Ulfat ; محبت
"Where do you think you are going?" I asked while looking at her whose eyes were wide open
"Woh....Mai.." she was saying as I pulled her more closer to me and she gasped I put my face near her neck and inhale her vanilla scent she pu...
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Zurfasha's POV
The sky outside was dusky, painted in shades of sorrow and silence. I sat on the edge of my bed, wrapped in bridal red, yet feeling nothing but grey inside. My hands trembled slightly, resting on my lap like they didn't belong to me. My heart once filled with dreams now felt like a hollow shell, echoing only the sound of abandonment.
Every breath I took felt heavy, as if grief had settled deep in my lungs. There was no hope, no fear, not even resistance left just a vast, aching emptiness that stretched endlessly within me.
The door creaked open gently.
Ammi stepped in quietly, her dupatta clutched tightly in her hands. She didn't say anything at first. She just walked over, eyes shining with tears she refused to let fall. Then, with trembling fingers, she placed the red bridal veil over my head.
Her voice cracked, barely a whisper.
"Beta, It's time"
I clenched my eyes shut. Two tears escaped anyway, tracing hot, lonely paths down my cheeks. My body remained frozen, but inside, something crumbled softly, silently.
Then the Qazi came. The room grew even quieter, like the air itself was afraid to move.
His voice rang out with ritual finality:
"Zurfasha Qasim bint-e-Qasim, aap ka nikah Awalmir Afzal walid Afzal ke haq meher 50,000 se kiya jata hai. Kya aap ko yeh nikah qabool hai?"
(Zurfasha Qasim, daughter of Qasim, your nikah to Awalmir Afzal, son of Afzal, with a mehr of 50,000 is being solemnized. Do you accept this nikah?)
Inside, I was screaming.
No. No. Not like this. Not to him.
But my lips refused to obey. Fear had tied them shut.
He repeated again, voice unwavering.
"Zurfasha Qasim bint-e-Qasim, aap ka nikah Awalmir Afzal walid Afzal ke haq meher 50,000 se kiya jata hai. Kya aap ko yeh nikah qabool hai?"
Ammi leaned closer, her voice low and desperate, filled with a mother's helpless hope.
"Bolo beta."
(Speak, my child.)
My shoulders shook. I felt the walls around my heart collapsing.
And then, like a prisoner accepting her chains, I whispered—
"Q...qabool hai."
(I...accept.)
"Qabool hai."
(Accept.)
"Qabool hai."
(Accept.)
And with those three words so small, so final I became a wife to a man I did not choose. A stranger. A sentence spoken under duress.
