𝑸𝓪𝓵𝓫 -𝓔-𝑵𝓪𝓪𝔃 🤍ft. sɪᴅɴᴀᴀᴢ | On Hold

🤍{ 5 }🤍

نکاح - 𝑵𝒊𝒌𝒂𝒂𝒉

The grand halls of the Malik haveli were adorned with a splendor that seemed to transcend time. The air was thick with the scents of jasmine and rose petals, their delicate fragrance intermingling with the rich aroma of saffron and sandalwood. Silk drapes of deep maroon and gold hung from the high ceilings, cascading down in elegant folds, creating a regal backdrop that whispered tales of old-world opulence.

The courtyard was a sea of shimmering lights, hundreds of tiny diyas flickering like stars against the twilight. Intricately carved marble fountains, brimming with rose petals, murmured gently, their soothing cadence a stark contrast to the vibrant hustle of the festivities. Gilded chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow, illuminating the faces of the gathered guests, their eyes alight with anticipation and excitement.

In a secluded wing of the haveli, behind an ornately carved wooden door, the bride was being prepared for the momentous occasion. A group of women, dressed in the finest silks and brocades, fussed around her, their hands deftly adjusting her intricate bridal attire. The bride, Shehnaaz, sat quietly, her posture serene but her eyes betraying a turmoil that belied the occasion's grandeur.

Shehnaaz was the epitome of beauty, her ethereal appearance magnified by the exquisite lehenga she wore. The deep red fabric was embroidered with gold threads, each stitch a testament to the craftsmanship of skilled artisans. Her dupatta, a sheer veil adorned with delicate zari work, cascaded over her head and shoulders, framing her face like a halo. The heavy jewelry she wore, heirlooms passed down through generations, sparkled with an almost celestial brilliance. Yet, despite the resplendent attire, there was a melancholy in her gaze, a silent lament for a future she had not chosen.

As the final touches were applied, a faint hum of shayari, traditional Urdu poetry, floated through the air, mingling with the soft strains of the sitar and tabla from the main hall. Sana's mother, a dignified woman with traces of her own youthful beauty, looked at her daughter with a mixture of pride and sorrow. She knew all too well the sacrifice being made, a union orchestrated for the sake of family honor and societal expectations.

Meanwhile, in another opulent chamber of the haveli, the groom,Sidharth, was similarly adorned. His sherwani, a masterpiece of cream silk and gold embroidery, clung to his broad frame. A matching turban, adorned with an emerald brooch, sat regally on his head. Sidharth's face, though handsome and striking, was etched with a stoic resignation. His eyes, like Sana's, held a quiet rebellion against the fate that had been sealed for him.

As the evening deepened, the ceremony commenced with a grandeur befitting royalty. The nikah, the Islamic marriage contract, was to be solemnized in the main hall. Guests gathered under the sprawling shamiana, an intricately designed canopy, as the qazi, the religious officiant, began the proceedings. The air buzzed with the recitation of prayers and blessings, a symphony of devotion and tradition.

Sana was led to the dais, her steps slow and measured, her eyes fixed on the path ahead. She felt the weight of a thousand gazes upon her, each one a reminder of the expectations she was meant to fulfill. As she reached the center, she took her place beside Sidharth, their hands bound together by the sacred cloth of the nikah dupatta.

Sidharth glanced at Shehnaaz, their eyes meeting for a fleeting moment. In that brief exchange, an unspoken understanding passed between them, a shared recognition of their predicament. They were bound by duty, by the invisible chains of family and tradition, yet strangers to each other's hearts.

The qazi's voice rose, intoning the verses of the nikah, his words a formal decree of their union. Sana and Sidharth repeated the vows, their voices steady but devoid of joy. Each word felt like a promise made to a distant deity, a pact sealed not with love but with resignation.

As the ceremony concluded, the assembled guests erupted in applause, their faces glowing with smiles and tears of happiness. The newlyweds were showered with rose petals, the fragrant blossoms a stark contrast to the heaviness in their hearts. The celebrations continued with an elaborate feast, tables laden with an array of dishes that showcased the culinary richness of North Indian cuisine. Silver platters overflowed with biryanis, kebabs, and an assortment of sweets, each dish a testament to the family's heritage.

The music grew livelier, a troupe of traditional musicians playing the sitar, tabla, and harmonium, their melodies interspersed with the rhythmic beats of the dhol. Dancers in vibrant costumes swirled and twirled, their movements a celebration of the union. Yet, amidst the revelry, Sidharth and Shehnaaz moved like specters, their smiles polite but their eyes distant.

As the night wore on, the couple was finally led to the bridal chamber, a lavishly decorated room that spoke of a romantic night ahead. The bed was adorned with rose petals, their fragrance mingling with the scent of sandalwood incense. Shehnaaz sat on the edge, her heart pounding, as Sidharth entered, his demeanor as composed as ever.

There was a long silence, the weight of the evening pressing down on them.Sidharth finally spoke, his voice low and measured. "Shehnaaz, I know this is not what either of us wanted. But you're my wife now and Im your husband. I don't know about you but Im not someone who takes relationships lightly. Even if we can't love each other. "

Sana looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of relief and sadness as she heard the last time. "But I must make the best of it, for the sake of our families and ourselves."she spoke in her head.

As the night deepened and the sounds of the celebration faded into the distance, the two sat in a quiet companionship, united in their shared uncertainty and a glimmer of hope for a future that, while unchosen, might still hold the promise of a different kind of happiness.

"Go and change to something comfortable. I can't sleep with you if you're wearing that". He said, more like commanded and she obliged walking up to her suitcase. She picked up a night suit and went inside the washroom. He continued looking at his phone as he heard the washroom door being closed announcing her departure.

Outside, the haveli stood like a silent sentinel, its walls bearing witness to another chapter in the family's storied history. The lights flickered, casting shadows that danced across the courtyard, a reminder of the delicate balance between tradition and the individual desires of the heart. And within, two souls embarked on a journey, their paths intertwined by fate, seeking solace in the possibility of finding their own way amidst the grand tapestry of their heritage.

He saw her coming out of the washroom in a cute night suit. He saw her messy hair and face after washing away the makeup up after the long day and it was glowing like a moon. All the forbidden desire mounted inside him for over 3 years came rushing back to him. Even he didn't had any control over his thoughts. He had never left lost himself in anyone like this before. She saw him getting up from the bed and walking towards her. She stood there paralysed as his eyes bore holes in her body. She was nervous and he was needy.

———

There u go! They're married ❤️❤️

Stay tuned for the next one!