Dhaagey: The Ties that Bind Us

27. qubool hai

Caught within the vibrant flurry of colors and the excited chatter of loved ones, Murtasim Khan was in a world of his own. The opulent haveli had been transformed into a picturesque setting for an intimate nikaah ceremony. The grandeur of the space subtly tamed to accommodate a select group of guests: Rumi and her parents – Waqas and Anila - Hamza, Arslan, Armaan, Maryam, and his mother.

The courtyard outside was enveloped in a cocoon of sparkling lights, glistening against the late afternoon sun. The traditional decorations, coupled with the infectious excitement that fluttered through the haveli, brought a sense of anticipation that clung to the crisp air.

Off to the side, under the soft glow of the patio, his bride was in her own radiant bubble. Murtasim watched Meerab from a concealed corner, mesmerized by the vision she presented. Adorned in the ethereal ivory and gold lehenga he himself had picked out for her, Meerab was the epitome of timeless elegance. Every inch of the fabric was intricately woven with delicate embellishments, each glittering thread reflecting the surrounding light and making her glow in a celestial radiance. She was like a star that had descended upon the earth, exuding a magnificence that was nothing short of extraordinary.

Murtasim was brought to an involuntary standstill the moment his gaze landed on her. She was a vision - so stunningly beautiful that he felt his breath being robbed from his lungs. The sight of Meerab, his Meerab, dressed as his bride was simply overwhelming, etching a memory into his heart so deeply that it seemed to make time itself pause.

He found himself struggling to breathe, his chest constricting with the intensity of the emotions flooding him. Meerab, in all her bridal splendour, was a sight that was utterly breathtaking, intoxicating to the point that she felt like the air he needed to breathe, to survive. He would treasure the image, of Meerab in her bridal outfit, forever, engraving it into the deepest corners of his soul. If he had to choose the last sight to grace his eyes, it would undoubtedly be her, his radiant bride, his Meerab.

A perfect moment, a perfect sight, and he couldn't help but think he could die a happy man with this being his last memory. Her veil, a cascade of intricate sheer fabric accented by delicate work, flowed gently down her back, swaying with each delicate movement she made as the photographer clicked picture after picture.

Her hair was styled in a sleek updo, accentuating her graceful neck. The ancestral jewelry she wore - a beautifully crafted necklace and earrings - added a touch of elegance. Murtasim's heart pounded as he admired her features, subtly accentuated by her makeup, with a dash of red lipstick that stood out against her fair complexion even from a distance.

His reverie was broken by the sound of giggles. Turning around, he found Rumi and Maryam, their eyes sparkling with mischief, at his side.

"I am surprised your family doesn't have a tradition where you can't see the bride before the nikaah." Rumi teased.

"Shut up, Rumi." He sighed.

Maryam snickered. "We bend rules often, Rumi...but Maa did say that we shouldn't let you two be alone." She added, making Murtasim sigh in frustration at the reminder.

Rumi shot back. "It seems like you'll be tasked with that for months, Maryam."

"Sad, isn't it?" Maryam's snicker filled the air again, prompting Murtasim to shoot them both a faux stern look.

He decided to cut straight to the chase. "Stop beating around the bush, what will it take for you two to come over to my side and cover for us rather than bother us?" His question was met with a wicked gleam in Rumi and Maryam's eyes.

"Diamond earrings." They announced in unison, not skipping a beat. "A pair for each of us." The synchronized demand made it clear to Murtasim that they had planned this out in advance, which brought a resigned chuckle from him.