Chapter 1
Yes i do...
Start writing heThe maulana asked once more, "Do you accept Mr. Hakim Hussain as your spouse?" The words echoed in her mind, a stark contrast to the muted chaos within her. She managed to whisper, "Yes, I do." Her voice, barely audible, wavered with uncertainty. The maulana repeated the question, and again, she replied, "I do."
Her groom, Mr. Hakim Hussain, observed her closely. Her small face, pale and drawn with fear, contrasted sharply with her crimson eyes, nose, and cheeks. Tears streamed down her face, her sobs barely contained as she sat on the floor, the soft carpet beneath her offering little comfort. Her hands, trembling in her lap, betrayed her anxiety as she continuously rubbed her fingers together.
Every repetition of the maulana's words felt like a nail being driven into her heart. The room seemed to close in around her, the faces of those present a blur. Her breaths came in short, shallow bursts, each one a struggle. Her vision, clouded by tears, landed on her groom. His expression was unreadable, adding to the mounting tension within her.
The intensity of the moment weighed heavily on her, the significance of her words sinking in. She was on the brink of a new life, one she hadn't fully chosen for herself. The room, filled with hushed whispers and curious glances, became a backdrop to her inner turmoil. The ceremony continued, but for her, time seemed to stand still, each second stretching into eternity.
The maulana then turned to the groom, Mr. Hakim Hussain. "Do you accept Ms. Meeral Abdul Raheem as your bride?" he asked. Hakim barely heard the words, his focus entirely on Meeral. He could see her distress, her face a portrait of fear and uncertainty.
"Yes, I do," he replied, his voice firm but his eyes betraying a hint of concern. The maulana repeated the question, and once again, Hakim responded, "Yes, I do." With each affirmation, his gaze remained fixed on Meeral, her trembling hands and tear-streaked face etching themselves into his memory.
"Do you accept Ms. Meeral Abdul Raheem as your bride?" the maulana asked for the third time. Hakim, feeling the weight of the moment, looked directly at Meeral and said, "Yes, I do."
As the final words left his mouth, he noticed Meeral's eyes close tightly. She clutched her hands together, her knuckles white from the pressure. The room seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with the gravity of the vows exchanged.
Hakim could see the struggle within her, and it struck him deeply. The ceremony was moving forward, but in that moment, he realized the depth of her fear and the magnitude of what was happening.
A few days earlier:
Mehreen Begum was making breakfast for everyone and shouting, "Adheel, Mehreen, come my children, have breakfast! You will be late for school again!"
Meeral was carefully packing her school bag, her hands moving swiftly and confidently. She hummed a cheerful tune as she worked, her energy palpable. The room was bright and filled with the morning sun, which streamed through the large window, casting a warm glow over everything. Her bed was neatly made, with colorful cushions and a plush toy perched on top.
On her desk, a small lamp stood next to her organized school supplies, each item in its designated place. The air was fresh, carrying a faint scent of flowers from the garden below. Her favorite posters adorned the walls, and a small bookshelf in the corner was crammed with her beloved novels and textbooks.
She glanced at the clock on the wall, a smile spreading across her face. She double-checked her bag, making sure she hadn't forgotten anything. Her movements were brisk and precise, a reflection of her enthusiasm for the day ahead.
A soft knock on the door made her turn, her smile widening as she called out, "Coming!" She grabbed her bag and, with a last, satisfied look around her room, she straightly went to the dining area.
The path from Meeral's room to the dining area was as follows: Her room was on the second floor of the house. As she stepped out of her room, there was a short corridor adorned with old photographs on the walls. At the end of the corridor were wooden stairs that creaked lightly with each step.
Descending the stairs, she arrived at a large door that led to the dining area. On either side of the door hung beautiful curtains, and inside, a large table was set with breakfast. The room was filled with light because of the large windows that allowed the morning sun to stream in.
Meeral paused for a moment, taking it all in, then slowly made her way to the dining area.
After reaching the dining table, Meeral put her bag on the table and was about to sit when her mother came in with a plate of parathas. "Oh Meeral, please go and check on Adheel. Why is he so late?" she said.
Meeral gave her mother a done look with a pout, then reluctantly left for Adheel's room.
The path to Adheel's room was familiar and well-trodden. From the dining area, Meeral walked through a spacious living room with comfortable sofas and a large coffee table in the center. The room was decorated with family photos and a few potted plants that added a touch of greenery.
She turned left down a hallway lined with framed pictures of their childhood memories. The wooden floor creaked slightly under her feet, a sound she had grown used to over the years. The hallway was dimly lit, with light filtering in from the rooms on either side.
At the end of the hallway was Adheel's room. The door was slightly ajar, and she could hear faint sounds of movement inside. She knocked gently, then pushed the door open. Adheel's room was a typical teenager's space, with posters of his favorite sports teams on the walls, a cluttered desk covered with books and gadgets, and a bed that was only half-made.
"Adheel, ami is calling you for breakfast. Hurry up, or you'll be late for school," she called out, stepping into the room.
Adheel said, "Just coming. And you, come here, please. Come, come," he added sarcastically.
Meeral sighed and walked inside, standing in front of him. Just then, he tightly grabbed her ear, his grip firm and unyielding. "Why, Meeru? Just tell me why you can't call me 'Bhai' when I'm four years older than you," he demanded, his voice a mixture of frustration and teasing.
"Aahhh, Bhai, it's hurting, please!" Meeral cried out, her eyes watering from the pain.
A victorious smile spread across Adheel's face as he slowly released her ear. "There you go. That wasn't so hard, was it?" he said, his tone dripping with satisfaction. Meeral rubbed her ear, glaring at him with a mixture of annoyance and relief.
Meeral, still rubbing her sore ear, shot back, "Why do you take so much time getting ready, like a woman preparing for a wedding? Look, I only take 15 minutes, and I'm a girl!"
Adheel stepped closer, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Just look at yourself, from your head to your shoes, and then look at me. And let me remind you, you're also not fully ready. Go and wear your scarf."
Meeral glanced down at herself. Her appearance was okay but not perfect. Her hair was hastily tied back, and her school uniform, though neat, lacked the final touches. Her shoes were scuffed and not freshly polished.
In contrast, Adheel was impeccably dressed. His white shirt was crisply ironed and tucked neatly into his gray pants. His hair was firmly settled, giving him a polished and composed look. The difference between them was stark, and Meeral couldn't help but feel a pang of self-consciousness.
"Fine, I'm going," she muttered, turning on her heel and heading back to her room to grab her scarf, leaving Adheel smirking behind her.
Meeral hurried back to her room, her cheeks flushed with a mix of irritation and embarrassment. She grabbed her scarf, hastily wrapping it around her head. As she made her way back to the dining hall, she could hear Adheel's footsteps following closely behind her, each step echoing with an unspoken challenge.
Entering the dining hall, she tried to compose herself, but the tension was palpable. She could feel Adheel's presence right behind her, his earlier taunt still lingering in the air. She sat down at the table, her movements stiff and deliberate.
Adheel walked in a moment later, his demeanor calm and composed, but his eyes still held that victorious glint. He took his seat across from her, the silent tension between them almost tangible.
Their mother, unaware of the silent battle between her children, placed a plate of parathas in front of Meeral. "Here you go, sweetheart," she said with a warm smile, oblivious to the storm brewing between her son and daughter.
Meeral avoided Adheel's gaze, focusing intently on her breakfast. Her heart was pounding, her mind replaying their earlier exchange. She could feel his eyes on her, a silent reminder of the confrontation they had just had.
Adheel, sensing her discomfort, couldn't resist one last remark. "See, Meeral? A little effort goes a long way," he said, his tone smug but laced with brotherly teasing.
Meeral clenched her jaw, forcing herself to stay calm. She knew better than to rise to his bait again. Instead, she took a deep breath, focusing on the warmth of the paratha in her hands, determined to not let her brother ruin her morning any further.
However, the tension quickly turned playful. Meeral, unable to resist, tore off a small piece of her paratha and flicked it at Adheel. "Oh really? Maybe you should focus on eating instead of talking," she quipped.
Adheel grinned, catching the piece of paratha mid-air. "You think you're so clever, don't you?" He retaliated by flicking a piece of his paratha back at her.
Their mother turned around, raising an eyebrow at the sight of her two children engaged in their playful exchange. "Behave, both of you," she said with a stern yet amused tone.
Meeral and Adheel exchanged mischievous glances before bursting into laughter. The tension melted away, replaced by the familiar warmth of sibling rivalry.
Meeral stuck her tongue out at Adheel. "You're still slower than me, even if you're dressed like a prince."
Adheel rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress his smile. "And you, little princess, are still a mess."
She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes. "At least I don't take forever in front of the mirror. What's the matter, Adheel? Scared someone might see your bedhead?"
Adheel chuckled, reaching for another paratha. "It’s called being thorough. You could learn a thing or two."
Meeral scoffed. "Thorough? You mean vain!"
With a swift move, Adheel grabbed a spoon and pretended to wield it like a sword. "Careful, or I’ll knight you with my mighty spoon!"
Giggling, Meeral picked up her fork, matching his playful stance. "Bring it on, Sir Adheel!"
Their mock sword fight began, with utensils clashing and laughter echoing through the room. They darted around the table, their playful banter filling the air.
Adheel pretended to be struck by Meeral’s fork, clutching his chest dramatically. "Oh no, I’ve been bested by a mere girl!"
Meeral laughed, basking in her mock victory. "That’s right, bow to your queen!"
Their mother, watching the whole scene unfold, couldn't help but smile. "Alright, you two, enough with the antics. Finish your breakfast."
The siblings, still grinning, settled back into their seats. Adheel, his eyes twinkling with mischief, leaned over and whispered, "Truce?"
Meeral nodded, still giggling. "Truce. But remember, I won this round."
Adheel laughed, shaking his head. "You wish, Meeru. You wish." He then added with a mischievous grin, "You know, I'll tell Abba to make you marry a man who lives far away from Quetta so we can live our lives in peace."
Meeral's eyes widened in mock horror. "I will never get married to anyone and will stay in this house forever!" she declared, crossing her arms defiantly.
Their mother chuckled at their banter, shaking her head. "You two are impossible," she said, but the warmth in her voice betrayed her amusement and love for her spirited children.
The dining hall, now filled with warmth and laughter, saw the two siblings enjoying their breakfast, their earlier tension dissolved in the joy of their playful fight.
How the happy Meeral got into a tragic nikah ?
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