Ishq-e-Junoon

21. Intekhaab

-Kuch ajeeb sa mehsoos hota hain tumhe dekh kar,
Samajh nahi aata jaan aati hain ya nikal jaati hain

☾

The solemnity of the nikkah ceremony filled the air, the tension hanging like a cloud over the mosque.

"Wahaj Zaakir Shah, kya aapko Dilara Shah bint Saif Shah se 15 lakh rupaye haq meher ke badlay nikkah qubool hain?"

[Wahaj Zaakir Shah, do you accept Dilara Shah, daughter of Saif Shah, in marriage with 15 lakh rupees as her bridal gift?]

The weight of the moment bore down on him, but as soon as his eyes fell upon Dilara, all his uncertainties melted away. He had made his decision.

This was no longer just about saving her—it was about giving her the life she deserved, standing by her side.

His lips parted, and with firm conviction, he responded, "Qubool hain."

[I accept.]

Zayan, standing quietly behind his elder brother, couldn't suppress the pride swelling in his chest. He squeezed Wahaj's shoulder, a silent gesture of support.

Zayan had always admired his brother's sense of responsibility, his quiet strength. Wahaj had never voiced his feelings, but Zayan had seen the way Wahaj's eyes lingered on Dilara—an affection that went beyond familial bonds.

The Qazi's voice came again, repeating the same question twice more, the traditional threefold repetition sealing the commitment Wahaj was making.

"Qubool hain."

"Qubool hain."

With each answer, Wahaj's resolve strengthened. This wasn't just a duty anymore. In that moment, the line between duty and affection blurred.

As the ceremony continued, the Qazi turned his attention toward Dilara, his voice gentle yet commanding, breaking through the tension in the air.

"Dilara Shah bint Saif Shah, kya aapko Wahaj Zaakir Shah se 15 lakh rupaye haq meher ke badlay nikkah qubool hain?"

[Dilara Shah, daughter of Saif Shah, do you accept Wahaj Zaakir Shah in marriage with 15 lakh rupees as your bridal gift?

Dilara's heart raced, her hands trembling slightly. For a moment, time stood still. Her gaze met Wahaj's, and for the first time, she felt a strange sense of calm in the midst of the storm. His eyes were steady, filled with an unspoken promise—a silent reassurance that she wasn't alone.

Her lips parted slightly, but before she could speak, her mind drifted back to the moment on the threshold of the mosque.

Wahaj's voice came flooding back—firm yet gentle, filled with a rare sincerity.

"Main tumhari hifazat karunga, iss duniya se, aur zarurat padi toh khud se bhi."

[I will protect you, from this world, and if needed, from myself too.]

Those words had been more than just a promise; they were a vow, one that touched the very core of her soul. In that instant, when the world around her had seemed so uncertain, Wahaj had been the anchor she didn't know she needed.

The memory of his words gave her strength now, as the weight of the moment threatened to overwhelm her. She inhaled deeply, her fingers nervously clutching the edge of her dupatta, and with newfound resolve, her voice—soft but unwavering—spoke the words.

"Qubool hain."

[I accept.]

The Qazi asked the question two more times, following the sacred tradition.