✨ I Need a Wife, Not a Maid, Sweetheart ✨ Zayn was a young CEO who acted like he didn’t need anyone. He was strict, quiet, and always busy. One day, his grandmother told him something shocking. “Zayn, you need to get married. I already chose someone.” That someone was Elara, a gentle girl who worked in a small café. She wasn’t rich, wasn’t powerful—just kind, calm, and always smiling. When they met, Zayn expected her to be scared of him. Instead, she just smiled politely. “Nice to meet you,” she said softly. They were married within a week. At home, Elara tried her best to be helpful. She cooked for him, cleaned the house, and even organized his office. But Zayn noticed something. She treated him like a boss… not a husband. One evening, he found her quietly washing dishes again, avoiding his eyes. “Elara,” he called. “Yes?” she asked, nervous. Zayn walked closer, his voice gentle for the first time. “You don’t have to do all this.” She blinked. “But… I want to be useful.” He shook his head. “I didn’t marry a maid.” Elara froze. Zayn sighed and added softly, “I need a wife, not a maid, sweetheart.” Her eyes widened in surprise. He continued, “Talk to me. Sit with me. Laugh with me. I want you, not your chores.” Slowly, Elara smiled—her real smile, warm and bright. From that day on, their home changed. They ate together, talked more, and learned about each other’s worlds. Zayn stopped working late, and Elara stopped hiding behind tasks. And little by little, they became more than strangers in one house. They became partners. They became comfort. They became something like love. [ Story in the Opening ✨ ] Hope you like it 💫

✨ I Need a Wife, Not a Maid, Sweetheart ✨ Zayn was a young CEO who acted like he didn’t need anyone. He was strict, quiet, and always busy. One day, his grandmother told him something shocking. “Zayn, you need to get married. I already chose someone.” That someone was Elara, a gentle girl who worked in a small café. She wasn’t rich, wasn’t powerful—just kind, calm, and always smiling. When they met, Zayn expected her to be scared of him. Instead, she just smiled politely. “Nice to meet you,” she said softly. They were married within a week. At home, Elara tried her best to be helpful. She cooked for him, cleaned the house, and even organized his office. But Zayn noticed something. She treated him like a boss… not a husband. One evening, he found her quietly washing dishes again, avoiding his eyes. “Elara,” he called. “Yes?” she asked, nervous. Zayn walked closer, his voice gentle for the first time. “You don’t have to do all this.” She blinked. “But… I want to be useful.” He shook his head. “I didn’t marry a maid.” Elara froze. Zayn sighed and added softly, “I need a wife, not a maid, sweetheart.” Her eyes widened in surprise. He continued, “Talk to me. Sit with me. Laugh with me. I want you, not your chores.” Slowly, Elara smiled—her real smile, warm and bright. From that day on, their home changed. They ate together, talked more, and learned about each other’s worlds. Zayn stopped working late, and Elara stopped hiding behind tasks. And little by little, they became more than strangers in one house. They became partners. They became comfort. They became something like love. [ Story in the Opening ✨ ] Hope you like it 💫

Jimin’s life was built on control—every move calculated, every trust earned with difficulty. Yet the moment he saw Athena, standing in the sunlit courtyard of her father’s company, something inside him twisted. She was light, untainted, everything he wasn’t—and everything he wanted. He shouldn’t care. She was off-limits. Her father’s empire was untouchable, and a single misstep could ignite a war Jimin wasn’t ready for. Still, every time she smiled, it felt like the world had tilted, and he was unbalanced. “You come here often?” Athena asked one afternoon, arranging flowers in the lobby. Her tone was casual, but her eyes—bright, curious—caught him off guard. Jimin’s lips curved, careful not to betray the storm behind his calm demeanor. “More than I probably should.” Days turned into fleeting encounters: a smile across a crowded room, a brush of hands that lingered too long, a laugh that made him forget the dangers of his own world. Every heartbeat was a warning—his, hers, theirs. One evening, he found her alone on the terrace, city lights sparkling behind her. “I shouldn’t be here,” he said, voice low. Athena met his gaze, unafraid. “And yet you are.” Jimin’s hand twitched, tempted to reach, but he stopped. “Some hearts… are not meant for me.” She tilted her head, a soft challenge in her eyes. “Maybe they are.” He turned away, the weight of his world pressing down. Desire clashed with duty, and though every fiber of him ached to stay, he knew some hearts were too pure, too untouchable. And yet, every time he saw her, every time she smiled at him, he felt the pull—reckless, irresistible, forbidden. A heart he shouldn’t touch, and yet, he couldn’t help wanting.

Intro: Anastasia was a girl born too fragile for the world—her skin bruised easily, her body marked by even the smallest wound. Two years later, fate bound her to Noah, the ruthless mafia boss feared by many. After their marriage, she moved into his grand mansion filled with maids and bodyguards—yet none were allowed near her when she was sick. Noah himself would tend to her—feeding her, bathing her, keeping her close as if she were something too precious, too breakable, to ever let go.

Noah was a man who ruled the underworld with an iron fist—ruthless, feared, and merciless. No one dared to defy him. Yet the one person who constantly tested his patience was Dahlia, his deceptively sweet girlfriend. She looked harmless, like a tiny chipmunk, but she had a strange habit—stuffing her cheeks full until it seemed they might burst. At first, Noah thought it was childish, but when he realized she was always hiding food in her mouth, his cold eyes narrowed. In his world, disobedience was never tolerated—and Dahlia was no exception.

Seraphina was more than just beautiful—she was the wife of Lucian, the most feared mafia boss in the city. With that title came admiration, envy, and endless whispers from those who longed to take her place. But none envied her more than Aliyah, Lucian’s ex-girlfriend. Desperate and jealous, Aliyah would use every trick she could—pretending to be sick, collapsing in front of him, even claiming she needed his blood—just to steal his attention. Sometimes, she succeeded, forcing Seraphina to watch in silence. Yet no matter how many games Aliyah played, one truth remained unshaken: Seraphina was the one who wore Lucian’s ring, the one who held his name, and the only woman who truly owned his heart. (Story) One afternoon, Aliyah stepped into Lucian’s office, her voice trembling as she claimed she needed a blood transfusion. Lucian’s gaze hardened, his tone sharp as he asked what type of blood she required. With a sly smile, she replied that Seraphina shared the same type. His jaw tightened, and he leaned back in his chair. “Then find someone else,” he said coldly. “Anyone—except my wife.” But Aliyah refused to back down, her words circling like poison as she insisted she could just take it from Seraphina.

Seraphina was more than just beautiful—she was the wife of Lucian, the most feared mafia boss in the city. With that title came admiration, envy, and endless whispers from those who longed to take her place. But none envied her more than Aliyah, Lucian’s ex-girlfriend. Desperate and jealous, Aliyah would use every trick she could—pretending to be sick, collapsing in front of him, even claiming she needed his blood—just to steal his attention. Sometimes, she succeeded, forcing Seraphina to watch in silence. Yet no matter how many games Aliyah played, one truth remained unshaken: Seraphina was the one who wore Lucian’s ring, the one who held his name, and the only woman who truly owned his heart.

Seraphina never asked to be envied, but being the wife of the infamous mafia boss, Lucian, came with more than just power and luxury—it came with endless eyes watching her every move. Women whispered behind her back, green with jealousy, but none more venomous than Aliyah, Lucian’s ex. Aliyah played her cards well, feigning weakness, collapsing in front of him, even daring to claim she needed his blood just to draw him closer. Each time Lucian turned his attention away, Seraphina felt the sharp sting of betrayal—but she knew, one way or another, she had to remind everyone, especially Aliyah, who truly stood by Lucian’s side.

Seraphina lived in a world where power was everything, and being the wife of Lucian—the most feared mafia boss—made her the woman everyone envied. Whispers followed her wherever she went, women secretly longing to take her place. But none envied her more than Aliyah, Lucian’s ex-girlfriend. Beautiful, cunning, and obsessed, Aliyah would stop at nothing to steal his attention back. Sometimes she played weak, pretending to be ill just to draw him away from Seraphina, other times even going as far as claiming she needed his blood. Yet no matter how many tricks Aliyah tried, Seraphina stood her ground, determined to prove that she was more than just the mafia’s wife—she was the only woman Lucian would ever truly choose. (Story) The next night, the grand mafia party was filledwith music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. Lucianstood tall with his wife, Seraphina, at his side-a pictureof power and elegance. But within minutes, she was no longer beside him. His sharp eyes scanned the crowd, only to freeze when he spotted her struggling in the pool... with Aliyah thrashing nearby. For a heartbeat, Seraphina thought he would choose Aliyah. Instead, Lucian dove in, lifting Seraphina into his arms and carrying her out of the water. His gaze shifted to Aliyah—cold, sharp, and merciless-as if daring her to try again.

Knight was the kind of man whose presence demanded respect—sharp suits, sharper mind, and a schedule filled with endless meetings and responsibilities. But behind his cold, commanding aura as a CEO, there was one person who could soften him—his wife. She had a habit that worried him the most: skipping meals. No matter how many times he reminded her, scolded her, or even bribed her with her favorite dishes, she always found a way to avoid eating when she got too busy or distracted. To the world, Knight was ruthless. But at home, he was a husband torn between running his empire and making sure the woman he loved never neglected herself again.

She had watched in horror the night blades rained down on him, her husband—the man she vowed to protect even if he never asked for it. Bloodied and broken, he collapsed into her arms, and without hesitation she fought, shielded, and nursed him back from death itself. Days and nights blurred as she became his strength, the hands that healed, the heart that refused to let go. But when he finally stood again, it wasn’t her hand he reached for. He returned with the one who had never lifted a finger to save him—the ex who couldn’t even endure his pain, much less care for his wounds. And as she stood in the shadows, watching him walk away, she wondered which cut deeper—the assassins’ blades, or the betrayal of the man she saved.

Nikolai Valente had always hated her. From childhood pranks to sharp-tongued arguments, Alexandra had been his rival in everything. But fate—or rather, their parents—had bound them together in an arranged marriage neither of them had truly chosen. Now, alone in a dimly lit bar with nothing but the burn of whiskey to keep him company, Nikolai looked every bit the man drowning in shadows. His jaw was tense, his eyes cold, his thoughts far darker than the amber liquid swirling in his glass. Then came a voice. Familiar. Unwanted. His grip on the glass tightened as he looked up, only to find her. Alexandra. She approached with a soft smile, the kind that once would’ve meant victory in their childhood wars, but now carried something heavier. He didn’t return it—he only stared, unreadable, letting the silence stretch until it was suffocating. When she sat beside him, her expression softened, but his only grew colder. “What are you doing here?” His voice was sharp, each word cutting. “Nikolai—” “I asked you a question. What. Are. You. Doing. Here?” His tone was ice, laced with venom. She flinched, her voice trembling. “Looking for you…” A bitter laugh escaped him. “You found me. Now what?” “I… I missed you.” His glare could have frozen the air itself. He turned away, taking a slow sip of his drink, the sound of his laughter low and mocking. “Missed me? You’re nothing but a burden.” Her heart sank, tears welling in her eyes as she stood. “I’m leaving.” “Good riddance.” His words followed her like knives as she walked away. Nikolai didn’t stop her. Didn’t call her back. He only watched, his expression hardening with every step she took, until she disappeared from sight. Only then did he raise his glass again, drowning whatever flicker of regret remained.

📌 Title: "Rivalry and Fate" 📌 photo from Pinterest Nikolai Valente never believed in fate—especially not the kind that bound him to Alexandra. She was his childhood rival, the thorn in his side, the one person who knew exactly how to get under his skin. Yet because of their parents’ long-standing friendship, an arranged marriage had been written into their destinies long before either of them could protest. Tonight, though, destiny felt more like a curse. Sitting at a dimly lit bar, a glass of whiskey in his hand, Nikolai’s mood was as heavy as the silence around him. His thoughts were sharp, bitter, echoing with a resentment he couldn’t quite drink away. Then—he heard it. A voice he knew too well. He turned, eyes narrowing as if the sound alone was enough to wound him. And there she was. Alexandra. His wife, his rival, the girl he’d spent years despising. She smiled softly, almost uncertainly, as she walked toward him. He didn’t move. Didn’t smile. Didn’t offer a single word. His gaze was unreadable, cold as stone. She slid onto the seat beside him, her expression gentler now, but it only fueled his anger. “What are you doing here?” he finally asked, his tone sharp, cutting. “Nikolai—” she began. “I asked you a question.” His voice dropped, dark and biting. “What. Are. You. Doing. Here?” She flinched, her lips trembling before she whispered, “Looking for you…” He laughed, low and bitter. “Well, you found me. Now what?” Her eyes softened, pleading. “I missed you.” He stared at her with piercing contempt, every trace of warmth long gone. She wilted under his gaze, her heart sinking as if his silence was louder than words. “I’m leaving,” she whispered, standing, tears threatening to fall. His laugh followed her like a cruel echo. “Good riddance. You’re nothing but a burden to me anyway.” She turned, walking away, her steps shaky but determined.

Kenzo and Alexandra were once the picture of perfection—the kind of couple everyone admired, the kind that made love look easy. For three months, their world was nothing but laughter, late-night talks, and promises whispered in the dark. But even the sweetest love can turn bitter. Small misunderstandings became sharp words, warmth turned into silence, and arguments replaced the smiles they used to share. And yet, no matter how broken they seemed, after three days apart, their hearts always found their way back—because some loves, even when bruised, refuse to let go.

Kenzo and Alexandra were once the picture of perfection—the kind of couple everyone admired, the kind that made love look easy. For three months, their world was nothing but laughter, late-night talks, and promises whispered in the dark. But even the sweetest love can turn bitter. Small misunderstandings became sharp words, warmth turned into silence, and arguments replaced the smiles they used to share. And yet, no matter how broken they seemed, after three days apart, their hearts always found their way back—because some loves, even when bruised, refuse to let go.