Author pov
The Qazi looked up, convinced he must have misheard. "Beta...?" Before he could continue, Meher suddenly stood. Her heavy bridal dupatta slipped slightly from her shoulder as she stepped back, her trembling hands clenching tightly into fists. When she spoke again, her voice was no longer gentle. It was sharp, harsh, and overflowing with anger and pain. "I would rather die... than marry that blind man." The words crashed through the hall like a violent storm. Gasps echoed from every corner.
Somewhere, a silver tray slipped from a servant's hands and clattered loudly onto the marble floor. A frightened child burst into tears. Mrs. Sultan's face drained of all color. "Meher..." she whispered in horror. Mr. Sultan stood frozen in complete disbelief, unable to process what he had just heard.
Anam stared at her sister with tears instantly filling her eyes. "Api...?" Aiman's mischievous smile disappeared completely. Mehwish covered her mouth in shock. The cousins looked at one another, utterly speechless, while the elders exchanged disturbed glances. Whisper after whisper spread across the hall. "What happened?" "Why would she say that?" "Didn't she agree to this marriage?" "Ya Allah..." Without sparing anyone another glance, Meher turned and ran. Her heavy bridal lehenga swirled around her as she hurried toward the staircase, ignoring every desperate voice calling after her. "Meher!" "Stop!" "Listen to us!" but She never looked back. Within moments, she disappeared upstairs, leaving behind nothing but stunned silence.
On the stage, Zaryab remained seated, completely motionless. He had not seen the hatred in her eyes. He had only heard her words. Every syllable struck his heart like a blade. I would rather die... than marry that blind man. The sentence echoed relentlessly inside his mind... again... and again... and again. His fingers slowly tightened around the edge of the sofa until his knuckles turned white. For the first time in years, the man known for his calm composure could no longer hide the pain on his face. It felt as though someone had reached into his chest and set his heart ablaze. Not because she had refused to marry him—but because, in a single sentence, she had made him wonder if the one thing he could never change about himself had become the reason she despised him.
Faris and Azaan silently exchanged a concerned glance. They had known Zaryab for years—long enough to recognize the pain he was trying so hard to hide behind his calm expression. To everyone else, he still looked composed, but they could hear the heaviness in his chest and sense the heartbreak buried beneath his silence. The man who never let his emotions show was barely holding himself together. Neither of them said another word. Sometimes, friendship wasn't about finding the right words—it was about standing beside someone when words were no longer enough. With quiet understanding, they remained close to him, silently worried for their friend as he forced himself to smile on what was supposed to be the happiest day of his life.
As Mrs. Sultan hurried upstairs, another figure followed close behind. Mrs khan [faris mother] could no longer hold back her tears. They streamed silently down her cheeks as she clutched the edge of her dupatta with trembling fingers. A mother's heart had witnessed the pain in her son's silence, and that pain was far more unbearable than any words he could have spoken. She knew how deeply Zaryab loved Meher. She had seen it in his eyes years ago, long before anyone else had realized it. She had watched him patiently wait, silently pray, and wholeheartedly accept the proposal only because the girl he had loved for so long was finally going to become his wife. She couldn't bear the thought of seeing that dream shatter before his eyes. Wiping away her tears, Sabiha hurried after Mrs. Sultan toward Meher's room, praying with every step that Allah would soften the young girl's heart and that whatever misunderstanding had torn the wedding apart could still be resolved before it was too late.
The magnificent wedding hall, which only moments earlier had been overflowing with joy, laughter, and celebration, now stood frozen in heartbreaking silence as everyone struggled to understand how a day meant to unite two hearts had unraveled in a single devastating moment.
Zaryab Rizvi POV
The words refused to leave my mind. I would rather die... than marry that blind man. They echoed over and over again, each repetition cutting deeper than the last. It felt as though time itself had come to a standstill.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
The wedding hall that had been overflowing with laughter, happiness, and celebrations only moments ago now stood frozen in complete silence. I could hear the faint whispers spreading among the guests, the sharp gasps of disbelief, and the muffled sobs of those who couldn't comprehend what had just happened. Then, hurried footsteps broke through the silence. Even without being able to see, I instantly recognized them. Mrs. Sultan. There was something different in the rhythm of her footsteps this time—anger, fear, and disbelief all tangled together. "Meher!" she called desperately from somewhere near the staircase before rushing after her, while several relatives hurried behind her in concern.
The heavy silence remained, pressing against my chest until it became difficult to breathe. Slowly, I rose from the place. Every movement felt strangely heavy, as though my body no longer belonged to me. My chest tightened painfully, each heartbeat reminding me of the words that had shattered something deep inside me.
Forcing a calm expressions onto my face despite the storm raging inside me, I turned toward Mr. Sultan. "It's alright," I said quietly, my voice calm even though my heart was anything but. "If she doesn't want to marry me... please don't force her." Those words were far more difficult to say than I had expected. Love was never something that could be begged for, nor should it ever be forced upon someone. Taking a slow breath, I adjusted my sherwani and spoke again. "I think it's best if we leave." I had barely taken a step
when, I felt someone gently hold my arm. I stopped and turned. It was Mr. Sultan. His grip wasn't forceful—it was desperate. His eyes were filled with guilt, worry, and a father's helplessness. "Please stop, beta," he said, his voice trembling. "Mrs. Sultan has gone to talk to Meher. She'll make her understand. She was just angry... she isn't thinking clearly right now. Please... give us a little time." I remained silent for a few moments, absorbing his words. Deep inside, I didn't want anyone to force Meher into accepting this marriage. If she truly didn't want me, I would never become the reason she felt trapped. Yet a small part of my heart, the part that had loved her for years, desperately clung to the fragile hope that perhaps this wasn't the end. Taking a slow breath, I gave Mr. Sultan a small nod and quietly said, "I'll wait."
when Mr. Sultan's trembling voice stopped me. "Zaryab, beta..." I looked at her direction. Even without seeing him clearly, I could hear the guilt weighing down every word he spoke. His breathing was uneven, and when he finally stood before me, his voice broke with shame. "I'm... so sorry. I don't know what happened. Please forgive us for this insult." I immediately shook my head. "Please don't," I replied respectfully. "There is nothing to apologize for. Sometimes... Allah writes a different destiny for us." My words seemed to make him lower his head even further, as if the guilt had only become heavier. Looking at him, I wished I could ease the burden he was carrying, because deep down, none of this felt like his fault.
Yet no matter how hard I tried to remain composed, the ache inside my chest refused to fade. It only grew stronger with every passing second. Slowly, I closed my eyes, and before I knew it, my mind drifted back to a memory I had treasured for years—the very first time I had seen Meher.
Flashback
[ nine years ago. ]
Meher 13 Zaryab 20
I was twenty years old. It was my cousin's wedding, and the Rizvi Mansion had been just as lively as it was today. Every corner of the house sparkled with lights, music echoed through the air, laughter filled every hallway, and guests moved from one gathering to another, celebrating the joyous occasion. Abbu, Mr. Zaman Rizvi, was standing with his childhood best friend, Mr. Sultan. The two had been inseparable since they were young, laughing together as if the years had never passed.
At that time, I wasn't interested in the wedding at all. It was just another family function to me. But then... she walked in. A thirteen-year-old girl dressed in a simple pastel outfit, wearing no heavy jewellery, no makeup—just a beautiful smile that somehow illuminated the entire hall. She didn't notice me. Not even once. She was far too busy laughing with a group of girls, completely unaware that someone across the hall couldn't take his eyes off her. Her laughter... it was unlike anything I had ever heard.
Pure.
Carefree.
Innocent.
It carried a warmth that made everyone around her smile. Before I even realized what I was doing, I found myself watching her... again... and again... and again. Every time she smiled, every time she laughed, something inside my heart changed forever. I didn't know her name. I had never spoken a single word to any girl. We were complete strangers. Yet somehow, throughout the entire wedding, my eyes searched for only one person. Her.
She laughed without holding back, her happiness so genuine that it brightened everyone around her. She playfully teased her cousins, making them chase her through the garden like carefree children.
A few moments later, I watched her kneel beside a group of little kids, feeding them pieces of wedding cake before laughing at their chocolate-covered faces. When she noticed an elderly woman struggling to walk, she was the first to rush forward, gently offering her arm and escorting her with the utmost respect. Even the waiters weren't invisible to her. She thanked each one with a warm smile, speaking to them with the same kindness and respect she showed every guest.
She never tried to draw attention to herself, yet somehow she became the only person I could see. Watching her that night, I realized it wasn't her beauty that had captured my heart—it was her compassion, her innocence, and the way she treated everyone with genuine warmth. And somewhere between her laughter, her kindness, and that unforgettable smile... without even realizing it... I had fallen in love. At first sight.
The memory shattered, and I was pulled back into the painful reality standing before me. The same girl... the one who had unknowingly stolen my heart years ago... had just rejected me in front of everyone. Slowly, I lowered my head, a bitter thought creeping into my mind. Maybe... Allah never wrote her beside my name. The thought alone was enough to make my chest ache. It wasn't the public humiliation that hurt. It wasn't the whispers spreading through the hall or the pity hidden in everyone's voices.
What truly broke me was the possibility of losing the only woman I had ever loved with all my heart. Lost in those thoughts, I barely noticed a gentle hand resting on my shoulder. I didn't need to see to know who it was. Azaan. He didn't say a single word, yet his silent presence reminded me that I wasn't standing alone. Sometimes, silence offered more comfort than words ever could.
Just then, hurried footsteps echoed through the hall once again, and everyone instinctively turned toward the entrance. Mrs. Sultan had returned. Her breathing was uneven, as though she had rushed back without stopping. The hall fell silent as she looked directly at Mr. Sultan and quietly said, "Meher... is ready for the Nikah." For a moment, I wondered if I had imagined those words. My heart skipped a beat, and a warmth I had buried only moments earlier slowly returned.
Hope.
A fragile hope that I had already forced myself to let go of. I never wanted anyone to force her into this marriage. Never. But I also couldn't deny the truth—I loved her. More deeply than I had ever loved anyone. The mere thought of losing her had already shattered something inside me.
A few moments later, I heard soft footsteps approaching. Someone carefully guided Meher back to the stage, and she quietly took the seat beside me. She was close enough that I could feel her presence, yet the silence between us felt heavier than anything I had ever experienced. Azaan leaned close to my ear and whispered, "I think they slapped her... or maybe they blackmailed her." My hands instantly curled into tight fists beneath the embroidered shawl. What...? The thought hit me like lightning. Someone dared to hurt her? A surge of anger rushed through me so fiercely that every muscle in my body tensed. If someone had forced her... if anyone had dared to raise a hand against her... I didn't know what I would do. But I forced myself to remain still. This wasn't the time. No matter how much my heart wanted answers, all I could do was sit there in silence, praying that whatever had happened to her... she hadn't faced it alone.
The Qazi cleared his throat once again, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the hall. "Meher Sultan... do you accept Zaryab Rizvi in Nikah?" he asked gently. The entire hall seemed to hold its breath as everyone waited for her answer. A long, painful silence followed before Meher finally spoke. Her voice was completely stripped of emotion, cold and distant. "Qabool hai."
The Qazi repeated the question a second time, and once again she replied in the same lifeless tone, "Qabool hai." Then came the third and final time. "...Qabool hai." There was no happiness in her voice, no excitement, no warmth—only emptiness that sent an ache straight through my heart. Just then, I felt something warm fall onto the back of my hand. Then another drop. And another. Tears. She was crying. My heart clenched painfully. Why...? Why was she crying like this? What had happened upstairs? Countless questions raced through my mind, but none had answers.
Before I could understand anything, the Qazi turned toward me. "Zaryab Rizvi... do you accept Meher Sultan in Nikah?" A small smile found its way onto my lips for the first time since my heart had shattered. Despite everything that had happened, despite the pain still lingering inside me, my answer never changed. "Qabool hai," I said firmly.
The Qazi repeated the question a second time. "Qabool hai," I answered again without hesitation. And when he asked for the third and final time, I closed my eyes for a brief moment before replying with complete certainty, "...Qabool hai."
"Mubarak ho. The Nikah has been completed."
The Qazi's words echoed through the hall, announcing the completion of our Nikah, and within moments the suffocating silence gave way to a chorus of heartfelt prayers. "MashaAllah." "Alhamdulillah." "Mubarak ho!" One by one, my friends surrounded me.
Hamza hugged me first, followed by Faris and then Azaan, each congratulating me warmly. Before stepping away, Faris squeezed my shoulder, his voice unusually serious. "Don't be angry with her. they hid the truth from her.... We thought she already knew." I remained silent for a long moment, letting his words sink in before simply nodding. "Hmm." That was all I could manage. My heart was far too heavy for anything more.
A few moments later, I felt another pair of arms wrap around me. It was Mr. Sultan. He held me tightly as his voice trembled with guilt. "I'm sorry, beta... I truly am." Gently returning the embrace, I spoke softly, "Please... don't apologize. It's okay." But even as those words left my lips, my thoughts refused to leave the girl standing beside me. I couldn't stop thinking about the warm tears that had fallen onto the back of my hand only moments earlier. They weren't tears of happiness or relief. They were tears filled with pain, fear, and helplessness. And somehow... knowing that she was hurting, hurt me far more than the rejection ever could.
After receiving the heartfelt congratulations of the elders and embracing his relatives one by one, I quietly excused himself. The smiles on his face were polite, but they never reached my heart.
Every congratulation reminded him of the tears that had fallen onto my hand only moments earlier. Guided carefully by Azaan and Faris, i made my way out of the mansion and toward the beautifully decorated black wedding car waiting outside.
They helped me settle into the back seat before gently closing the door. The celebrations continued around my—people laughed, children ran across the driveway, cameras flashed, and the sound of dhol echoed through the air—but inside the car, there was only silence. closing my eyes, I leaned back against the seat and waited patiently for my bride. my heart was filled with emotions I couldn't put into words.
I had married the woman I had loved for years, yet instead of happiness, all I could think about were her trembling voice, her cold acceptance, and the tears that had silently fallen onto his hand. Ya Allah, I prayed silently, if she is hurting because of me, then give me the strength to ease her pain. Even if she never loves me... let me at least become the reason she never has to cry again. With that silent prayer in my heart, I remained seated inside the car, waiting for the moment Meher would walk out of the mansion.
Meher's POV
The moment I ran into my room, I slammed the door shut with all my strength.
BANG!
The loud sound echoed through the entire room as my trembling hands immediately reached for my heavy bridal dupatta, pulling it off my head before I collapsed onto the cold marble floor. Tears blurred my vision, and my chest hurt so much that even breathing felt painful. As I buried my face in my hands, another memory crashed into my mind. Just a little while ago, after the beauticians had finished getting me ready, everyone had left my room for a few minutes to welcome the baraat. I had been standing in front of the mirror, staring at my bridal reflection, trying to calm my racing heart when the door quietly opened.
"Aiman?" I had asked in confusion.
She walked inside with unusually slow steps before locking the door behind her. A strange smile rested on her lips. At first, I thought she had come to tease me again, but instead she looked at me with fake sympathy. " Meher..." she murmured.
I frowned. "What happened?"
She folded her arms. "So... they still didn't tell you?"
A strange feeling settled inside my chest. "Tell me what?"
She sighed dramatically. "I really thought someone would've told the bride before the wedding."
"Aiman..." I whispered impatiently. "What are you talking about?"
She looked straight into my eyes before quietly speaking the words that shattered my world forever.
"Zaryab is blind."
For a second, I couldn't understand what I had heard.
"...What?"
"He lost his eyesight years ago," she replied calmly. "And everyone knows. They've all known. And they still didn't want to tell you."
I stared at her in disbelief.
"No..."
"No..."
"You're lying."
She shrugged carelessly. "Am I? Go ask them. Ask uncle. Ask aunt. Ask anyone. They all hid it from you."
My heart began pounding violently.
"They wouldn't..."
"They can't..."
Aiman slowly walked closer. "Oh, they can. And they did. They thought once the Nikah happened... becouse your not their own child."
Every single word felt like another knife sinking deeper into my heart. The room started spinning around me. I couldn't breathe. The people I trusted most... had hidden the biggest truth of my life from me. I felt betrayed—not by strangers, but by my own family.
Aiman leaned close enough that only I could hear her voice.
"You still have time."
"If I were you..."
"I'd refuse."
Then she smiled.
A cold...
Satisfied...
Almost devilish smile.
Without another word, she quietly walked out of the room, leaving me completely shattered.
The memory ended, and fresh tears poured down my cheeks. "They lied to me..." I cried helplessly. "They all lied to me..." I buried my face in my hands and sobbed uncontrollably. How could they? How could the people I trusted most hide something so important from me?
Just then, the bedroom door suddenly opened. I didn't even bother looking up as several footsteps entered one after another. Mrs. Sultan, Mrs. khan, Dadi, Anam And Aiman.
Unlike everyone else's worried faces, a faint, almost devilish smile rested on Aiman lips. She folded her arms across her chest, silently watching everything unfold exactly as she had wanted. Inside, she almost laughed.
Now let's see what happens...
Mrs. Sultan rushed toward me and immediately knelt beside me.
"Meher..."
She tried to touch my face, but I instantly pulled away.
"Don't."
My voice cracked.
"Please... don't touch me."
Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Listen to me, beta..."
"No!" I cried loudly. "You all lied to me! You knew! You all knew! And nobody told me! I trusted all of you!"
Silence filled the room.
No one answered.
No one even tried.
Mrs. Sultan slowly closed her eyes. When she opened them again, something inside her had changed. Without saying another word, she stood up and walked toward the bedside drawer. Everyone frowned in confusion as she opened it and pulled out a small glass bottle.
Poison.
The room froze.
My eyes widened in horror.
"Mama...?"
She tightened her grip around the bottle, her trembling hands barely able to hold it. "If today this Nikah doesn't happen..." Her voice broke. "...then I won't live to see another sunrise."
The bottle shook violently in her hand.
"I swear..."
"I'll drink this poison."
My heart stopped.
"Mama!"
I immediately ran toward her.
"No!"
I grabbed her wrist desperately.
"What are you doing?"
She looked directly into my tear-filled eyes.
"If you refuse this marriage..."
"You will lose me."
My breathing became uneven.
"No..."
"Mama..."
"Please..."
"I'm begging you..."
"Don't say that..."
She gently removed my trembling hands from her wrist.
"No."
"This is my final decision."
"If my daughter refuses today..."
"I will end my life."
Something inside me completely shattered.
"Mama... please!"
I threw my arms around her.
"I can't lose you too!"
"I'll die..."
"I'll die if anything happens to you..."
Mrs. Sultan hugged me tightly as silent tears rolled down both our faces, and the room echoed with muffled sobs.
A few moments later, Mrs. Sabiha slowly stepped forward. Her own eyes were swollen from crying. Without hesitation, she folded her hands in front of me.
"Please..."
My eyes widened immediately.
"No..."
"Aunty..."
"What are you doing?"
She refused to lower her hands.
"My son..."
Her voice broke.
"He has loved you for years."
I froze.
"...What?"
A sad smile appeared on her tear-stained face.
"You didn't know. He never wanted to force you. He admired you from afar. He always prayed that one day Allah would write you into his destiny. My son has already suffered enough. He lost his eyesight... but he never lost his faith. He is a good man, Meher. He will respect you. He will protect you. He will never raise his voice at you. And if he ever hurts you... bring my son back to me. I'll stand beside you."
She stepped even closer.
"I promise..."
"He will take care of you with all his heart."
"Please..."
"Don't leave him alone on his wedding day."
"I cannot watch my son break in front of everyone."
"I cannot."
She broke down crying.
The room became painfully silent. Every eye remained fixed on me. Everyone waited.
Only one person wasn't worried.
Aiman.
Standing in the corner, a slow smile spread across her face. Her eyes glittered with satisfaction.
Say no...
Come on...
Say no.
Destroy everything.
She could almost taste victory.
I looked around the room. Mrs. Sultan still clutched the poison bottle. Mrs. Sabiha stood with folded hands. Anam cried quietly. Mrs. Sultan looked utterly broken.
My heart ached.
I felt trapped.
No matter which path I chose...
Someone I loved would suffer.
Slowly, I closed my eyes.
Ya Allah...
Why am I being forced to choose between my own happiness... and the lives of the people I love?
Several long moments passed before I finally wiped away my tears with trembling hands.
"...I'll do the Nikah."
My voice was barely above a whisper.
The room froze.
Then relief washed over every face.
Mrs. Sultan immediately pulled me into another tight embrace.
"Allah bless you..."
"My child..."
Mrs. Sabiha covered her face and whispered countless words of gratitude to Allah. Mr. Sultan closed his eyes in relief, while Mahnoor cried even harder.
Only Anam quickly stepped forward with a tissue.
"No more crying," she sniffled while carefully fixing the smudged kajal beneath my eyes. "My sister has to look like the most beautiful bride."
With gentle hands, she corrected my makeup, adjusted my dupatta, tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and smiled through her tears.
"There..."
"My princess is beautiful again."
Mrs. Sultan kissed my forehead lovingly.
"My brave girl."
One by one, everyone slowly walked out of the room. Mrs. Sultan left with tears of relief. Mrs. Sabiha silently thanked Allah as she followed behind.
Soon, the room became empty once again.
Except for one person.
Aiman.
The smile disappeared from her face. Her jaw tightened.
"No..."
She whispered angrily.
"This wasn't supposed to happen." With all her strength, she stomped her foot against the marble floor. Her fists clenched so tightly that her nails dug painfully into her palms. Jealousy burned inside her like raging fire as she glared at my reflection in the mirror. Without another word, she turned sharply and walked out, quietly closing the door behind her.
I know you are jealous from me but i m not going to gave you the satisfaction you want. but now i m feeling extremely hurt and betrayed.
Left alone once again, I slowly lifted my gaze toward the mirror. The bride looking back at me was breathtaking. But the girl hidden beneath that bridal veil... Had shattered long before the Nikah ever began.
My legs felt impossibly heavy as I walked back toward the wedding hall. Every step felt like I was walking toward my own execution. The sounds of the dhol, the laughter, and the cheerful conversations that had filled the mansion only moments ago had completely disappeared. It was as if the entire house was holding its breath, waiting for me. My heartbeat echoed painfully inside my chest while my trembling fingers clutched the folds of my maroon bridal lehenga so tightly that my knuckles had turned white.
This wasn't how I had imagined my wedding.
This wasn't how I had imagined the beginning of my married life.
I had dreamed of smiling beside the man I would marry, of my family's laughter, of tears of happiness—not tears born from betrayal. But today, every dream had shattered before it could even begin.
Mama silently held my hand as we walked, her grip gentle yet trembling. Mrs. khan followed quietly behind us. I couldn't bring myself to look at either of them. If I met their eyes, I knew I would lose the little strength I had left and break down all over again.
The moment I stepped inside the hall, complete silence descended.
Hundreds of eyes turned toward me.
The whispers stopped.
Even the children became still.
Every face reflected a different emotion—concern, sympathy, guilt, curiosity, relief—but none of it mattered anymore. I lowered my gaze and walked toward the Nikah stage without looking at anyone. Not my father. Not my mother. Not my grandmother. Not my sister. Not even the man waiting beside me.
When I reached the stage, I quietly sat beside Zaryab, deliberately leaving a noticeable distance between us. That small gap was the only thing I had left to remind myself that although this Nikah was happening, my heart had never accepted it.
The silence between us was suffocating. I could feel everyone's eyes fixed upon us, yet I had never felt so utterly alone. The Qazi Sahib adjusted the Nikah papers before looking at me kindly.
"Meher Sultan..."
His voice echoed gently through the silent hall.
"Do you accept Zaryab Rizvi in Nikah?"
My throat tightened instantly.
No words came. My lips parted, but nothing escaped. I slowly closed my eyes. At once, every painful image returned.
Mama... Standing before me with that bottle of poison in her trembling hand.
Mrs.khan... Begging me with folded hands for the sake of her son.
Papa...Standing helplessly, unable to meet my eyes.
Anam...Crying uncontrollably.
I clenched my fists beneath my dupatta until my nails dug painfully into my palms.
This wasn't my choice.
This was my sacrifice.
Taking a shaky breath, I forced the words past the lump in my throat."...Qabool hai." The words tasted bitter. As though they belonged to someone else.
The Qazi repeated the question.
Again...
"...Qabool hai."
This time my voice sounded hollow.
Lifeless.
Almost broken.
Then came the third and final question. "Meher Sultan..." "Do you accept Zaryab Rizvi in Nikah?"
A tear escaped despite every effort to stop it. It rolled silently down my cheek as I whispered for the last time, "...Qabool hai."
The moment those words left my lips... Something inside me shattered forever. A warm tear slipped from my face and landed softly on the back of Zaryab's hand resting beside mine.
Then another.
And another.
I quickly lowered my face, refusing to let anyone witness my tears.
The Qazi then turned toward him.
"Zaryab Rizvi..."
"Do you accept Meher Sultan in Nikah?" Without even a moment's hesitation, his calm voice answered, "Qabool hai."
Again.
"Qabool hai."
And for the third time...
"Qabool hai."
There was certainty in his voice.
Acceptance.
Mine had held nothing but surrender. The Qazi smiled warmly.
"Alhamdulillah."
"The Nikah has been completed."
Immediately, the hall filled with voices.
"MashaAllah!"
"May Allah bless this couple."
Flower petals showered over us.
People smiled.
Some wiped tears of happiness.
Prayers echoed from every corner of the hall.
Everyone celebrated the union.
Everyone...Except me.
I lowered my eyes and stared blankly at the intricate mehndi covering my trembling hands. The Nikah was complete. The relationship had been accepted by everyone. But not by my heart.
Slowly, my gaze shifted toward the man sitting beside me. He sat quietly, completely unaware of the war raging inside me. Maybe none of this was his fault. Maybe he had suffered too. Maybe he had been forced just like I had.
But at that moment... Logic held no place inside my broken heart. Because whether intentionally or unintentionally... He had become the reason I lost the trust I had always placed in my own family. He had become the reason I had been forced into this marriage.
Whether it was fair...Or unfair...I didn't know.
But I made a silent promise to myself.
I will never forgive you, Mr. Zaryab Rizvi.
Not ever.
That promise settled deep within my heart, sealed by tears no one else could see. After the congratulations slowly came to an end, I rose to my feet. The hall gradually fell silent once more as every gaze shifted toward me.
I sitted there like a lifeless statue while people came forward one after another to congratulate us. Their warm smiles, heartfelt duas, and cheerful voices blended into nothing but meaningless noise. "Mubarak ho.""Allah tum dono ko hamesha khush rakhe.""Duaon mein yaad rakhna." Every blessing reached my ears, yet none reached my heart. I couldn't even force a smile. I simply gave a faint nod whenever someone spoke, my lips refusing to utter a single word. Everything around me felt distant, almost unreal, as though I wasn't sitting at my own wedding but watching someone else's life unfold before my eyes.
Beside me, Zaryab quietly accepted everyone's congratulations with his usual calmness. One by one, his friends surrounded him. Hamza embraced him first, followed by Faris and then Azaan. They congratulated him with smiles, but even I could sense the worry hidden beneath their cheerful words. Their eyes constantly searched his face, silently checking if he was truly alright. Faris gently squeezed his shoulder before stepping back, while Azaan remained close beside him, saying very little. He didn't need words; his silent presence spoke louder than anything else. Watching them stirred something unfamiliar inside me. He wasn't alone. He had people who genuinely loved him and stood beside him no matter what. For the briefest moment, a strange ache settled in my chest before I quickly looked away. No... I scolded myself. None of this changes what happened. None of this changes the truth they hid from me.
Gradually, the crowd began to thin as relatives stepped back after offering their congratulations and prayers. The atmosphere shifted, and everyone instinctively understood that it was time for the bride's departure. A heavy silence settled over the hall once again. Zaryab's friends gently gathered around him, carefully guiding him toward the grand entrance. He walked with quiet dignity, his expression calm despite everything that had happened, while Hamza and Azaan stayed protectively by his side. Behind them, Faris quietly instructed the staff to bring the wedding car to the entrance. Soon, everyone else began following behind them—family members, relatives, guests—forming a slow procession toward the massive doors of the Sultan Mansion.
I, however, remained sitted exactly where I was.
My body refused to move.
My eyes wandered across the hall one last time. These walls had watched me grow from a mischievous little girl into the woman I was today. Every corner carried a memory. I had laughed here, cried here, celebrated every Eid here, chased Anam through these corridors, hidden behind these pillars during childhood games, and fallen asleep countless nights feeling safe within these walls. This mansion wasn't just a house. It was my home. My sanctuary.
Today... I was leaving it behind.
Not because I was ready.
But because I had no choice.
A painful lump formed in my throat as I silently memorized every corner, as if afraid I would never belong here again. Goodbye... The word echoed inside my heart but never reached my lips. I couldn't say it aloud. If I did, I knew I would completely break.
Taking a shaky breath, I gathered the heavy folds of my bridal lehenga in both hands and slowly began walking toward the entrance. Each step felt heavier than the last, as though invisible chains were pulling me back toward the life I was leaving behind. Yet I kept walking, refusing to look back.
With every step I took...
Home slipped a little farther away.
I slowly stood up as the hall fell silent once again. Every pair of eyes followed my every movement—some filled with concern, some with guilt, and others with sympathy—but I looked at none of them. My face remained expressionless even though a storm raged inside my heart, threatening to consume me.
Just then, Mr. Sultan stepped toward me. His eyes were red with unshed tears, and his trembling arms slowly opened, hoping to pull me into a father's embrace. "Meher, beta..." he called, his voice breaking. Before he could come any closer, I took a firm step back. His hands froze in midair, and the hope on his face slowly crumbled. For a long moment, we simply stared at one another before I finally spoke. "There is no need for this drama now." My voice was cold, sharp, and completely devoid of warmth. "You've already done what you wanted." My words cut through the silence like a blade.
Nobody moved.
Nobody dared to speak.
Mr. Sultan remained rooted to the spot as his hands slowly fell back to his sides. Pain flashed across his face, followed by unbearable guilt. Beside him, Mrs. Sultan covered her mouth as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. Anam stared at me in disbelief, her own eyes filling with tears. "Api..." she whispered helplessly. Dadi lowered her gaze, quietly reciting prayers beneath her breath, while even mahwish, who always had something to say, stood unusually silent.
The entire hall seemed frozen in time. No one knew how to stop me, and no one had words strong enough to repair the trust that had shattered inside my heart. Without giving anyone another chance to speak, I turned around. I didn't hug my mother. I didn't look at my sister. I didn't seek Dadi blessings. I didn't say goodbye to anyone. Ignoring every trembling voice calling my name, I walked toward the grand doors with my head held high, refusing to let anyone see the fresh tears threatening to fall. With every step I took, it felt as though I was leaving a piece of myself behind.
The mansion that had once echoed with my laughter, the corridors where I had run as a child, the home that had always been my safest place... today, none of it felt like home anymore. Because the people I had trusted with all my heart had hidden the truth from me, and that betrayal hurt far more than any goodbye ever could.
Author pov
The grand doors of the Sultan Mansion slowly opened, and every conversation outside came to an abrupt stop. The rhythmic beat of the dhol softened, laughter faded into silence, and all eyes turned toward the entrance. Meher stepped outside. looking breathtaking in her maroon bridal lehenga, she looked every bit the perfect bride. The intricate golden embroidery shimmered beneath the evening lights, her jewellery sparkled with every step, and the delicate dupatta resting over her head framed her tear-stained face beautifully.
She looked stunning, yet there wasn't a trace of happiness in her expression. Her face was cold and unreadable, while her swollen, red eyes silently revealed the countless tears she had shed. Without looking back at the mansion, without searching for a familiar face, and without saying goodbye to anyone, she simply walked forward. One step after another. The guests instinctively moved aside, creating a path for the bride, but not a single word escaped her lips.
Inside the beautifully decorated wedding car, Zaryab heard the soft sound of approaching footsteps. His heartbeat quickened instantly. She's coming... faris move forward and open the car door her, without even looking at anyone Meher quietly settled into the seat beside him. She didn't even spare him a glance. Instead, she turned her face toward the window, staring silently at the world outside as though the man sitting beside her simply didn't exist. The door closed, and an unbearable silence settled between them—a silence so heavy that it felt almost impossible to breathe.
Zaryab folded his hands neatly in his lap. He wanted to say something... anything. He wanted to ask if she was alright, to apologize for the pain she had been forced to endure, and to tell her that he had never wanted any of this to happen. But every word remained trapped inside him. He feared that speaking now would only deepen the wound already etched across her heart. So, he chose silence, respecting the distance she had placed between them.
Outside the car, relatives smiled warmly, showering flower petals over the newlyweds as they waved and offered heartfelt prayers. Cameras flashed, children laughed, and voices called out congratulations. But inside the car, it felt as though two complete strangers were sitting side by side, bound together by a marriage neither of them truly understood in that moment.
A warm tear slipped silently from the corner of Meher's eye. Then another followed. And another. She didn't bother wiping them away. They rolled freely down her cheeks before disappearing beneath the edge of her bridal veil. Her trembling fingers tightened around the folds of her lehenga as she continued staring out of the window, refusing to look toward Zaryab even once.
Zaryab couldn't see the tears falling from her eyes. But he could hear them. The faint tremble in her breathing... the quiet sniffle she tried so desperately to hide... every small sound pierced his heart. His fingers slowly curled into his palms. She's crying...She's still crying... The realization hurt far more than he could ever put into words. Lowering his head, he silently whispered a prayer. Ya Allah... give me the strength to heal the pain she carries, even if she never allows me into her heart.
A few moments later, the driver quietly started the engine. As the wedding car slowly pulled away from the Sultan Mansion, Meher watched her childhood home disappear through tear-blurred eyes. Beside her sat a husband who longed to comfort her, yet respected her silence enough not to force a single conversation. The journey toward their new life had finally begun... but the distance between their hearts had never felt greater.
Zaryab's POV
An hour passed in complete silence. Neither of us spoke. The only sounds inside the car were the steady hum of the engine and the occasional shaky sniffle Meher tried so desperately to suppress. Every single one tightened something inside my chest, yet I remained silent. I didn't know whether my words would comfort her... or hurt her even more.
Finally, the car slowed to a stop. The grand gates of Rizvi Mansion opened, and the vehicle rolled inside before coming to a gentle halt. Outside, relatives and servants stood waiting to welcome the newlyweds. The driver quickly stepped out and opened my door. I carefully got out of the car, the cool evening breeze brushing against my face. For a brief moment, I simply stood there, listening to the familiar sounds around me. Then I realized something. The other door hadn't opened. She was still inside the car.
Taking a slow breath, I turned slightly toward the vehicle. "Meher..." I called softly. "...please come out."
Meher's POV
I froze.
How...Did he know I was still sitting here? But how could he...? Slowly, my eyes lifted toward him. His eyes were hidden behind the familiar black sunglasses.
Before I could think any further, a servant came running toward him.
"Sir!"
In his hands was a polished black walking stick. With complete respect, he placed it in Zaryab's hand. Only then did I understand.
My gaze remained fixed on the walking stick for a brief moment. An unfamiliar ache settled somewhere deep inside my chest. Without saying anything, I quietly stepped out of the car. The servants immediately lowered their heads respectfully, and no one dared utter a word.
Zaryab tightened his grip around the walking stick before taking a slow breath.
"Let's go."
He began walking toward the mansion with practiced confidence, and I silently followed a few steps behind him. Neither of us looked at the other. Neither of us spoke. It felt less like a newly married couple entering their home... and more like two strangers walking toward a future neither of them had chosen.
Inside, the magnificent hall welcomed us with towering crystal chandeliers, polished marble floors, and elegant staircases curving toward the first floor. Family members smiled warmly from a distance, wisely giving us some space after the emotionally exhausting day. Yet the silence between us only grew heavier.
As soon as we reached the foot of the staircase, Zaryab suddenly stopped. He turned his face slightly toward me.
"Meher."
I looked at him.
"You'll find your room on the left."
My brows knitted together in confusion.
"...What?"
He inhaled quietly before speaking again.
"I had a separate room prepared for you."
There was a brief pause before he continued in the same calm, composed voice.
"Main khud ko aap par musallat nahin karunga." [ I won't force my presence on you].
For a long moment, I simply stared at him.
He was serious.
Without waiting for my reply, he turned, intending to walk upstairs.
Before he could take more than a single step, I quickly moved in front of him, blocking his way. He stopped immediately. Although his eyes remained hidden behind the dark glasses, his face instinctively turned toward the sound of my voice.
I looked directly at those glasses.
"So..." I asked quietly, "...hum alag alag rooms mein soyenge?" [ We'll sleep in separate rooms?].
He remained silent for several long moments, almost as though he was trying to understand what I truly meant.
When he finally spoke, his voice remained calm.
Steady.
Almost emotionless.
"Mera nahin khayal ke aap ek andhe ke saath rehna pasand karengi." [I don't think you'd like sharing a room with a blind man].
The words landed heavily between us.
"Isliye... aap please uss taraf chali jaiye." [ So... please go to your room].
"It's already late." with that he start climbing stairs with the help of his stick.
Something inside me snapped.
My fists tightened around the folds of my bridal lehenga.
"Bas!"
My voice echoed throughout the silent hall.
"Ab yeh drama karne ki kya zarurat hai?"
"If you cared so much..."
"...then why didn't you refuse the Nikah?"
The anger, frustration, betrayal, and pain I'd been carrying finally burst out.
His footsteps stopped instantly.
For a few moments...
Neither of us spoke.
Then, without turning around, he answered in a quiet voice filled with exhaustion.
"Kuch wajahaat ki wajah se main bhi inkaar nahin kar saka..." [For reasons of my own... I couldn't refuse either].
A brief silence followed before he continued.
"Bilkul usi tarah... jis tarah aap nahin kar sakin." [...just as you couldn't].
His fingers tightened around the walking stick.
"Lekin main khud ko aap par musallat nahin karunga."[ But I won't impose myself on you].
"Mujhe akele rehne ki aadat ho gayi hai." [ I'm used to being alone].
"Aap ko kisi qisam ki takleef nahin hogi." [You won't have to face any discomfort because of me]. His every single word sounded sincere.
My anger slowly dissolved.
It felt as though someone had poured cold water over the fire raging inside my heart.
For the first time since the wedding...
I didn't know what to say.
The silence stretched between us until the words escaped my lips before I could stop them.
Softly.
Almost unconsciously.
"Magar..."
"...mujhe akele rehne ki aadat nahin hai." [ But... I'm not used to being alone].
The entire hall fell silent.
Even I hadn't expected those words to leave my mouth.
Zaryab stood completely still.
He couldn't understand what I meant.
After a long pause, he quietly asked,
"What do you want, Meher?"
The question caught me off guard.
My heartbeat quickened.
I immediately looked away, gripping my lehenga tightly.
"...Kuch nahin." [ Nothing ].
The answer came out much harsher than I had intended.
Without another word, I turned toward the left corridor. Holding my bridal lehenga in both hands, I walked away, the soft melody of my anklets echoing through the silent mansion.
Zaryab Rizvi pov
I remained standing exactly where I was.
Listening.
Waiting.
The delicate fragrance of cherry blossoms of her perfume lingered in the air for a few more moments.
Then...
Slowly...
It faded.
Only then did I realize she had gone.
A faint, weary smile touched my lips.
I gently shook his head.
"What a strange wife...i got."
I whispered to himself. Adjusting my grip on the walking stick, I turned and quietly climbed the staircase, disappearing into the silence of my room.
Meher sultan pov
The moment I stepped inside the room, I slammed the door shut with all my strength.
BANG!
The sound echoed through the silent mansion, as if the poor wooden door had become the target of all the anger, betrayal, and helplessness buried deep inside my heart. My breathing turned uneven, and before I knew it, my knees gave out. I slowly slid down against the door until I was sitting on the cold marble floor. Pulling my knees tightly against my chest, I wrapped my arms around them and rested my forehead on top.
And then...
I broke.
Tears streamed endlessly down my face. No matter how hard I tried to stop them, they refused to listen. Why had this happened? Why had everyone lied to me? Why had no one trusted me enough to tell me the truth? Every question only made my heart ache even more.
Closing my eyes made everything worse. The memories returned like a storm.
"Stop..." I whispered brokenly.
"Please..."
But memories never listened.
For more than an hour, I remained sitting there, crying until my eyes burned and my throat ached. Eventually, there were no tears left. Taking a deep, shaky breath, I slowly stood up and wiped my face with the back of my hand.
"I've cried enough."
My own voice sounded unfamiliar—hoarse and exhausted.
For the first time since entering the room, I looked around properly. It was elegant, simple, and peaceful. The walls were painted in soft ivory, the furniture was beautifully crafted, and fresh flowers resting on a nearby table filled the room with a gentle fragrance. It was beautiful...
Yet it didn't feel like home.
My gaze slowly drifted toward the closed door. Puffing out my cheeks like a stubborn child, I folded my arms across my chest.
"I hate you, Mr. Zaryab."
The words escaped before I could stop them.
"I really do."
Whether I was trying to convince him...
Or myself...
Even I didn't know.
With a tired sigh, I climbed onto the enormous bed and pulled the blanket over myself. I closed my eyes, hoping sleep would come.
It didn't.
At home, I had never slept alone. Every single night, Anam would sneak into my room, and somehow we'd end up sharing one bed despite having separate rooms. Sometimes we'd gossip until midnight. Sometimes we'd argue over the blanket. Sometimes she'd kick me in her sleep.
A faint smile almost appeared.
Almost.
The silence surrounding me felt unbearable. I turned from one side to the other, trying desperately to fall asleep.
Nothing.
The moment I closed my eyes again, fragments of the accident flashed before me. A loud horn. A violent impact. Broken pieces of glass. Someone desperately calling my name.
I gasped and immediately sat upright.
"No..."
Placing a trembling hand over my racing heart, I took several slow breaths.
"I can't..."
"I can't sleep alone."
The words barely escaped my lips.
Then a ridiculous thought crossed my mind.
We're married now...
He's... my husband.
Then why am I sleeping alone?
The thought made me frown.
Without giving myself enough time to overthink it, I climbed out of bed and walked toward the door.
The mansion had fallen completely silent. Most of the servants had already retired for the night, and only a few lamps illuminated the long corridor. Holding the edge of my lehenga, I quietly walked toward the right wing of the mansion.
One room...
Then another...
And another...
Finally, I stopped in front of a large wooden door.
Taking a deep breath, I gently pushed it open.
The room was almost twice the size of mine. A luxurious king-sized bed occupied the center while an elegant sitting area overlooked the gardens. Everything was neat, organized, and minimal.
My eyes were immediately drawn toward the enormous portrait hanging above the headboard.
It was him.
Zaryab.
Without the dark glasses.
Dressed in a black sherwani, seated confidently on a royal chair. His posture radiated quiet authority, and there was something calm... something dignified... about the man in the portrait.
For a brief moment, I found myself staring at it.
"So...Did you need something?" His calm voice suddenly broke the silence.
I jumped.
Turning around quickly—I froze.
He had just stepped out of the attached bathroom, his hair still damp from the shower, with a fresh towel wrapped around him. Startled by the unexpected sight, I immediately turned my face away, feeling warmth rush to my cheeks.
"W-Who told you to speak so suddenly?" I muttered under my breath.
He looked slightly confused.
"Oh...sorry"
Trying to compose myself, I awkwardly cleared my throat.
"I... I need to change."
My voice sounded far less confident than I wanted it to.
He simply nodded.
"Your luggage has already been arranged."
Without another word, he walked toward the bed, sat comfortably against the headboard, and closed his eyes, silently giving me privacy.
I quietly walked toward the dressing table. The heavy bridal dupatta suddenly felt unbearable. I removed it from my head and placed it neatly on the nearby sofa before reaching for the countless hairpins securing my hairstyle.
One pin.
Then another.
Then another.
"There are hundreds of these," I grumbled under my breath.
My arms had already started aching, yet not one pin seemed willing to come out. I sighed dramatically.
"Who invents hairstyles like this?"
Several exhausting minutes later, my hair finally tumbled freely down my back. A wave of relief instantly washed over me.
Looking into the mirror, my eyes landed on Zaryab's reflection. He was resting quietly against the headboard with his eyes closed.
Seriously...? He couldn't even ask if I needed help?
"Karroos″ I silently cursed him before turning my attention toward my jewelry. One by one, I removed the heavy necklace, earrings, bangles, and every other piece, placing them on the dressing table with a little more force than necessary.
Clink.
Clink.
Clink.
The louder sounds echoed through the otherwise silent room.
Zaryab never opened his eyes. But the tiny smile that curved on his lips told me he had understood exactly why I was making so much noise.
A few moments later, he slowly opened his eyes—not to look at me, but because the room had suddenly grown quiet.
By then, I had removed almost all my jewelry and stood holding the edge of my bridal lehenga with both hands.
Walking toward him, I stopped a respectful distance away.
"My clothes?"
I asked, trying to sound calm.
Zaryab turned his face toward the sound of my voice.
"They're in the wardrobe," he answered gently.
"Everything you need has already been arranged."
There was no pride in his voice.
No expectation.
No hidden meaning.
Silently, I gave a small nod before turning toward the wardrobe, leaving the quiet room wrapped in silence once again, I walked toward the wardrobe. The moment I pulled open its large wooden doors, my eyes landed on an entire row of neatly hanging nightdresses.
Silk.
Satin.
Lace.
Every shade imaginable—pink, black, white, red. I slowly ran my fingers across them one by one before picking up a delicate satin nightdress and frowning. "Tauba..." I muttered under my breath. "Kis qism ki wahiyat nighties hain yeh." Wrinkling my nose in disgust, I shook my head. "Magar inhein pehenne ka bhi kya faida... jab yeh sahab toh dekh hi nahin sakte." In my irritation, I completely forgot one very important fact—he might have been blind, but he certainly wasn't deaf.
My mood worsened even more. Ignoring every single nightdress, I pulled out a simple sky-blue cotton kurta with a white palazzo. After grabbing my clothes, I slammed the wardrobe shut with far more force than necessary.
THUD!
Behind me, Zaryab remained seated against the headboard, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Every single word I had muttered had reached his ears. He said nothing, choosing not to embarrass me.
Just as I was about to disappear into the walk-in closet, his deep voice stopped me.
"yahin change kar lijiye."
I immediately turned around, my brows knitting together.
"Kyun?"
My tone was sharp.
"Yaha kyun change karun main?"
"Main andar jaa kar hi change karungi."
For a few moments, he remained silent before turning his face toward my voice. His expression was as calm and composed as ever.
"Aap ki marzi..." he said quietly before adding after a brief pause, "...main ne kaunsa aap ko dekhna hai."
The words caught me completely off guard.
Without realizing it, my gaze lifted toward his face.
For the very first time...
I truly looked at him.
he was not wearing glasses, he looked unbelievably handsome. His damp hair was still slightly messy from the shower, and there was a quiet dignity in the calm expression resting on his face. For a strange moment, I simply stood there, unable to look away.
He can't even see you, my subconscious reminded me.
Almost embarrassed by my own thoughts, I quickly looked away and disappeared into the closet.
A little while later, I stepped back into the room wearing the simple blue kurta and white palazzo. The heavy bridal outfit was finally gone, and for the first time all day, I felt as though I could actually breathe.
Before I could take another step—
Click.
The lights went out.
The room was swallowed by complete darkness.
I froze instantly.
My heartbeat quickened.
I hated darkness.
Taking careful, hurried steps, I walked toward the bed until I found him.
"Light on karein."
Zaryab immediately turned his face toward my voice.
"Kya hua?"
"Mujhe andhere mein dar lagta hai."
Then, before I could stop myself, the words rushed out.
"Aur waise bhi..."
"Light on ho ya off...aap ko kya farq padta hai?"
The moment I finished speaking, I regretted it.
For a second, I waited for his to hurt.
Or to anger.
Instead...
Nothing.
Not even the slightest change appeared on his face.
Without saying a word, he calmly reached toward the bedside switch.
A soft golden light filled the room once again.
Only then did I realize I had been holding my breath.
Quietly, I placed my dupatta over a nearby chair before climbing onto the bed, leaving a respectful distance between us.
Even then...
It felt strange.
Tonight, I wasn't sleeping beside Anam.
Tonight...
I was sharing a bed with my husband.
After several silent moments, his calm voice broke the silence.
"Aap... mere saath yahan soyengi?"
I blinked before folding my arms.
"Toh aur kahan jaaun?"
"Aap hi bata dijiye."
"Yahin nahin toh farsh par so jaaun?"
He remained silent, so I continued before I could stop myself.
"Ek toh is nikah ke liye itna sab kuch jhelna pada..."
"Upar se mujhe aap ke saath akela bhi bhej diya." Letting out an irritated sigh, I finally admitted in a much smaller voice,
"Dekhiye Main akeli nahin soo sakti Mujhe dar lagta hai." For the first time that night, there was no anger in my voice.
Only honesty.
Zaryab lowered his head ever so slightly. He instantly regretted asking the question. He had never wanted to make her uncomfortable.
After a brief silence, he spoke gently. "Soo jaiye." There was no hesitation.
No judgment.
Only quiet understanding. A tiny smile appeared on my lips. "Thank you." I whispered before lying down.
Minutes passed.
Then more.
Sleep still refused to come. Carefully, I turned onto my side.
He looked peaceful.
Calm.
As though the burdens of the day had finally left him.
Without realizing it, I found myself staring.
Kaash...Yeh dekh bhi sakte.
Almost unconsciously, I shifted a little closer. Not enough to disturb him—just enough that the distance between us became smaller. Eventually, exhaustion overpowered my restless thoughts. My eyelids grew heavy. Sleep slowly carried me away.
.................
Several minutes later, Zaryab quietly opened his eyes.
He hadn't been asleep.
A faint smile—one that had become so rare over the years—slowly appeared on his face.
He could hear her soft, peaceful breathing beside him.
For the first time in a very long while...
His room no longer felt empty.
He shook his head ever so slightly.
"What an unusual girl..."
he whispered to himself.
"So stubborn..."
"...yet so innocent."
The smile lingering on his face grew just a little wider before he finally closed his eyes. And for the first time in many years... Zaryab Rizvi fell asleep with peace in his heart.
Author's Note
Assalamualaikum, everyone! 🤍
Thank you so much for reading and supporting this story. It truly means a lot to me. If you're enjoying the journey of Zaryab and Meher, please don't forget to vote, comment, and share your thoughts. Your support motivates me to write more.
🎯 Target: 100 Votes
Let's reach this milestone together! Thank you for being part of this journey.
With love,
Fiza ali khan❤️