•IRHA'S POV•
"Qabool."
"Qabool."
"Qabool."
I heard his voice — slightly choked, for God knows what reason. Maybe it was because, as Feeha claimed last night, they loved each other. Perhaps that explained the tone in his voice.
But honestly, I could care less right now. What was at stake was my life. It felt like I was the only victim in this mess and maybe I really was. Sure, he was marrying me out of obligation too, but he still had a choice. Unlike me who got forced into this with no choices. Like, as if I get to choose, usually. He definitely could have refused. He should have refused. But no, he had to be like our families. The great gentleman everyone said he was. My foot.
Thanks to the veil, no one could see my vulnerability today and that's something I would never allow. If anyone knew me properly, they'd know that I'm a sensitive person. But that part of me has been long masked, hidden so well that all they see now is a stone-hearted girl who never cries. And I don't ever want that facade to change.
A hand pressed gently on my shoulder, snapping me back to reality. A reality I wouldn't even wish on my worst nightmares, but here it was — unfolding right in front of my eyes, shattering my dreams, my life, my happiness… if I ever had any of those to begin with.
"Qabool." I whispered. Almost inaudible. My voice strained from all the sobs since the time they'd started gaslighting me.
My hands trembled as I picked up the pen to sign the papers — papers that would legally bind me and my cousin’s fiancé as husband and wife.
Legally.
I ignored the tear that had landed freshly on the paper.
It wasn't mine.
It was his.
That... that surprised me. Why would he cry? Of course, he didn't want to marry me. And it's not like anyone forced him at gunpoint. So why the sudden emotions? Huh.
I knew he didn’t want to marry me — just like my mom had said when they forced me to get ready for this life altering moment. And it's not like I'd been dreaming of marrying him either.
"They could have just called off the wedding the moment they learned that Feeha ran away. You aren't even a suitable match for Amish, yet they chose to make you their daughter-in-law even after knowing you were the one who instigated Feeha. So be grateful. Accept this marriage. It will be the best for you. After all, who would even ask for your hand in marriage?"
Yes. If anyone’s wondering, this is my mother. The same woman who gave me birth, who brought me into this world. There were times I used to wonder if she really was my mother. Maybe I was adopted. Because that's how the Shahs treat me.
I felt the veil lift from my face, lifted by him. For a brief second, our eyes met.
It was him. Again.
Maybe from now on... it will always be him.
Immediately, I wiped my face with the back of my hand, making sure no tears were visible.
He sat beside me, and I shifted slightly, almost imperceptibly, just enough to create a little distance between us. A small distance. But enough for now.
His mother wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a warm embrace. It felt strange but it felt motherly.
"Ma sha Allah," she whispered softly.
Beside her stood her husband, Amish's father. His posture stiff, his face devoid of any smile, unlike Amish's mom.
Of course, I couldn't expect him to accept me as his daughter in law. And I could sense he didn't like me. But that's none of my concern. I knew the gravity of situations in my life, right now but I refuse to hold myself responsible for them.
Then my parents stood before us, blessing us which I highly doubt they actually did. Maybe they did. I can never figure it out because that's just how ruined our family dynamics are.
To the outside world, we are a strong, normal, sweet family. But only the people within these mansion walls know how fragile the strings of our bonds truly are.
One by one, his aunts and uncles, and mine too, blessed us. Some out of compulsion, to maintain the family image. Some, maybe, genuinely. It felt real but I had trust issues. I couldn't tell if it was real or just another act.
Despite everything, I could feel the stares from guests and relatives. Of course. They got new gossip material for the next five days. It wasn't new to me. I have seen this pattern since I was little. Thankfully, I'd never been the subject of gossip before until now.
As much as I wanted to ignore their mocking stares and whispers, some were loud enough to make sure I heard them. Yeah. They wanted me to.
I was used to mockery, comparisons, and what not... but honestly, it hurt. Just because I built walls around my heart doesn't mean I don't have one.
I might act tough and claim that I am but sometimes, past wounds resurface badly when I hear the same words again. Maybe the characters change, the voices too but the words stay the same.
What unsettled me most was this overwhelming feeling that I didn't belong here. I didn't do anything to deserve being in Feeha's place. And yet, they tied me into a life I never wanted.
At night, at the Rehman villa, inside Amish’s room.
Thirty solid minutes had passed but it felt like hours. All I wanted was sleep, an escape from this reality. But how could I sleep in someone else's room? Damn, the way marriages work is seriously making me sick at this point.
Oddly enough, it didn't feel like a marriage of convenience, at least not with the way they welcomed me here. Except for Amish's dad, no one showed hate toward me. Though I could still sense that even he didn't like me much.
They welcomed me like I was their real bride. Like I was supposed to be here all along, since the very begining.
But my rukhsati, my send off from the Shah mansion was chaos. Nothing in my life ever happens without drama. It's like drama itself is woven into my existence.
Each member of my family stayed even if they didn't want to. There's no doubt Uncle Raihan and Aunt Zamia wished the best for me. But the others, I highly doubt it. Not even my own parents.
Despite being a Shah myself, I know most of them see me as nothing but a burden.
Then Kabir and Inaya enveloped me in a group hug, a sibling warmth I never received as an only child.
The hug was long. But we shared no words, no visible emotions. But they wrapped me in a warmth, I presumed that I never wanted.
I was wrong.
Then I walked towards Amish's mother, leaving behind a house that was never really mine.
But before that, a tug on my wrist stopped me.
I turned. It was Azran.
I followed him closely, confused, as we stood across from Aymen.
I hadn't wanted to see him, not since he slapped me.
My anger burned just like my cheek had when he struck me. The sharp sting had lasted longer than his entire presence in my life. I wanted to slap him back because I didn't deserve that. I wasn't at fault. Just because Haroon last saw Feeha with me doesn't mean I made her run away. I wouldn't take the blame for that either.
They assumed their own stories for an action I never did and made me pay for it.
"You're my sister in law now but before that, you are my sister. Always. And I will never let anyone, not even your family, disrespect you. Slap him back, Irha." Azran's voice was steady, determined and laced with something darker.
To be honest, I felt emotional at that point. Something real.
At least someone was there for me.
Correction — my brother was.
Sure, I had the urge to slap Aymen bhai back. But it’s never been in my principles. First, I don't slap anyone. Second, he's older than me. I know he was wrong but it would make me just as wrong if I acted the same way.
Amish's dad, Amar Uncle, stepped in to stop the unfolding scene. Clearly, none of the elders wanted grudges with the new in laws.
Not like they cared about my life.
"Azran" Amar Uncle warned, but Amish interrupted.
"Azran, let it be." He then turned to me and leaned in to my height, whispering low so only I could hear.
"What do you want to do? Slap him? Or should I do it for you? Or... is there something else you want?"
Honestly, I wanted to slap him.
Sighing, I shook my head and turned to Aymen bhai.
"Apologize" I demanded, mustering all the energy I had left. There was no way I'd look weak in front of them.
Aymen bhai was taken aback but apologized. Not that he meant it and I knew it.
Azran looked disappointed. Even I was. But more drama was the last thing I wanted now.
And when I thought, it was all over, I heard Amish again. His voice low, firm and intense. A tone I have never heard from him.
"Make sure to think twice before raising your hand towards her again."
And just like that, I left the Shah mansion. This time not to London but to a place I am binded forever.
"Nikkah Mubarak."
I flinched at the sudden deep voice which brought me back to the present and noticed another presence in the room.
His body leaned slightly toward me, his elbow resting against the soft mattress, supporting his weight.
In a swift motion, I stood up, gripping my bridal lehenga in my fists as I moved across the room to grab my pajamas.
Talk about life changing in a week. Last week, I was in London — happy and independent. And now, God knows what direction my life is heading.
I felt his gaze on me, but I chose to ignore it and grabbed my pajamas. Turning around, I scanned for the restroom but stumbled on my way.
Great. Just great.
Blame this heavy, huge bridal lehenga, not me.
I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the fall. But before I could kiss the floor, I felt his arms around me.
Moments passed. He didn’t move. Didn’t straighten me.
I slowly opened my eyes and met his hazel brown gaze.
"Careful," he whispered gently, his fingers tucking a strand of hair behind my ear before placing me back on my feet.
"That's the restroom." He pointed toward a closed door.
I quickly gathered my pajamas and dashed inside. Locking the door behind me, I leaned against it, heart racing.
No. No. I couldn't stay with him in the same room.
All men are lustful. I'd seen it with my own eyes. That's why I didn't believe in men. Not all men but it's always men.
I had to defend myself. What if he tried to force me?
No. NO!
I took a hot shower, hoping to calm down and think. My eyes scanned the bathroom, looking for anything, something I could use to protect myself if needed.
Slipping into my Winnie the Pooh pajamas, I let my damp hair hang loose.
As my palm wrapped around the doorknob, I paused.
If he tries anything, I will kick him where it hurts. If it goes beyond that, I will strangle him. Smother him with a pillow if I have to.
With a final breath of determination, I opened the door.
The smell of food hit me instantly, welcoming me.
Our eyes met again, but I averted my gaze and moved to the bed.
"Aren't you hungry?"
If he was hungry, he should eat. No need to test my patience.
"No" I replied, but my stomach betrayed me with a loud growl. Hopefully he didn't hear it, I guess so.
"You haven't eaten all day." He walked over, sitting across from me with a pizza box between us.
"It's fine if you didn't want the food made here but you can have this" he offered gently.
Damn it. It was working. I hated that.
Swiftly, I reached for my phone.
"I don't want to burden you with my expense. Let me transfer the money" I said.
His eyes darkened.
Was it anger? Maybe.
He swallowed hard, controlling his emotions before replying, his voice soft but firm.
"You are my wife, Irha. Stop this." He tugged my phone slightly from my grip.
Shaking my head, I stood, grabbed my wallet, pulled out cash, and shoved it into his hand. He refused. So I placed it on the cabinet.
I knew he saw. Still, I'd let him know.
"Take the money. Don't make me feel like a dependent, weak woman." Our eyes met again. His gaze soft, gentle despite the tension.
He parted his lips, about to speak but choosed to stay silent.
Good. No matter how long this went on, I wasn't backing down.
With satisfaction, I grabbed a slice of pizza.
My taste buds came back to life instantly.
I hated this man who's sitting here all composed but my stomach would always remember him.
Ahh.. I have been starving since last night.
Like always, in my bad moods, I had two extremes: overeating or not eating at all.
Tonight... it was the first.
I didn't care how I looked in front of him.
I heard his low, warm chuckle and glanced up at him, mouth full of pizza.
Rolling my eyes, I ignored him and focused on the last slice.
I paused.
Should I offer him?
Nah.
If he wanted, he'd ask.
But still... Shut up! I scolded my brain and stuffed the last slice.
He took the empty box, disposed of it, and returned —sitting on the other side of the bed.
"Are you going to sleep here?" I asked as he sat down.
He nodded.
Suddenly, the room felt too small.
"No... I mean... Then what about me?" I stammered, meeting his gaze.
Judging me? Probably.
The bed was huge, spacious enough for two more people to fit in but there was no way I'd sleep beside him.
But something flickered in his eyes, understanding? Maybe.
"Alright then. You take the bed. I will take the couch" he offered.
I looked at the couch. Sure, it was huge but this man was practically a Hagrid from Harry Potter. A half giant.
Okay that was a little bit of exaggeration, but still he's big, at least compared to me. A 6'2 tall man with well built and hard muscles which deserves to be displayed bare and drooled over but I am not those who stares down at anyone's bare body.
"It won't fit you. I will take the couch. You take the bed. It's your room, after all."
"Irha... stop." His tone held a firm edge.
"I don't want my wife to sleep uncomfortably. Please... take the bed."
My wife?
Why's he still pretending like I was the one he was supposed to marry? It's just the two of us, there's no need for this act now, too.
"It's okay. I appreciate your generosity... but I am not your wife by choice. Just another option. Yeah, if it was Feeha... it would have been different."
I wanted to say more but my voice betrayed.
Quickly, I plopped onto the couch, masking my emotions.
Because once again, life reminded me that I'm just an option... never a choice.
Maybe, I will never be.
I felt his stare on me.
But like always, I ignored it.
Closing my eyes, escaping into darkness, knowing full well that the darkness around me held no difference from my reality.
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Yours,
Ara.
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