LOVE WITHOUT DESTINY

part 41

A few days later...

Sitara's living room glowed with a rare warmth, as though sunlight had settled inside the four walls. Sitara sat on the couch, her phone pressed to her ear, her cheeks flushed with excitement. On the other end of the line was Shanaya-Zain's mother-her laughter flowing through the speaker all the way from America, filling the room with music.

Beside Sitara sat her own mother- in-law, dadi, her frail hands folded, eyes glistening. Even age could not hide the joy on her face. This wasn't just ordinary happiness; it was the satisfaction of seeing a lifelong dream about to come true.

"They are already bound by nikkah," Shanaya's voice rang with delight, "but still... I want to see them stand as bride and groom with my own eyes. Zain in his sherwani, Amal as a bride... it will be the happiest day of my life."

Sitara let out a soft laugh, her voice brimming with maternal pride. "Yes, Shanaya. Our children did what destiny had written for them long before. They became one even before we could witness it. But this wedding... this will be for us, for the family. For a mother's heart, for a father's blessing."

Dadi, her eyes bright despite their years, spoke with gentle authority. "It is not just their union anymore-it is the family's celebration. I will not leave this world without seeing Amal dressed as a bride, walking into her new life with all of us around her. This is Allah's gift to me."

A silence, rich with prayers and promises, lingered for a moment. Shanaya closed her eyes on the other side of the world, her lips moving in a silent dua. When she spoke again, her tone was softer, carrying the longing of a mother who had missed so much.
"May Allah grant us that day soon, Sitara. I have imagined it so many times-Zain smiling, Amal lowering her eyes, both of them surrounded by blessings. I want to be there, to hold Amal's hand as my daughter, to see Zain step into the future we all dreamed for him."

Just then, footsteps approached. Imran entered the room, his presence commanding yet warm. He had seen his family's faces glowing for days, and now, as he stepped into this moment, his own expression softened into joy.

"Shanaya!" he called from the doorway, his voice deep with affection. "Where's Arzel? I've been wanting to talk to him."

Sitara quickly angled the phone, her smile widening. Shanaya's laughter came through the line, tender and familiar.

"Arrey bhai sahab," Shanaya answered, "he was just saying he wanted to speak with you. But you know him-some urgent work pulled him outside. He'll be back any moment."

Imran moved closer, his tone rich with gratitude. "Hearing you like this, Shanaya... it feels as though years of sorrow have lifted. I cannot remember the last time this house was filled with such hope."

Sitara turned to him, her eyes misty, her voice thick with emotion. "Why wouldn't it be, Imran? Our children-our Amal, our Zain-they've already become one. But now, Allah is granting us the blessing to see it with our own eyes. This wedding... this is not just theirs, it is ours too."

Dadi's voice trembled, yet held firm conviction. "Yes. A nikkah may bind hearts, but a wedding brings families together. And we will celebrate it the way they deserve."

Shanaya's voice returned, strong and clear despite the miles:
"You're right, Sitara. You're right, bhai sahab. This is our moment as parents, as a family. And we will protect this happiness with all we have."

The conversation continued, weaving dreams of the upcoming ceremony, laughter over plans, and prayers for the future. Across borders and generations, their words carried the same truth: Zain and Amal had already chosen each other, but now their families longed to witness that choice, to turn it into a memory etched forever in their hearts.
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