Shehryaar left his home towards an unknown turn which led him to fall, literally down the valley and metaphorically for the girl who became his home.
Dive in to this short story for good movements, a lot of smiles, some tears and heart full of love...
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The hand squeezed hers and she looked up at her mother, her eyes red withholding the moisture for so long. Manizeh nodded at her and she blinked to let her tears drop.
The thick net separated her from the man who sat listening to whatever the marriage officiator said, stating the meaning of marriage and its significance. Her father sat beside him, holding his hand under the covered cloth, handing over his daughter's fate to him.
"Qubool hai," Shehryaar said.
"Do you, Shehryaar bin Firoz take Azeen bint Habib as your wife to protect, love, and cherish?" The Qazi repeated his question for one last time and their eyes met, she averted quickly, not being able to see the promise his grey eyes held.
"Qubool hai," he said without missing a beat.
It was her chance now, to speak the words which will seal her life with him.
"Do you, Azeen bint Habib take Shehryaar bin Firoz as your husband to love, support, and cherish?" Qazi repeated his question one last time.
"Qubool hai" She whispered for the Qaazi to hear from behind the veiled partition in the mosque, this one louder than the last two times.
The murmurs in the mosque started, some congratulating her parents, some talking about this impromptu wedding, some gossiping about his existence, and others being themselves cooking up stories to entertain their life.
"Mubarak Azeen, bohut mubarak ho." Saleha, Ahmed Sahab's wife patted her head with a face that said she knew everything behind this fiasco.
"Mubarak" A dry scoff came from Shafiqa who enjoyed the scene sitting on a little distance from Azeen, she and her mother-in-law had sat with smug faces as the nikah was performed.
"Come, Azeen," Manizeh whispered to her daughter who did not look up but stared at the embroideries on her simple red Anarkali dress. That was the only option available to be termed as bridal attire at such short notice.
The red floor-length Anarkali but simple and beautiful with a golden border intricately woven into the soft fabric, it was paired with a dupatta used as a veil, the netted fabric with a heavy border had her face covered leaving her eyes to see through the fabric.
Taking small steps she walked to the other side of the partition to sign the documents with no other males but family.
Her father kissed her forehead with tears in his eyes, she couldn't make out of they were from joy or anguish of being tied to a deadline to protect her.
Zain smiled brightly at his sister, taking her hand gently as he brought her near Shehryaar who sat infront of the officiator.
He looked up and smiled at her which she couldn't reciprocate, not yet. He had changed into a simple white pathani which once her father wore at his own wedding. She couldn't pinpoint the emotion when she saw him accepting the attire without another word but a smile filled with gratitude. She didn't know him yet the small gesture made her heart content to a certain extent.
