Roshaane and Aarib stepped into the grand hall, warm golden lights reflecting off the polished floor. Turkish women in elegant dresses moved gracefully through the room, carrying trays of sweets, flowers, and gifts.

The moment Hikmat entered with them, his family greeted them with bright smiles.

Hikmat’s mother approached first, hugging Roshaane warmly.
“Hoş geldiniz, kızım. Welcome, my daughter.”

His sister took Roshaane’s hand with excitement while his grandmother blessed her with a soft kiss on her forehead. Aarib nodded respectfully, slightly overwhelmed by the warmth.

Roshaane felt as if she had stepped into a world where hearts were open, smiles were real, and affection was effortless.

Everyone gathered in the center of the hall as the bride and groom sat on beautifully decorated chairs. A hush fell over the crowd when the eldest woman of the family, Hikmat’s grandmother—stepped forward holding a red ribbon and a pair of golden scissors.

The rings were brought out on a velvet cushion.

Aarib and Roshaane watched for the first time as the traditional engagement ritual unfolded.

The grandmother gently tied the red ribbon around both rings, connecting the bride and groom's hands with it. She whispered a prayer in Turkish, invoking blessings, love, and protection over their union.

Then, with everyone clapping softly, she lifted the golden scissors and
snipped the red ribbon, marking the engagement officially.

Cheers echoed around the hall.

Women ululated happily.
Men applauded.
Children ran around excitedly.

Roshaane’s eyes sparkled with awe.
She leaned slightly toward Hikmat’s sister Zainab.

“It’s beautiful… I’ve never seen this ceremony before.”

Hikmat’s sister smiled warmly, holding her hand.
“This ribbon is a symbol. Two hearts tied together… and blessed by family before the cut brings them into a new beginning.”

Roshaane felt warmth spread through her chest. For the first time in Turkey, she felt truly included.
---
Only close family and select guests remained, sitting in Hikmat’s cozy open-air lawn filled with glowing lanterns. The scent of tea, roasted nuts, and night flowers lingered softly in the air.

Aarib and Roshaane sat together among them, watching families laugh and celebrate.

The bride’s family stayed too, enjoying late-night sweets and music.
Someone played a lively Turkish song on the speakers, and couples immediately stood up to dance.

Laughter.
Music.
Clapping.
Joy.

Then Hikmat stood up with a mischievous grin.

“You two — come on!”

Before they could react, he grabbed Aarib’s arm and Roshaane’s hand, pulling them toward the center.

Aarib shook his head.
“Hikmat, please…”

But Hikmat was determined.
“Tonight no one stays seated! Let your heart dance a little, kardeşim.”

Roshaane looked up at Aarib timidly, as if asking permission.
He sighed softly, defeated by the moment and by her hopeful eyes.

And so, under lantern lights and Turkish music, Aarib and Roshaane found themselves standing face-to-face…

Still strangers in many ways.
Still bound by unspoken silence.
But this night—this dance—would bring them one step closer.

The music grew lively as more couples filled the center of the lawn. Women twirled, men clapped in rhythm, children laughed as they spun around their parents. It was a joyful Turkish folk dance — full of life, warmth, and family spirit.

But in the middle of all that color and celebration…

Stood Aarib and Roshaane.

Hikmat stepped aside, clapping to encourage them like everyone else.
“Come on! Just follow the rhythm!” he called.

Roshaane lifted her hands slightly the way she saw the other women doing. Aarib mirrored her steps — not out of enthusiasm, but simply because everyone was looking at them.

They began to dance.

Not together…
Just beside each other.

Their movements matched the beat, but their expressions were blank.
Couples around them exchanged shy smiles, playful nudges, soft laughter.

But Roshaane and Aarib…

They were stiff.
Silent.
A world away from each other despite standing inches apart.

At one point, their eyes met.

Only for a second.

Her gaze held a question.
His held a barrier.

Neither spoke.
Neither smiled.
Neither softened.

They continued the simple steps, a small turn, a light movement of hands, a gentle clap but the coldness between them clung like winter frost.

Roshaane tried, just once, to let the corner of her lips lift…
A tiny attempt to melt the ice.

Aarib’s jaw tightened.
He looked away.

She swallowed her disappointment and followed the rhythm again.

People around them admired the couple’s grace, unaware of the silent storm between them.
The lanterns glowed.
Music soared.
Families danced with joyful hearts…

But theirs refused to speak.

By the time the song ended, they both stepped back at the exact same moment almost like strangers who had accidentally bumped into each other in a crowd.

Hikmat clapped loudly, smiling wide.

“Perfect! Looked like a real couple dance!” he teased.

Roshaane cast a quick glance at Aarib.
He didn’t look at her.

The cold war remained.
Untouched.
Unbroken.

But for the first time…
They had danced — even if only as shadows beside each other.

-----

The song changed, laughter rose again, and people drifted back into conversations.
Aarib quietly stepped back, excusing himself from the noise and light.

Roshaane noticed him leave but said nothing.
Her heart dipped, but she forced a smile as Zainab approached her.

“You dance beautifully!” Zainab said warmly.

“Oh—no, no, I… I just followed others,” Roshaane replied shyly, her accent soft.

“You’re not Turkish, right?” she asked kindly.

Roshaane shook her head. “No. But I want to learn. Can… can you teach me Turkish?”

Zainab face brightened. “Of course! I’d love to teach you.”

For a moment, Roshaane’s heart felt light — finally, someone was speaking to her like she belonged here.

She didn’t know that across the lawn…

Aarib was watching her.

He stood alone near a quiet corner, half hidden behind a pillar, the dim lantern-light touching only part of his face. His hands were buried in the pockets of his coat, shoulders tense.

He didn’t realize his expression had softened.
He didn’t realize he was staring.

But Hikmat did.

He walked toward him slowly, folding his arms, watching him observe Roshaane.

“What are you doing here?” Hikmat asked, coming beside him.

Aarib straightened. “Just needed air.”

Hikmat raised an eyebrow. “Or needed distance?”

Aarib looked away.

Silence stretched for a few seconds before Hikmat spoke again — low, serious.

“Why are you making your life more difficult?”

Aarib’s eyes snapped to him, disbelief on his face.

“I’m making my life difficult? I’m stuck in something I don’t even know how to get out of.” His voice had that familiar exhaustion.

Hikmat’s expression changed — frustration simmered in his eyes.
He took a sharp step forward, right in front of Aarib.

“There is nothing you’re stuck in!” Hikmat said, anger rising.
“If it’s so hard for you… then divorce her. Free her. Free yourself. End this misery.”

Aarib blinked, stunned. “What are you saying, Hikmat?”

“I’m saying the truth!” Hikmat’s voice shook slightly.
“I see her… the way she looks at you, the way she tries. I see her hurting. And you—” he jabbed a finger at Aarib’s chest, “—you’re still living in that past where you were abandoned.”

Aarib stiffened at the blow of truth.

“This marriage is not torture, Aarib. You are turning it into one.”
Hikmat didn’t stop.

“I know moving on is not easy. I know you were forced. I know you were broken.
But she’s not the enemy. She’s not the one who left you.”

Aarib swallowed harshly, throat tight.

“She’s waiting,” Hikmat continued softly now.
“Just waiting for you to take one small step towards her.”

The music from inside floated through the cold air.
Aarib stayed silent.

Hikmat sighed, defeated.

“Look at her… not as the reason for your pain. Look at her as your friend.
Look at her as your wife.”

He stepped back slowly.

“If you don’t… both of you will keep drowning in this silence.”

With that, Hikmat walked away, leaving Aarib rooted in place.

Aarib’s gaze, almost against his will, drifted back to Roshaane.

She was smiling at Hikmat’s sister…
but her eyes — her eyes were dry, sad, carrying that familiar loneliness he tried not to see.

And for the first time…
something inside him shifted.

He stayed there, unmoving, Hikmat’s words echoing loudly in the quiet corners of his mind.

----
Roshaane was standing in a corner now, watching the couples dance again.
The music had picked up, laughter rising with every spin and every cheer.
But she stood still—her hands clasped together, her eyes fixed somewhere far beyond the glowing hall.

Her heart felt heavy… as if every beat reminded her she had trapped not only herself, but Aarib too, in a life neither had asked for.

Aarib walked back into the gathering after his conversation with Hikmat.
Something had shifted inside him.
It wasn’t clarity—but a restlessness.
A need to be alone, to understand the storm inside him… but he couldn’t leave just yet.

He spotted her—alone, silent, with a distant look in her eyes.

His steps moved on their own.

He came to stand beside her.
Close enough that she startled slightly, turning her head.
But he didn’t look at her.
Neither did he walk away.

“You should’ve brought a coat with you,” he said, finally glancing at her.
Her nose was red from the cold, her fingers rubbing her arms lightly.

“You’re feeling cold.”
His voice softened without him meaning to.

“I’m fine,” she replied shortly, her eyes dropping again.

Aarib looked away—exhaling a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Hikmat,” he called.

Hikmat came to them, eyebrows raised.

“We’ll be going now,” Aarib said. “It’s quite late.”

“I wanted you to stay… but as you wish.”
Hikmat’s gaze flickered between them—reading the fragile, tense space.

He pulled out his car keys. “Here—take my car tonight. I’ll pick it up from your house tomorrow.”

Aarib accepted them with a faint, polite smile.

They went to greet Hikmat’s family, exchanging warm words and goodbyes.
And then… they stepped into the cold night.

The ride home began in silence.
The kind that wasn’t angry—just exhausted.

“Here,” Aarib said suddenly.

He had started driving, but extended his hand with his coat.
The heavy, warm fabric hung between them.

Roshaane looked at him—then at the coat.
For a single heartbeat, something softened in her expression.

She didn’t speak.
She simply took it and wore it, her fingers brushing his briefly—too briefly.

Silence settled again.
Quiet.
Heavy.
Strangely different.

They reached home without exchanging a single word more.

Roshaane stepped out of the car first, her footsteps light on the gravel.
Aarib followed her, locking the car behind him.

The cold night wrapped around them as they walked toward the house—side by side, yet worlds apart.

But something in the air had undeniably changed.
-------

They entered their room in silence—both aware of the distance, both carrying thoughts too heavy for words.

Roshaane quietly walked to her cupboard, pulling out her nightwear. Aarib did the same. No glances, no questions… just the soft rustle of clothes and the weight of everything that had been left unsaid.

She changed first and slipped into her quilt, sitting against the headboard. With a blank expression, she turned on the TV. The sound of a kdrama filled the quiet room—soft, distant, unreal.

Aarib stepped out of the changing room and froze for a moment when he saw her watching silently. Something about the stillness of her face bothered him—something hollow, something defeated.

Without a word, he left the room.

In the kitchen, he mechanically prepared two cups of coffee. The warmth rising from the mugs felt strangely at odds with the coldness inside him.

When he returned, she hadn’t moved. Her eyes were fixed on the screen, but her mind was clearly far away.

He sat down on the bed and extended a cup toward her.

She startled, looking at his hand before taking the cup silently.
They watched the drama together—two people physically present but mentally miles apart.

After a long stretch of quiet, she spoke.

“I’ve thought something.”

He didn’t look at her. “What?” he asked, taking a slow sip, eyes on the TV.

“I think I should go.”

His head snapped toward her instantly.
“Where?”

“Maybe out of your life.” She swallowed, blinking back the burning in her eyes. “I’ve been thinking about this for days.”

“Is this a joke?” he asked, disbelief tightening his voice.

“No.” She let out a breathless laugh—one that broke halfway as a tear rolled down her cheek. “How can this be a joke?”

She kept her cup aside and turned fully toward him, determined but trembling.

“I’m thinking to free you from this torture. To free both of us… from what is hurting us like hell.”

His brows knitted, stunned.

“You’re not happy with me. And I…” Her voice cracked. “I’ve bound you to me—with the hope that maybe, one day, I’d win you. But now… I’m getting tired, Aarib. Tired of your silence. Your indifference. Your distance.”

Her tears began to spill faster, but she didn’t look away.

“The more I try to come close… the more you pull away. And in that process, I’m hurting you. I never wanted that. I never wanted to hurt you.”

She covered her face with her palms and broke down completely.

He just stared—shocked, unprepared, speechless.

“Roshaane,” he said after a moment.

She looked up instantly, forcing a shaky laugh as she wiped her cheeks.

“See? Even now… you don’t like calling me Roshi anymore. And I deserve that.”

“Roshaane—”

“You don’t need to punish yourself anymore,” she whispered. “I’ll set both of us free. I’m going back to Pakistan.”

Aarib stiffened. Then anger flashed across his face.

“Did you ask me before taking this decision?” His voice rose sharply.

She blinked in surprise. “Aarib, I—”

“No. Why would you ask?” he snapped, pushing his own cup onto the table and standing up. “Who am I, right? I’m nobody in my own life. Maliha decided to force me into marriage. Then she decided to abandon me. And you—” He pointed at her. “You decided to marry me. And now you decide to leave. All without my consent.”

He paced, anger boiling in him.

“I was forced. I was abandoned. I was cornered by two women—one who forced a marriage on me, the other who left without caring about my feelings. And now you—you want to do the same again? Just walk away?”

“Aarib, please—”

“What please?” he barked. “Am I a toy? A thing to push around? Do I ever get to decide anything in my life?”

His frustration filled the room like smoke.

“I know things between us aren’t easy. I know I haven’t accepted everything yet. But not once—NOT ONCE—did the thought of ‘freeing myself’ cross my mind. Not once did I think about breaking this marriage. So how can YOU think that?”

She stared at him in disbelief. She hadn’t imagined this reaction. Not from him.

He stopped pacing and looked at her—breathing hard, anger mixing with something else he couldn’t name.

“But I don’t want to live like this with you,” she whispered.

He turned fully toward her.

“Then how do you want to live with me?”

Her lips trembled.

“As your beloved wife.”
Her voice broke but she didn’t look away.
“As your friend. As your companion.
Not as a stranger.”

“I won’t say I don't need time,” Aarib replied quietly.

Roshaane looked up at him, stunned, almost afraid to hope.

“You know,” he continued, “we both do need time… to become the kind of husband and wife people dream about.” His gaze softened a little. “But for now… let’s start over. As friends. As companions.”

A tiny smile, fragile but real appeared on her face for the first time that night.

She stood up slowly, stepping toward him until she was right in front of him. Her eyes glistened under the soft bedroom light.

“Will you be okay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “With me around you? When you… hate me so much?”

Aarib shook his head immediately.

“I never hated you,” he confessed, and something warm flickered across her face.

“I just…” he took a breath, searching for the right words, “maybe wasn’t ready for this marriage. I never imagined it for myself. And the age difference between us—it still feels… heavy sometimes. Hard to accept. Hard to adjust.”

He looked straight into her eyes, not shying away for the first time in days.

“But I’ll try,” he said strongly. “I’ll try to make this marriage work.”

Her breath hitched.

“I’ll start from being your friend,” he added, a small, sincere smile curving his lips.

“And I’ll start as your wife,” she whispered, her heart in her eyes. “This is my journey… of becoming your beloved wife.”

Aarib’s smile deepened—soft, hesitant, but genuine.
Between thxem, something loosened.
Something shifted.
Something finally began.

Both stood there quietly, each carrying a quiet hope, each thinking about what tomorrow might bring.
.

A/N::
Assalam-u-Alaikum readers.

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