𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝑺𝒖𝒃𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒕𝒆 𝑩𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒆

➒ ꜰᴀʀᴇᴡᴇʟʟ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ɴᴇᴡ ʟɪꜰᴇ

Author's POV:

Arham returned to the stage and dropped heavily into a chair with a loud thud. Hassan, who was sitting beside him, immediately turned to him with concern. "Arham, where have you been? We've been looking everywhere for you. I even tried calling, but you didn’t answer."

Arham rubbed his temples, his head throbbing. "I was on the terrace, trying to get some fresh air. All this noise... it's giving me a headache," he replied, his voice low and strained.

Hassan placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Relax, bro. It'll be okay."

Arham let out a deep sigh, feeling the tension in his body refuse to leave. "No, Hassan. Nothing’s alright, and I doubt it ever will be. Please, just tell Fahad Bhai to wrap everything up quickly. I just want to get out of here and go home," he said, his voice edged with exhaustion.

Hassan nodded, understanding Arham’s frustration. He stood up and walked over to Fahad Bhai, who was busy speaking with some guests. After a brief conversation, Fahad nodded and then approached Raza, whispering to him about arranging the Ruksati (the bride’s departure ceremony). Arham watched, his mind spinning, wishing the night would end already.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Mirha's POV:

I sat quietly on the bed, my thoughts spiraling as Saba Appi and Anum chatted with the other women in the room. Everything felt surreal, like a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. How had my life come to this? Marrying someone who couldn't stand the sight of me—someone who probably resented every moment of this marriage. The pain in my chest tightened as I thought about it. I had never imagined my life taking such a turn.

A tear escaped from my eye, and I quickly wiped it away. But then, panic seized me as a woman approached, reaching to lift my veil. My heart pounded, and my hands shook uncontrollably. What if she revealed my face? What would they say when they realized I wasn’t Zara?

Thankfully, Saba Appi acted quickly. She grabbed the woman's wrist, stopping her in time. "You cannot see her face," Saba Appi said firmly, The woman looked puzzled, as did the others, but she continued, "It's a family tradition. The bride’s face remains hidden until the next morning."

Her words brought murmurs of understanding, and the women backed away, accepting the explanation. I sighed in relief, but the weight of the situation only pressed down harder on me.

Soon, Taya Abbu and Fahad Bhai entered the room. “It’s time for the Ruksati,” Taya Abbu announced softly, his eyes filled with sadness.

My heart dropped. The dreaded moment had arrived—the moment where I had to leave this house, leave Taya Abbu, and step into a life I was utterly unprepared for. My palms were slick with sweat, and my legs felt like they could give out beneath me if I stand. How could I possibly leave Taya Abbu behind, especially after everything that had happened? But I had no choice. Everything was slipping out of my control, and I felt powerless, trapped in a situation I never asked for.

Taya Abbu asked to speak with me in private, and the women quietly left the room, giving us space. He walked over and gently lifted my veil, revealing the tears that stained my cheeks. His eyes, too, filled with emotion as he struggled to keep his own tears at bay. But eventually, they fell, and seeing him like that broke my heart even more.

"I shouldn’t have done this to you, my child," Taya Abbu whispered, his voice thick with regret. "I sacrificed you for my own dignity... and now I regret it."