Eman's POV
I am Eman. Twenty-three years old. A girl who dared to dream higher than the sky, who thought life would bend before hard work and determination. Ever since I was a child, I wanted to be a doctor. Not just for the white coat or the respect people give to doctors, but because healing always felt like my purpose. I wanted to be the person who could look into someone's eyes, full of pain, and say, "Don't worry, you'll be fine." That was my dream. My only dream.
But dreams are delicate things. They break when reality crashes too hard against them.
Today, I sit in front of a mirror, dressed as a bride, yet all I can see is a girl who once topped every exam in her medical classes but couldn't top the exam of life. I see a stranger-layers of makeup, heavy jewelry weighing down my neck, a red bridal dress that sparkles under the light but feels like chains wrapped around me.
I whisper to myself, "This isn't me. This isn't the life I wanted."
But then, I think of my uncle and aunt the ones who raised me after my parents' accident. They gave me a roof when I was left with nothing. They fed me when I was just a helpless orphan. And though my aunt's eyes often carried irritation whenever she looked at me, I still told myself she's family. I owe them. I can't say no to them.
They say this marriage is for my good. For our good.
I laugh bitterly under my breath. What good? To marry a man I have never met? To abandon my dream of becoming a doctor just because they cannot afford my studies anymore? I was ready to work, ready to struggle, but they decided my fate without asking me. They arranged my marriage with the son of a billionaire. The richest man in the city. A man people whisper about in fear and in pity.
They call him a madman.
I close my eyes and let the word echo in my mind. Madman.
Is he really insane? Does he scream and break things? Or is there something more behind those whispers? I don't know. No one tells me the truth. All I know is that I saw his picture once sharp jawline, intense eyes, an aura of power even in a photograph. That man looked like he could make the world bow before him. But everyone says the same thing: He isn't normal anymore.
How can I marry someone I don't even understand? Someone the world fears?
A tear slips down my cheek, ruining the corner of my eyeliner. I wipe it quickly before anyone comes in and scolds me for not looking like a "perfect bride."
I remind myself Eman, you have no choice.
I try to breathe slowly. My heartbeat thunders in my chest. Every inhale feels like the weight of a mountain pressing on me.
I never thought life would bring me here. From the girl who once stayed up nights, studying every page of medical textbooks, to a girl forced to close those books forever because her family couldn't afford them.
I used to believe I could change my destiny with hard work. But maybe destiny changes us instead.
I glance at the mirror again. The red veil frames my face, and for the first time, I don't see a doctor-in-making. I see a bride. A sacrifice.
And today... is the day I leave one home and step into another.
The door creaks, and my aunt enters. She doesn't smile at me. She never does. Instead, she adjusts my dupatta roughly, muttering under her breath about how brides should sit straight, how I should be grateful.
"Don't forget, Eman," she says sharply, "this is for your own good. We couldn't let you waste our money chasing useless dreams. At least now, you'll live in comfort."
Her words pierce me, but I don't reply. I never do. I know she doesn't see me as her daughter. I was just another responsibility thrown on her after my parents died. I swallow my pain and nod silently.
In her eyes, this marriage isn't a curse. It's her ticket to freedom from me.
Time seems to move too quickly after that. Relatives rush in and out, fixing my jewelry, adjusting my veil, praising how beautiful I look. I smile faintly, because that's what brides are supposed to do. But inside, I'm trembling.
Each passing second brings me closer to the unknown man who will become my husband.
I wonder what he will be like. Will he glare at me with madness in his eyes? Will he speak nonsense? Or will he sit quietly, broken in ways the world doesn't understand?
I don't know.
All I know is, tonight I'll belong to him.
As the wedding rituals pass in a blur, I feel like I'm watching someone else's life. People laugh, people cry, relatives bless me, and yet my mind is far away. All I hear are the whispers around me.
"The poor orphan girl is so lucky."
"She's marrying into the richest family."
"But isn't the groom...?"
"Shhh! Don't say it too loud. They'll hear you."
The word hangs in the air, unspoken but sharp madman.
When the rituals end and I'm finally escorted to my new home, my hands feel ice-cold beneath the weight of golden bangles. My heart races as the huge mansion comes into view. It's nothing like the small home I grew up in. This house is grand, intimidating, glowing with chandeliers and cold luxury.
And somewhere inside, my husband waits.
I clutch the fabric of my dress tightly. This is it, Eman. The life you never chose but must live.
I whisper to myself, as if reminding my soul who I am.
"I am Eman. Twenty-three years old. A girl who once dreamed of healing the world... but today, I am walking into the world of a man everyone calls a monster. Maybe they're right. Maybe I should be afraid. But what if... what if behind this madness, there's something no one else dares to see?"
And for the first time, a strange fire lights inside me.
If he's broken, I'll face his brokenness.
If he's mad, I'll confront his madness.
And if he truly is a monster... then maybe it's my destiny to teach the monster how to love.
--------