaning to, eyes going straight to the space where her car usually sat. For a split second, his mind offered him something normal—errands, a quiet drive, her coming back later with that calm expression like nothing in the world had managed to touch her. The gates shut behind him. The unease didn’t. Inside, the house was quiet, but not asleep. Not peaceful. The kind of quiet that had been arranged. Maintained. As if someone had made sure nothing was left behind that could ask questions. Aunt Mirrium was in the kitchen, moving carefully, like noise might make something worse. She looked up when she heard him, and her eyes went straight to his face. Then, without comment, to his hands. “You didn’t come home last night,” she said. It wasn’t a scold. It was the kind of sentence that already knew the answer. Raiyan loosened his tie, fingers slower than usual. “I was busy.” Aunt Mirrium nodde

The villa was silent. Raiyan hadn’t slept. Not since that night. The mug on the bedside table was cold now, untouched. Chamomile. She’d insisted it helped—said it like a fact, like he’d argue and then comply because that’s what always happened. The pill bottle sat beside it, unopened. He hadn’t taken one. Not out of discipline. Out of spite. A small, useless refusal, like that could undo anything. He stood by the bedroom window, one hand resting against the glass, looking down at the pool. The water was dark. Still. Reflecting the villa back at itself. Nothing inside him matched it. The house felt wrong without her. Not quiet—empty in a way that stretched sound thin. Rooms that used to feel occupied now felt like they were waiting. He kept catching himself listening for things that weren’t there. Footsteps that never came. A drawer closing. A door pulled shut gently, because she always did that—like noise was something you apologized for. He turned. His phone lay on t

By noon, the Airbnb smelled like coffee that had been rewarmed one too many times. Zoya sat curled into the corner of the couch, one leg tucked under her, sweater sleeves pulled past her wrists. Her phone lay face down beside her thigh—close enough to feel, far enough to pretend it wasn’t there. Sunlight came through the window and stopped halfway across the floor, like it didn’t want to commit. The TV was on mute. Someone on the screen was talking with a lot of confidence. Zoya watched his mouth move without listening. Eric stood near the bookshelf, holding the same paperback he’d picked up an hour ago. He flipped it open. Closed it. Ran a finger down the spine. Like the book might suddenly start being useful. He glanced at the wall, then back at her. “You’ve been staring at that wall for so long,” he said, “I think you two are officially together.” Zoya blinked once. Then again. “It’s low-maintenance,” she said. Eric nodded seriously, like that answered everything. “Yeah. N

Chapter 9Zoya didn't cry when she woke up.She stared at the ceiling of the Airbnb room, blinking slowly, waiting for the heaviness to pass the way it always did after a bad night.It didn't.The room was unfamiliar in small ways. Different curtains. Different smell. A quiet hum from a fridge somewhere. A bed that didn't feel like hers.She turned her head and looked at the chair by the window.Mei's coat was thrown over it like she owned the place already.Mei was asleep on the pull-out sofa in the living room. Zoya could hear her breathing from here, steady, deep. The kind of sleep that came when you weren't forcing yourself to stay strong every second.Zoya sat up slowly.Her phone was on the bedside table.She didn't touch it right away.She stared at it first, like it might move on its own. Like a message might appear if she waited long enough.Nothing.She reached for it anyway.No missed calls. No texts. No anything.A week.Nearly a week, and still nothing.She pressed her li