Kaabil

8. The Wedding

Meerab

Another life-changing day in my life.

It's hilarious that I planned a different outlook a few weeks ago. Even in my wildest dreams, I never thought I would sit in front of the mirror at the Khan Haveli, dressing up for my wedding—that too with Murtasim. Khan Murtasim Khan was the king, and now it was my time to be his Queen.

The thought alone brought shivers down my spine. I'll be his wife. Meerab Murtasim Khan.

Mom entered the room, Maryam and Saba following behind. She gave me the weakest smile. "Mashallah, my daughter looks magnificent. I feared you wouldn't wear the dress, but you have surprised all of us." Tears trailed down her cheeks.

That night in my room, I created a new tradition for myself. I paired Mom's dress with my mother's wedding jewelry. I wanted to honor the women in my life.

Though I have no memories of my mother, she gave birth to me. I wanted to cherish that moment alone.

Maryam squeezed my shoulder, "Chalein, Bhabhi Jeee." Of course, she would start teasing me now.

(Let's go, Bhabhi.)

I smiled and nodded. She helped me set everything in place while Mom veiled my face.

We walked down to the yard where the function was held. I stood underneath the flower canopy while Maryam and Saba held the front and some other female cousins held the back. I nervously played with my finger and awaited my entrance.

I took a few steps in the yard, and through my peripheral vision, I glimpsed people standing up and taking photos. Suddenly, I heard Saba whisper, "Meerab, your husband is fucking handsome."

Her words echoed when I dared to glance at my husband. He stood with Anwar Chacha, my father, and The Qazi Sab.

I trailed my eyes to his ivory Sherwani, and the shawl hung on his shoulders. His turban was of the same color, long and imposing his position. My thoughts drifted to when I saw his white shirt stained with blood, the red shade of the one I was wearing. Pretty symbolic. Right?

Just like his impeccable white shirt, I was the stain—a stain he never wanted but was forced to keep. This time, he couldn't wash it away.

Tears welled up in my eyes.

To my luck, we reached the stage.

He extended his hand, debating; I held onto him. He pulled me up while Saba and Maryam fixed my lehenga.

Mom came forward with Maa begum and directed me to sit on the couch opposite Murtasim, whose face was expressionless.

Due to a flower curtain separating us, I couldn't read his eyes. That alone raced my heartbeat. The Qazi Sab recited Quran Verses. He explained the importance of a man and a woman in a marital relationship. However, every word hit my heart like a hammer. I reached out to my Dad, who froze at my gesture.

"Please, Dad. I need you right now." A few tears left his eyes, falling on my hand. He squeezed my palm.

"Meerab Khan, daughter of Anwar Khan, Do you take Murtasim Khan, son of Shahnawaz Khan, as your lawfully wedded husband with a dowry of 25 Murabbas, one million dollars, and 10% of shares of Khan Empire. "