𝕱or the next two days, the entire house went over wedding plans. For my mother, the wedding was as much about image as it was about helping us. And she rose to the occasion spectacularly. At my behest and Taimoor's intervention to get us all out of his hair, Asfand and I were to be married in a rooftop garden, overlooking the hills at sunset.

A dream wedding, really.

It was the antithesis of how I had pictured my wedding. The theme of my imagined nuptials would have been modern. Chic, black-tie, smoky jazz, and chandeliers a bright and bold celebration. Making professional inroads at my own wedding would have been a given. I would have been marrying to continue my name. The fast-paced, often ugly, no-time-to-cry business of networking and keep your social status intact.

But I'd never, not once, envisioned myself getting married in a rooftop ceremony at dusk, followed by drinks and intimate mingling with everyone. There would be flowers and a cake, musicians, and ribbons. It would be small, held in the grandest rooftop garden at sunset.

Flawless beauty greeted my eyes and a crisp breeze blew the white curtains aside. Heavy monsoon rains the night before left the entire world fresh and green, and each breath I took felt like being reborn. The flowers along the walls swayed gently as soft sunlight bathed the area. The setting was unmatched. The hills were clear as a bell in the distance, smothered in sunshine. The greenery putting its best foot forward, rows of lush greens and rich browns rolled out like shiny ribbons in the flattering evening light.

Today was the day.

Sara had outdone herself with the flower arrangements, guiding the event planner and her small team, to create a tasteful color scheme of cream and blue with pops of peach woven into the ribbons, somehow grasping my style without me having to say a word.

Asfand's mother had taken charge of the arrangements and a tent for the small reception was already in the process of being erected and decked out at the club.

Everything was ready to go and I didn't even have my dress on yet.

Hair and makeup was done - my glam team had taken care of that. Everything was being handled.

All I needed to do was get married.

And yet, I searched for the one person who'd made all of this possible. Who'd barricaded himself inside his wing so we would not be disturbed. Who had gone against his nature to make this possible.

He was avoiding me.

And I knew why. But being his twin, he should have been aware that I wasn't going to let this go. Knowing he was watching me, I dropped to the ground, the grass cushioning my fall, the light scent of moss and nature filling my nostrils.

"I hope that's not how you're planning to get married."

"Nice to see your brain hasn't completely rotted away while you skulked in the dark."

He looked at me, his expression unreadable. "I was giving you space."

"You were hiding," I said after letting his features continue to fall to the shadows. "Wait, don't leave."

"What?"

My heart sank in my chest painfully. "Thank you."

"I haven't done anything."

"You did everything," his expression faded into a darkness I was slowly becoming accustomed to. It only tended to happen when he thought he wasn't getting his way or he thought I might be wanting to do something he wouldn't approve of. "You're the reason I have him."

"Take care of him, he's not like us," he said gravelly. "He's a good man."

"And so are you."

Taimoor exhaled, deep and steady. "I'm not going to go up in front of all of the people-"

"I never expected you to."

"I've signed the Nikkah document as your wali," his face was a mix of apprehension and nervousness. Like he didn't know how I would react to this news. "Let Azaan be the witness."

Our eyes met and held and held and held. I knew he was trying to accustom himself to the changes my decision would bring and to not judge me for what I'd done. Hew was also trying not to hide from me, something I greatly appreciated. There was no possible way to tell him what his effort and concern meant to me. So I did the next best thing.

I showed it to him.

He rocketed back as I lurched into his arms and buried my face into his chest.

"I love you, you know that?"

Taimoor became stiff as a board and for a few moments I thought he'd just let me hang there until I gave up and let him go. Was this the first time someone had touched him after the accident? Did he miss the feeling of being wrapped in a loved one's arms? Those questions made me wrap my arms around him even tighter. We weren't a family that expressed ourselves easily or a lot, but falling in love with Asfand had proven to me that there was room to change. Improvements to be made.

Slowly, so slowly that I counted up to fifty in my head, a tentative arm rose up and draped itself loosely over my back and Taimoor cleared his throat, his voice thick with emotion. "He's made you soft."

"Oh shut up."

His lips twitched. "Go, you need to get dressed."

"You'll be here right? For the ceremony?"

"I'll be watching."

He had just extracted himself and moved out of eyesight when my phone buzzed in my pocket. When I saw my father's name on the screen, the warm fuzzies I'd gotten from my conversation with Taimoor vanished.

It couldn't be a coincidence that he'd called on my wedding day. I stepped into a small opening at the edge of the venue and I answered.

"Father."

There was a short burst of air on the other end, then my father's voice came through clear. "Zeenia, you're going to call this off immediately. What are people going to think when your family isn't in attendance? When I'm not in attendance at my own daughter's wedding?"

A hundred yards ahead, I could see Sara and the wedding team bustling around in her jeans and a sky-blue halter top, securing big, bright boughs of white daisies to the aisle chairs where the ceremony itself would start in about an hour.

What was family? And more importantly, why did it come with conditions?

"Who told you I was getting married? I know it wasn't mother."

Could it be one of the staff? But they'd all signed iron clad NDA's.

His sigh was woven with resignation. "I have a lot of friends at the club."

"And you're more upset about how this reflects on you than the fact that you aren't invited to your daughter's wedding?"

His long-suffering sigh was interrupted by someone speaking to him in French, a woman. He responded to her in kind. "Don't do this. That boy doesn't deserve you."

That rendered me momentarily speechless.

"Now you have my best interests at heart? Not when I was being locked up?" the ground seemed to be quaking beneath my feet, so I sat down on an overturned crate.

"This is outrageous. You're marrying a nobody. And for what? Do you have any idea what the rest of them would think? What they'll say?" he snapped in an ice-cold tone.

"Not that I expect you to understand this, but I think they'll say that we make a perfect couple are very much in love."

"Love, pffft. There's no such thing as love for a Mughal. He's no one. A nobody. You're tying him to my legacy."

"Actually, it's my legacy," I pushed through my teeth, anger sweeping through me at such an alarming rate, I almost fell off the crate. "My life."

"You are my daughter-"

"Soon to be his wife! You'll never understand what I see in him because you've never valued those attributes in a person. I know you love me in your own way father, despite all evidence pointing towards the contrary, I've chosen to hang on to that. As for Asfand... he listens to me and tries to understand me when I can barely understand myself most of the time. He wants me to believe in love. To be a better person, why won't you want that for your daughter?" I stood up and started to pace. "He's reliable. And funny. He's one of the only people I've ever met who genuinely makes me laugh. I don't have to fake it. And I care about him. I'm not calling off the wedding. Your rules are bullshit, your legacy is nothing but an ode to the past. I love him and I'm marrying him."

"Your grandfather isn't happy Zeenia, he won't stand for it and soon you'll realise there's a reason why these rules were in place. Those expectations. That legacy."

Sadness threatened to overwhelm me but I shoved it down - I couldn't afford to be sad. I had grabbed my happiness and I was willing to do whatever it took to save it.

"Good. Then he'll get to say I told you so. Bonsoir, Father."

༻❂༺

It took a lot to impress my persnickety younger brother, so I watched him as I came down the steps in my dress.

"Wow."

"Well glad to see you approve."

He ran a hand through this unruly hair, and then let me fix his crooked waistcoat. "You look stunning Nia."

"Good because I am already exhausted beyond belief right now," I laughed and pushed some of stray hair out of his face. My heart felt impossibly full. This hardly seemed real.

As we made our way down the corridor, I felt the nerves settle in. The air was scented with roses and jasmine, an intoxicating smell that made my head spin. Just before we entered, we paused.

The crowd fell silent.

Gooseflesh broke out across my body, and my stomach felt like it was getting sucked into a whirlpool. My mind spun.

Feeling eyes upon me, I looked up to find there was only one. Asfand stood in front of a floral altar looking at me in a wedding dress with total, unabashed awe. Dressed in an ivory shalwar kameez and knee length coat, he looked every bit of the prince he was.

With his eyes on me, tracking every expression of my face, I felt beautiful. I felt wanted. I felt happy. We stood there for a moment, just staring at one another. His gaze bounced from my eyes to my mouth to my hair and back, like he making a mental map of my face. It should have put me more on edge, but I realised I was doing the same to him, soaking up every little detail of his face. He was stunning and I felt like I was like looking at the sun. It wasn't every day a girl was privy to that compelling of a moment.

Oh... my God. Why were my eyes burning?

"Hi," I whispered. I looked around him, and tears filled my eyes at the sight of all parts of my family and friends standing together to support me. To support Asfand. I'd convinced my mother to keep the guest list on the intimate side and while she hadn't liked it, for once, she hadn't argued about it.

"You're early, I expected to wait for another half an hour," every nerve responded to the tone of his voice, my body tightening like a bowstring.

"What can I say? I live to be unpredictable."

He lifted my hand to his lips. Slowly, tenderly, he kissed the flesh of my palm, light as a butterfly wing."Touché."

And then we got to the ceremony.

The one that would seal this whole deal.

With the words I hoped to carry for the rest of my life.

"Yes," I'd barely managed to say that out loud and the entire place erupted in applause. Maybe he looked at me. I didn't know. I had my gaze downcast, trying to keep my calm. Trying not to cry.

"Need to get this on your finger love, I've been waiting years for this."

I couldn't imagine what it must have been like for him to know what was done to his family but still try to be kind to my family, to be there for my brother, for me. My heart hurt to think of him so lonely and desolate, waiting for me, going through life like a shadow of himself because he was missing the other half of his soul. He hadn't let his dream go even when he knew there might not have been a chance for him to romance me, making me fall for him just like that.

The sight of him stirred my pulse, just as before. I watched as he produced the wedding ring that was clearly designed to go with my engagement ring. It was made of black diamonds in a shape that had it cupping the shorter point of the shaped stone on my finger.

"Perfect," Asfand kissed my fingers again and I felt my throat close.

A shadow moved towards the back and I leaned into my husbands chest, both of us watching Taimoor exit the premises before anyone could see him.

"He's coming around isn't he?"

"Definitely better than yesterday," his brow was knit as his fingers skimmed over my arms. The fading light played over us as we observed Azaan get scolded by my mother. "He's not ready to come out of the shadows. Not yet."

"What if it's not ever?"

"He'll find someone. Someone that'll force him to come out into the light," his tone was even, but I could sense his worry. He didn't want to grow my fears, he didn't want to make me unhappy, but it was obvious he thought about this as well.

"You really think so?"

"I believe so."

"How is she going to find him? He barely gets out as it is! Will she have to scale the walls of Mughal House to get to him?"

"Look at you, already thinking of matching your brother up," he responded by kissing my forehead. "He needs his space right now. Needs to focus on himself. Best thing we can do is be there for him. His future will unfurl in due course, and when it's time, I have no doubt that she'll find him."

Begrudgingly, I admitted that he was likely right. "Here's hoping."

༻❂༺

As if given an invisible cue, a server rushed forward with flutes for the two of us. Taking both of them in his hand, he handed one to me, Asfand raised it in the air.

"To my beautiful wife, Zeenia!" he announced as the guests all stood and raised their glasses.

"To Asfand and Zeenia!" Azaan shouted from the crowd.

"To Asfand and Zeenia!" everyone echoed in unison, the ground rumbling from the noise. Everyone tipped up their glasses and I rushed to do the same. The music immediately started to play again, and the tent buzzed with excited energy.

"I know this would be splendid," Sara mumbled, her arms linked with Danial, her eyes on my reception dress, a very special present from our mutual friend in Monaco. While I did like my fashion, I'd preferred her simple and sleek style for this occasion, a timeless design. The simple creamy pearl-colored silk dress for the reception had a hem that nearly made my shoes disappear entirely. The bodice was demure but not prudish, and the straps were thin, leaving my tanned shoulders bare. For once I was not only darkness, I was also the moonlight and the stars.

"And you deserve to party tonight," the corners of my mouth tipped up as I couldn't help the giddiness that mounted inside of me.

"Can't argue with that," she said, grabbing another drink. "Go mingle."

"Do you want to go meet the people Mrs. Mughal-Affandi?" Asfand asked, his smile beaming.

"Can't avoid it."

Over the next few hours, we hugged strangers and shook hands. Our smiles were genuine and kind, and we made sure no one felt abandoned or ignored. As the Mughal princess, I'd always taken this role seriously, and now Asfand was right by my side. We endured the stares and the bows, the endless introductions. Everyone wanted to look at us, speak to us. Tired and relieved, we met the cluster of the social elite and tried to act graciously, ignoring the questions beneath their polite responses.

Asfand as always remained unruffled, not even flinching at the questions, moving me along once he saw I was done with the conversation. The sun had long set, and I was exhausted down to the marrow in my bones. I clutched at his arm as if it were a lifeline and plastered a polite smile on my face as I scanned the room for an exit. God, it was hard to even pick up my feet, let alone push them forward.

"I've got the car ready, we can leave right now."

I rested my head against his chest. "No, I don't want to ruin this, your mother planned this out."

"She'll understand," I was distracted by Asfand's warm hands on my frigid ones as he said. "This is more for them than it is for us."

"You can't risk your mother's wrath for me," I couldn't help but voice my worries.

"That's overstating it."

I shook my head, my lips curling up in a hesitant smile. "But I am stating it."

"We got married today Zee, why don't we dance?"

"After you."

The look he gave me was intense, as if he couldn't believe that I was here, in his arms, touching him. My mouth dried as I stared at him - it was he who looked the part of an immovable god.

"Way to ease my mind," with my head on his chest, right over his heart, I listened to the rhythm of his beats, finding that they matched mine perfectly. Ours was a sweeping slow dance, there was no need to rush anything tonight.

"Happy to help. Your worries are my worries now-" he punctuated each point with a soft kiss on my cheek. "Your dreams are my dreams. Your goals are my goals. Your family is my family. Your heart is mine. My heart is yours. We're going to be fine."

"I don't deserve you," I said softly.

"I disagree," he tucked me closer, our bodies aligning, and I realized how strangely wonderful it was to feel small, to feel protected. I'd always been the predator, the one with the weapon in hand.

The guests watched.

Even with the dance and drinks and lights and flowers and food, there was nothing in the room more interesting than the two of us. It was another historic moment, for the Mughal Princess to dance with her Prince consort. As the music drew to a close, Asfand paused, and traced his hand up my face. Every eye upon us, he took my chin lightly in his hand. Perfect, controlled, an immaculate prince.

"I'm going to kiss you," he murmured.

"I thought you'd never ask," I replied. His lips quirked.

"I was not asking," he said, lowering his head to the sound of hoots and clapping fading into the background.

༻❂༺

Two weeks later Asfand led the way to the doors from the circular driveway out of a blacked-out Escalade keeping hold of my hand as I stepped out onto the curb and he followed me inside the house.

Since we were considered to be partially social pariahs, even after Sara had very sneakily and strategically leaked our pictures to the press, Asfand had decided that we would have our first honeymoon in the northern parts of Pakistan. Which made sense since he was still on the ECL and I didn't want to risk complete exposure.

And besides, we'd already travelled all over Europe, so a mini holiday inside Pakistan wasn't such a bad idea. And now I finally knew what all those errands were for because the place he'd chosen? It was stunning.

So much so that I'd marvelled over it once I'd gotten over my initial shock. I guess I figured a man like him would be all about that sleek, industrial look.

But no.

The whole space felt warm and inviting, if a bit masculine, but not in an oppressive way. The walls were exposed red brick, the floors dark hardwood, and the ceilings were exposed wooden beams stained to match the floor. Except for in one area where there was a closed-off loft. The bedroom.

And there was only one.

In the center of the room was the living room with a giant brick fireplace that seemed to separate the living room with its framed flatscreen, brown leather couches, and a long, low table behind the couches filled with what looked like a huge collection of old records with the player perched on top.

There were more exposed brick and windows to the side, but also an all-black kitchen. The cabinets and cupboards, the countertop, and all the appliances looked to be black stainless steel.

The vaulted ceilings, and the creeping ivy across the old leaded windowpanes. The smell of wood smoke at dawn, and the pristine blanket of dew and frost across the lawns on mornings. I loved the cabin and sitting on the hearth of the fireplace in the living room, reading a book while the crackling fire toasted my back. Windows lined the whole front of the cabin, letting in a fair amount of light. We were in a secluded area, nestled in the woods, unbearably romantic.

The special moments Asfand and I had shared here were innumerable.

It felt like home.

While we had been stuck indoors, staying warm beneath the blankets, watching back-to-back movies, I itched to go outside and explore. To go hiking. To snuggle with my husband outside, under the stars. To enjoy the anonymity this place provided. Only when the storm that seemed so set on ruining our trip had broken, we'd taken the car and ventured out into the world, on a mission for groceries.

Just as we got inside, the bell rang. Asfand, who was in the process of putting the bags on the counter, started to move towards the door but I stopped him, gesturing that I would do it. His mouth set in a grim line, he agreed, though I could sense him dumping everything on the counter to hurry after me.

I opened the door and raindrops danced in the air, hovering as if suspended there by magic. A young boy, dressed in a suit, stood outside the door, his entire being huddled inside a single umbrella.

"Yes?"

"Miss. Zeenia Mughal?"

"Mrs. Mughal-Affandi," I corrected automatically. "Who are you?"

"My name's Yahya, I was tasked with bringing this to you."

I reached out to accept the package, a heavy brown box. "What's this? Who's it from?"

"It's a special delivery," he gave me a brief nod and then took his leave. "Enjoy the rest of your day ma'am."

Ma'am. Him calling me Miss. Mughal. This had to be from my family.

"What is it?"

I smiled at him. "A special delivery."

Asfand frowned. "From who?"

"There's no card-" and I had three guesses to consider but before I could say the names, my mouth opened in a gasp. Both Asfand and I stared at the box, aghast.

My lips trembled with happiness, and I turned to him, a brilliant smile stretching across my face. Asfand's expression echoed mine, yet there was still a trace of disbelief, as if he could barely believe this was happening.

"Is that your tiara?" he met my eyes, and a wide smile deepening his cheeks. "The one from the Gala?"

I tried to laugh, but it came out sounding more like a sob. "It's over. Oh my God it's over. We won."

He kissed me hard on the lips, relief sparkling in his eyes. "You've won love."

Tears trickled down my cheeks before he was on me, pulling me to his chest and hugging me, murmuring comforting words in my ears.

"It's over," I repeated over and over, and this time my voice cracked.

"It's done," cupping my cheeks, he lay soft kisses all over my skin. "My love. You did it, it's over. God I love you."

"I love you too," I murmured against his lips.

We melded together, fitting like the sides of a coin, unable to tell half from whole. We hung to each other for what seemed like an eternity. I inhaled his scent, and my heart soared. Our bond went beyond marriage, maybe even beyond regular love, for we were truly one - only ever complete when we were together. Like a steady rock being hit by the strongest torrent, he'd staunchly been by my side in the darkest hours. He'd been most selfless when I'd been at my most selfish.

And I couldn't have been more grateful.

He was light and fire, to my smoke and darkness. I leaned into him, wanting more and ran my hands up into his dark hair, tugging him toward me, binding him in my arms.

His was a soul I had claimed forever.

I for him, and he for me.

It was all that I'd ever wanted.

♛ ༻❂༺ ♛