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"What? How?" Mariam's heart raced, her daughter's respect and the family's honor crumbling before her eyes. Everything was turning upside down.
Yasmin, looking at Mariam, couldn’t believe her son could do something like this. She walked back and forth through the room, searching for him, but there was no one there—only the groom's suit and the curtains fluttering in the breeze, with the sun lightly peeking through. Her desperation was palpable.
Imaan's heart pounded in her chest, each beat a painful reminder of the family’s shattered reputation. This was never the plan. She worried about the disgrace they would face among their relatives. Her grandmother collapsed suddenly, clutching her chest in distress.
Mr. Amir immediately rushed to help, feeling ashamed to have a son like Yahya. "I'm sorry, Mom," he said, his voice heavy with regret as he carried her to a couch. Mariam sat beside her, still in shock, her mind reeling from the turn of events.
Seeing her family's distress, Imaan's eyes filled with tears. Her heart pounded millions of times. Was this her fate? All of this was Yahya's doing. Didn’t he understand the damage he had done to a girl’s reputation?
Amir gently laid his mother on the bed. Imaan entered, holding her dress, feeling as if everything was breaking apart. The fabric, heavy and ornate, seemed to symbolize the weight of her shattered dreams.
Yasmin sat beside her grandmother, massaging her palm. "We are really sorry," she said, her voice breaking. Mariam's tears flowed freely. She felt like a failure, unworthy of being a mother.
Her grandmother coughed, holding Yasmin's and Amir's hands. "It's not your fault. Don’t feel bad," she consoled, though the betrayal stung. "Yahya's actions are his own."
Emad entered the room, assessing the situation with a keen eye. "Are you okay, Granny?" he asked, sitting beside her. Emad was the closest to her, despite years of absence. His presence was a rare comfort in these chaotic moments.
"Yes, I am. Don’t worry about me. I'm old enough to handle such attacks," she joked weakly, trying to lighten the mood.
Rashid looked at his mother with deep sorrow. "We are not worthy to be called your sons, Mom. We couldn’t fulfill your one wish," he said, his voice choked with emotion. His wife Mariam rubbed his back, offering silent support.
"It's not your fault, Uncle. Don’t feel guilty. Yahya isn’t a child anymore. He should have thought before running away," Emad said coldly, his eyes hard. Everyone knew his stern demeanor. Imaan couldn’t bear to look at him, her fear mingling with her sorrow.
Silence fell over the room after Emad spoke. Yasmin stood in front of Mariam, holding her hands. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I never thought Yahya could do something like this." Mariam had no hope left for her son. She couldn’t even promise to find him and make him marry Imaan.
"I apologize too," Mr. Amir joined, his heart heavy with guilt. "We never raised him to act this way."
"No, no, please don’t say that. It’s not your fault," Rashid insisted. "After all, Amir, you are my brother. We share this burden together."
"Now stop all this," Grandmother interrupted. "We can still have this marriage." She held Emad's hand, looking at him with determined eyes.
Everyone was confused. Imaan glanced at her grandmother, while Emad looked puzzled but gently stroked her hand, trying to offer her some comfort.
"Emad will marry Imaan," Grandmother declared. Shock rippled through the room. Fear gripped Imaan; her hands trembled. Without her consent, her marriage was being arranged—first with her cousin, now with the man she feared most since her teenage years. She felt like a puppet, her fate decided by others.
"This is a good idea, but what about Emad? Does he agree?" Rashid asked. Imaan felt the ground fall away beneath her. Her father was concerned about Emad’s opinion, not hers. She glanced at her mother, hoping for a sign of concern, but found none. She looked down, tears falling. She gripped her bridal dress, feeling like nothing more than a toy.
"My Emad will never disappoint me. I know him," Grandmother said, looking at Emad with a soft smile. Emad had his own life, his businesses, but now everything was changing. He never imagined a woman entering his life this way. He preferred solitude, his stern nature keeping others at bay. He looked at Imaan, who was staring at the floor, feeling the weight of everyone's expectations.
"I agree," he said finally. Everyone smiled, the room filling with noise. Relief washed over them, knowing they had Emad to save their family’s honor.
Mariam walked to Imaan, patting her hair. "I hope my daughter doesn’t mind," she said, smiling through her tears. "You know we only want what's best for you."
Imaan choked back tears. "Even if she does, her opinion doesn’t matter," she whispered bitterly. Emad was a distant relative, but she feared he would be like Yahya, her father, and her uncle—uncaring towards women.
"Now forget about the past for a while," Grandmother declared, smiling. But deep down, Yahya’s parents felt terrible. Mariam couldn’t hate her son and resolved to find out where he had gone.
Everyone began to leave the room. Imaan stood alone, feeling Emad’s gaze on her. Her dress sleeve got caught in the door. Her hands shook as she tried to free it.
Emad casually walked over, one hand in his pocket. He smoothly freed her sleeve from the door. His breath was warm on her ear. "Be careful, little bride," he whispered, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. She couldn’t believe he spoke to her like that. What had he just said? She couldn’t comprehend it.
Imaan stood there, her heart pounding. Emad’s words echoed in her mind, both a warning and a strange comfort. She felt trapped, yet a glimmer of something new sparked within her—a curiosity about this man who had so easily stepped into a role that wasn’t his to take.
