Finally, the day has come—the day I’ve waited for. Today is my wedding day. In just a few hours, I’ll marry the love of my life. Yes, love—real, deep, and consuming. I love him. I do. I’m truly happy, so happy to have him in my life, and today we’ll start our forever together.
But as much as I love this wedding, I hate parts of it. I’ve been sitting like a statue for the past two hours, and the makeup still isn’t finished. I’m so irritated. My hair is done—tied into a bun decorated with flowers—but no one has come to see me since evening. Not a single person. Not even Sahil. He hasn’t even called me today.
An Hour Later
I looked at myself in the mirror. My makeup was perfect, my hair flawless. The jewelry sparkled, and my wedding dress fit me like a dream. I felt so different, so special. Nervous, but happy. From today, a new chapter of my life would begin.
I glanced at myself again in the mirror. Red suits me, I thought. I look like his bride. Cringe-worthy thought, perhaps, but it made me smile. I love this feeling.
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I took a deep breath as the car came to a halt at the venue. My heart raced with nerves. Aayan and Armaan tried to calm me down, but it was no use. I heard Sahil was already inside, waiting for me.
When Aayan opened the car door, a cameraman immediately appeared in front of me, shoving the camera into my face. I shot Aayan a glare and murmured, “Take him away, or I’ll kill him.”
Aayan nodded, smiling politely as he told the cameraman to step aside. I held Aayan’s hand as I stepped out of the car. I noticed that there are too many guards today but nevermind ,He walked me to the entrance, where my father was waiting. He smiled at me, kissed my forehead, and whispered, “Beautiful" , What could be more beautiful than this ,I thought
With my dad beside me, we walked towards the stage. I spotted Sahil standing there, looking dashing and calm. I smiled nervously. As we reached the stage, Sahil stepped forward, extending his hand towards me. I glanced at Dad, who nodded encouragingly. I placed my hand in Sahil’s, and together, we ascended the stage.
Sahil and I sat on the sofa as the Maulvi began the Nikkah.
“Hira, daughter of Sohail Malik, with a haq mehr of 20 lakh, do you accept your marriage to Sahil Ali, son of Faisal Ali?”
Goosebumps covered my skin, and my breath hitched.
“Kya aapko yeh nikkah qubool hai?” the Maulvi asked. I looked at Dad, who nodded, his eyes brimming with tears.
