She lifted her gown, ready to follow Anas, who had just slipped out through the balcony. He was ahead of her now, waiting. But just as she was about to follow, she heard her father's voice and her brothers' heavy steps trying to break open the door. The blood froze in her veins. She was caught in a moment no one would envy — paralyzed between running forward into Anas's arms or stepping back into the firestorm behind her.
She looked at Anas, who had stretched out his hand to her. In that split second, her mind raced through every possible outcome — and she saw it clearly:
They weren't going to make it out of this.
Huda slowly shook her head, her eyes brimming with regret, under his shocked gaze. She whispered as if trying to convince them both:
> "They'll never let us live in peace… they'll ruin our lives. Let's just go through with this for now. If it doesn't work out… we'll run. I promise."
(She blew him a kiss through the air)
"I love you."
That was the last thing he heard from her before she slammed the balcony door shut in his face and pulled the curtain. She didn't even give him time to process what had just happened.
She went back to her seat, trembling — fear and anxiety swirling inside her like a storm. Her thoughts were tangled beyond repair. As soon as she heard the door finally give way, she lowered her head toward the ground.
Silence filled the room. The only sound she could hear was the ringing in her ears.
He entered slowly, the tip of his cane tapping the floor with authority. His gaze moved slowly across the room.
The dignity and dominance etched into his face were enough to command total control — he didn't need to raise his voice.
She swallowed hard when she saw him standing before her. Her eyes were fixed on his slippers — she didn't dare lift her head to face him. Not after everything that had passed between them.
He leaned slightly on his cane and said, in a cold, sharp tone:
> "Are you ready to go out to your husband?"
The knot in her throat tightened. She lifted her head slowly, her eyes shimmering with tears, her voice shaking:
> "Papa… please…"
His expression softened slightly at the sight of her. No matter how harsh he had been with her, he was still her father — her strength, her shield.
Gently, he asked:
> "Yes, my daughter… What is it?"
She swallowed again, scared of the words that were about to come out of her mouth. In a whisper, she said:
> "I want my husband, Papa…"
He didn't react. His face remained unreadable.
She flinched when she heard the chair drag — expecting a slap, even though he'd never laid a hand on her before.
Instead, he pulled out the chair and sat in front of her.
Her father, in a chillingly calm voice, said:
> "Which husband are you talking about… Adam? I'll take you to him myself. He'll take care of you, protect you, and never disgrace you—"
Huda cut him off, her voice breaking with emotion:
> "Anas, Papa… He's my husband. The one you forced me to divorce… just to sell me into your precious network. Papa, I can't imagine myself with anyone else. I know this might sound like nonsense to you, but I love him."
He shook his head.
> "Sell you? You're my daughter — and I bought you the world just to make you comfortable. I gave you the freedom to do whatever you wanted since you were a child. I let you choose everything. Even when you brought me that good-for-nothing and said, 'Papa, I want to marry him,' I didn't stop you — even though I knew he wasn't right for you.
I married you off while my heart was against it. I said maybe I was wrong, and maybe this so-called love would prove me wrong."
> "And where did that love take you? When he used to mistreat you? When he sent you home in tears and bruises? When he divorced you over nonsense — once, twice, three times — until he made you forbidden to him by law?"
She just sat there, silently staring at him, her face expressionless.
> "I never expected that love to fix anything," she said quietly. "I accepted him for who he was."
He brushed his graying beard slowly.
> "I wanted you to stay dignified… but you let yourself be dragged through the dirt, walked over like nothing.
If that's what you're willing to accept — fine. But as your father, I will never accept that for you."
(He pounded his chest.)
"I know what's best for you, and I'll decide what's going to happen."
He stood up to leave.
> "Come on. Your husband is waiting."
She followed him with her eyes as he walked out. She knew there was no changing his mind. Still, she had tried… one last time.
She sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. He had left her no choice but to surrender completely…
She sat like someone blind, numb to everything around her. As soon as her father left, her mother came in to prepare her. The traditional makeup artists were surrounding her, adding final touches, covering her face, and leading her out with celebratory ululations and prayers.
She entered the hall holding on to her mother and father. Behind them were her brothers and their wives, the makeup artists, Salma — everyone.
To the guests, she looked like a princess surrounded by the strength of her powerful family.
But to her… it felt like tyranny. It felt like a cage.
-------
Ululations, singing, laughter, applause… everyone around her was celebrating, except for her. She stood at the heart of the storm, but the real hurricane was raging inside her. Her heartbeat raced like a drum of war, a lump stuck in her throat, and fear choked her breath. That veil draped over her face blurred everything even more — she felt like she was being led to the gallows, as if her soul was about to be stolen in the blink of an eye.
In the center of the hall, her family surrounded her. Cameras flashed. Guests offered congratulations. The notary waited. The groom's family stood at the front, ready for the final step.
The two families faced each other — men shaking hands, exchanging formalities, women chatting, all smiles.
And there she was — seated next to the groom, right before the officiant.
Everything was spinning fast, sounds felt distant and muffled. Inside, her world had gone silent — except for the thunder of her heart. She barely had time to process before they placed the contract in front of her, asking her to sign.
Frozen.
Samira leaned close, gently guiding her trembling hand, placing the pen between her fingers, whispering in her ear,
"Just sign it, Huda. It's done."
She clutched the pen, hands trembling so hard it barely stayed steady. Her vision blurred with tears, one single tear fell and landed right on the contract — like her soul had signed it before her hand even did.
The moment she signed, they quickly passed the paper and pen to the groom. He signed without hesitation.
They all recited the Fatiha together. Applause erupted.
Ululations filled the room again. Everyone celebrated the union — everyone except her.
Then came the moment. The attendants moved to guide her toward the groom. She felt his hands lifting the veil from her face. She swallowed hard and dropped her gaze to the floor. She wasn't ready to see the man they'd chained her to. In her mind, she had imagined a hideous creature, someone old, maybe disabled — anything but desirable.
But then…
He lifted the veil.
A flash of bright lights from the cameras made her squint. His cologne hit her first — bold, mixed with oud and spice, the kind of scent that lingered. She could feel how close he was, his breath brushing her face.
She instinctively shut her eyes when she felt his lips press a cold, formal kiss on her forehead.
When he pulled back, she opened her eyes — and their gazes locked.
He was looking right at her. His face showed no real expression at first, but the moment his eyes met hers, a faint smile curled at the corners of his lips.
She swallowed hard, stunned.
He was nothing like what she imagined. He radiated masculinity. Broad-shouldered, built like a warrior, with a commanding presence. His features were sharp yet captivating — tanned skin, rough jawline, eyes like blades. He was… breathtaking.
A man that any woman would dream of.
She exhaled slowly, almost in disbelief.
He was her type — exactly. And the thing she feared most in this marriage — being stuck with someone she could never pretend to love — started to fade.
Yes, it was all a ploy to get what she wanted, a detour on her path to freedom…
But maybe, just maybe, fate had tossed her a pleasant distraction along the way.
Time passed. Huda had started to loosen up. She was enjoying the way the tables had turned — especially when she saw the shock on the faces of her extended family, and the jealous women who once gloated over her divorce.
Here she was, a second bride in a grand wedding, married into an even more powerful family — and to a man that made her ex look like nothing.
All eyes were on her, but for once, she didn't mind.
She glanced sideways at her new husband, noticing the stoic way he looked ahead.
She muttered under her breath with a playful smirk,
"Guess Samira was right… Better than any movie star… You really are a jackpot, Yaa Huda."
To be continued…
🔥💥