In the quiet recesses of the heart, there exists a mystery that has confounded men for centuries-a creation so delicate, yet so resilient, that even a mere glance, if harsh, can unravel her.
She weeps not just with her eyes, but with her very soul...
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"I've fixed her marriage." Within the tapestry of intertwined destinies, a proclamation like this laden with profound weight, possessed the ultimate power to halt time itself.
In the symphony of existence, a single life blooms - nurtured by the delicate touch of love, cradled in the embrace of protection, a radiant testament to being. It whispered of liberation, offering wings for the soul to soar freely in the dance of living.
In the shadows of a house that felt more akin to a prison, a presence burdened with a weight that drained out the very essence of the soul, entwined with a subconscious mind that seemed to exude vitality.
Amidst the most pivotal phase of a girl's life, the unforeseen revelation she just encountered wasn't truly unexpected. Growing up in a middle-class family in the bustling heart of Dhaka, Nazlae Shehrzad didn't harbor the luck to experience the most noble upbringing.
In the midst of her startlement, she swiftly turned off the stove to prevent the boiling milk from spilling. Her attention was drawn to the conversation in the dining room. The timid voice of her mother, Noor Jahan resonated, "And you thought to keep me in the dark!" Accusation and disbelief prominent in her tone.
Azad Iqram, the man of the house, halted his morsel of food halfway, a scowl emerging on his face. "I'm informing you now," he vindicated, his tone laced with authority and frustration.
"You can't just fix your daughter's marriage like this." Noor Jahan looked bewildered, a delicate blend of defiance and hurt latched onto her face. The air painted with tension, while a wave of anger surged through her.
In contrast, her husband's nonchalant response, "I know what's best for her," stood as a tranquil island amidst her storm, a stark yet poignant contrast. As he casually took another bite, the silence deepened the emotional chasm between them, leaving her untouched meal as a symbol of their unresolved discord.
The room fell into a hush, the very atmosphere pregnant with unspoken words. Nazlae's heart palcipitated, feeling the tangible tension in the air. Her eyes flitted nervously from side to side, a silent witness to her inner turmoil. With clenched fists to steady her trembling, she drew in deep breaths before exiting the kitchen, her steps purposeful as she traversed the dining room to seek solace in her room.
Her departure left a lingering unease, intensifying the strain between her parents. Mr. Iqram paused mid-meal once more, his jaw set in silent resolve, while Noor Jahan, abandoning her food, cast one final disdainful glance before departing, a silent storm echoing in her wake.
*-*
"He really agreed?" the lady exclaimed, her voice tinged with palpable joy, disbelief mingling with the excitement rising within her.
Shanobar Begum, a petite lady in her late forties who appeared remarkably younger—five, perhaps seven years her junior was an embodiment of grace and vitality. Her sun-kissed skin and lustrous hair framed eyes that gleamed with boundless optimism, while a perpetual smile gracing her lips, radiated effortless charm. Never one to be seen in sadness, she stood as a beacon of strength, illuminating the residence with her vibrant presence since the very moment she had stepped foot inside.
