Chubby nikkah girl ✅

✨6✨

Pov Esan

I didn't have the heart to come but I was there, I was looking at the Ghulam house, beautifully arranged for the occasion, Samira's wedding.

I looked at Harshad from a distance, I didn't like him, he was staring at me, how could he want to marry Samira off to that idiot.

"If you hadn't screwed things up, this would have been your wedding to Samira," my conscience reminded me.

I closed my eyes, my mistakes stood before me, I had pitifully fallen in love with Samira, I laughed, at the moment when I had all the rights, I despised her for her looks and now that she was about to be someone else's, my heart ached for her.

I looked at Rizwan in my arms with his dummy, a month old and restless, he couldn't bear the separation from his aunt, I knew I was horrible as a person.

I pushed her away so violently that day, she fell to the ground, I had to control my whole being not to run near her.

"Listen Samira, the world don't knows us, I don't want anyone to make a reputation of us, and even less for my son to grow up with the idea that his aunt and father are having an affair, I don't want that"

My tone was categorical, I only knew how to hurt her, while she was trying to heal me. I was so unfair to her, I wanted to tell her the whole truth and make her accept me, but it's only in the films that it happens like that, I doubt that in reality she'd throw herself into my arms, which is why I preferred to stay away from her, even more so when she's about to become someone else's wife, it's shameful for me, the husband of his dead sister, to have feelings for her who's about to get married, I can't give her a reputation like that, she deserves better than that, that's why I preferred to break her heart again.

"Esan, can you go and put that in Samira's room and put down that blanket," asked Mrs Ghulam.

I was trying to find a way to refuse Mrs Ghulam's request to take my son from my arms, smiling, and give me a gift pack.

I smiled ironically, I didn't even want to come, now I had to go and meet her, so I stomped off and opened the door to her room. I was relieved to see that no one was there. I was about to leave when I heard the sound of sobbing stop me.

I turned round, it was coming from the back of the bed, my eyes opened wide as I looked at the massacre that had taken place.

"SaMIRra, WHAT the hell IS this ?" I asked, grabbing the box cutter she was holding, ready to slice a vein.

My anger was getting the better of me, she was ready to die, I shook her, hoping to make her realise the seriousness of her act.

"You've got to be kidding me. Is the ordeal you're going through so unbearable that you've lost faith in your creator that you were ready to take away the life he gave you?" I asked her, ranting.

She threw herself into my arms, frightened of me, I held her close, gently, I'd been so scared.

"Tell me why you were about to do that," I asked her in a softer tone.

"Esan, I don't want to get married, this Harshad is bad" she confessed.

She was telling me everything he'd been through, from the first time he looked at her to the time he tried to molest her, and I was losing my temper.

"Have you told your parents?" i ask

She lowered her head in shame, "They told me that it was because he considered me his future wife that he allowed himself to touch me, and that with my weight, it would be difficult to find another suitor," she admitted sadly.

My blood boiled, how could they treat their daughter like that, leave her to that pervert, it was impossible for him to keep her happy. I couldn't let this marriage happen.

"I'm fed up, being plump was a crime? I can't take it any more, I just wanted to marry someone who would love me with sincerity, I would have had children with him instead I find myself marrying a bad man" she said desperately

"It's your fault Esan, if you hadn't given her away that day, she wouldn't have been in this ordeal" my conscience whispered to me.

It was true, I was going to take responsibility. "Samira, you will not marry this Harshad, no one will force you" I told her confidently.

She looked at me with hope but incomprehension.

"Do you trust me?" I asked her.

She nodded, and I helped her to her feet, took her discreetly out of the house and into my car.

I drove straight to the mosque, where I was going to sort out her problems.