Nikkah

40

Agra






Haidar's family arrived to finalise the wedding date, and he was beaming with joy. It was clearly seen on his face.

Despite knowing Zoya might doubt his sincerity, he genuinely didn't care about her past. He had fallen deeply in love with her, and that's all that mattered to him.

In his mind, he was willing to wait for her, no matter how long it took. Even if she needed time before committing to their relationship, he was ready to be patient. As long as she would eventually be his, he was willing to wait an eternity.

She appeared, her face lowered, and her lips pressed into a thin line. She was only going through the activities to appease her aunt.

But Haidar's unyielding gaze followed her every step, making her fists clench in frustration.

She felt like he was already staking a claim on her, trying to assert his rights over her. His intense attention made her skin prickle with unease.

Her eyes flashed with intense hatred as she met his gaze, but instead of flinching, he smiled warmly, his eyes melting with adoration.

His uncle spoke, holding out a thick, red envelope. "We've brought your dowry, dear."

Her gaze dropped to the envelope, and her expression turned into a frown. "I don't want anything."

The man chuckled. "Islam says it, child. Please accept it."

Her aunt nudged her, "Accept it."

She snatched it, her movement brusque with rage.

"I want a simple nikah," she muttered. "I don't care if you have grand plans, but I won't participate in any of it."

Haidar's smile never disappeared, despite the frost in her tone.

His uncle dismissed her words with a wave of his hand. "Well, that's between you and your soon-to-be husband."

Haidar seized the opportunity and spoke with a wide smile. "We need a one-on-one conversation about it, then."

Her eyes flickered at him with rage, her gaze piercing him like a dagger.

Her aunt replied. "You can discuss it outside, dear."

Zoya opened her mouth to protest, but her aunt's whisper stayed her. "Not now, please. His uncle is here. What will he think of you?"

Her face burnt with suppressed anger, her chest heaving with resentment towards both his uncle and him.

She spun and stormed out, leaving the room while he followed her, his eyes never leaving her back.

His smile had faded, now replaced by a determined glint.

After they stepped outside, she spun around, her eyes gleaming with fury.

He stood before her and exclaimed. "My dearest Queen."

Her anger boiled over. "You separated a husband and wife. That is a grave sin in our religion. Go repent for your wrongdoing!" She snarled, "And never call me that again. I will never be yours."

His smile only deepened after it appeared, his calm conduct fuelling her ire. She expected anger, defensiveness, or resentment, but his tranquil expression enraged her further.

"We're getting married in three months," he stated, his voice relentless. "And you're already mine. You accepted the dowry."

Her gaze dropped to the envelope still clutched in her hand, and the meaning of it felt like shackles on her wrists.

"It doesn't change a thing," she mumbled. "In fact, I'm glad we came outside, so you can see what I'll do with it. I won't keep it."

She strode towards the street, and he followed closely behind her. They approached a frail old woman huddled on the sidewalk, her eyes sunken and her hands outstretched.

She stopped before her and spoke, "Take this," and then handed her the envelope.

The woman's gnarled hands accepted the envelope, and her eyes widened as she opened it, revealing the bundle of cash and a glittering diamond necklace that was inside.

She gasped, her gaze darting back to Zoya.

"Are you sure you want to give this away?" the woman asked with a natural trembling voice.

Haidar crossed his arms, his eyes tightening slightly, but his calmness remained intact. Though he was not happy she was giving it away because he chose the necklace specially for her, he said nothing.

"It's yours," she replied, her expression unbothered.

The woman's wrinkled hands closed around the envelope, and she uttered in gratitude. "May Allah bless you, child. May you have a blissful wedding."

Her gaze shifted to Haidar, who smiled warmly, receiving her blessing.

"May God fulfil all your wishes, son," she continued. "Wait and see. On the day of your wedding, it will rain throughout the day—a blessing from God Himself, signifying His approval of your union. He will bless you with many children, and your life will be free from agony."

Zoya's expression darkened, her displeasure evident because she didn't give her to receive any blessing.

"Ameen!" he replied, his eyes shining with hope.

He asked curiously, "But how do you know I'm not married?"

Her gentle smile implied a divine insight. "God sent you to answer my du'a. Consider that He also sent me to tell you that you will have a happy married life."

Her voice took on a soothing tranquality. "Perhaps the beginning won't be as you desire, but it will be sweet in the end. You will thank God, for it will be worth the wait."

He grinned with joy, pulling out two notes of money to reward her blessing. But she declined, shaking her head.

"This is more than enough," she said, her eyes sparkling. "I wish you two a happily married life. Your match is made in heaven, trust me."

Zoya seethed, her face reddening. She turned and stormed back towards her house, and then halted and whirled around, her eyes shining with rage.

"Our marriage will be nothing but misery for you," she spat at Haidar that reached. "Know this: I'll never give you children, because I'll never share your bed."

His response was a low, amused chuckle, which only fuelled her fury. Her anger boiled over, her chest heaving with ire.

"I won't even consider myself married to you," she continued. "I've already gifted out your dowry."

He shrugged, unperturbed. "You accepted it, Zoya. God was our witness. What you do with it is your choice, but it seals our agreement. I've given you the dowry, and that makes you mine."

Her blood simmered, her face burning with irritation. She clenched her teeth, desperate to find a weakness that would trigger him to lose his calmness.

"I want a simple nikah," she spoke. "No friends, no ceremony. Not even your family—just five people, maximum from your side."

His smile grew. "Sure, wife. Anything else?" he asked, his tone having sarcasm.

Her anger exploded, and she squeezed her hands to suppress her fury.

"I hate you with all my heart and soul. I hate you!" she confessed.

His expression remained serene. "And I love you with all my heart and soul," he replied in a gentle tone.

"We will meet again during the nikah," he continued, still having his smile. "Meanwhile, take care of yourself on my behalf. Don't worry, I know soon, it will be my responsibility to ensure your well-being."

With that, he turned and stepped inside, leaving her seething.

He knew her anger would boil over, and he chose to spare himself the fallout.

Her face contorted in rage, her fists clenched at her sides.