The room was dimly lit by the fading afternoon sun, casting long shadows on the bare walls. Yara sat on the bed, her fingers trembling as they clutched the edge of her pale pink wedding dress. The fabric felt foreign, wrong against her skin, as if it were suffocating her. Her chest tightened with each sob that broke from her lips, but she forced herself to stay as silent as possible. If Dawood heard her crying, she wasn’t sure what he might do.

The mirror in front of her reflected a stranger, all she saw was a girl trapped in a nightmare she couldn’t wake from. Her face was pale, her eyes swollen from crying. The kohl smudged across her eyelids only emphasized her tear-stained cheeks. The intricate henna designs that had been hurriedly applied to her hands in the last few hours now felt like chains, tightening around her wrists, binding her to this nightmare.

Safiya ma gently combed through Yara’s hair, her own heart heavy with guilt. “I know, child. This isn’t easy, but you have to be strong. You’ll get through this.”

Safiya Ma hovered behind her, adjusting the dupatta on Yara’s head. Her hands were gentle, but her eyes betrayed the weight of helplessness she felt. Yara caught her reflection in the mirror and averted her gaze. How could this woman, who seemed so kind, be complicit in this? She wanted to scream, to beg for her freedom, but what good would it do?

No one would help her. Not even Safiya Ma.

“I’m so sorry, dear,” Safiya Ma whispered softly, placing a hand on Yara’s shoulder. “But there’s no way out of this... you have to be strong.”

Yara squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to let more tears fall. How could she be strong when everything inside her was breaking? When every breath felt like a struggle against drowning?

Tears streamed down Yara's face as she stared blankly ahead. “I don’t want to marry him, Safiya Ma,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Please… I just want to go home.”

Safiya’s hand tightened on Yara's trembling shoulder. “I know, my dear. But Dawood… he’s not someone you can defy. This marriage, it’s already decided. But I promise you, I will find a way to help you… one day.”

Safiya wanted to tell her it was impossible to leave this place, but the truth was more painful than lies. Dawood was dangerous. His world was dangerous. But there were some things even Dawood couldn’t control.

Yara felt a deep, gnawing pit of despair open inside her. How had her life come to this? Trapped in a web she didn’t weave, forced into a marriage she never wanted. Every step closer to this wedding felt like she was losing another part of herself, like pieces of her soul were being stolen away.

She recalled the day she last saw her family, the warmth of her home, the love in her mother’s eyes. Would she ever see them again? Or was this the end of her life as she knew it?

Were they safe? Were they being threatened just as she was?

Dawood’s words from earlier haunted her—your family’s life is at risk.

Your so called papa's deal, He sold you for money!, these words hit her harder.

She hated him, hated him with a fire that burned through her veins. But what could she do? If she didn’t comply, the consequences would fall not just on her but on everyone she loved.

She glanced down at the delicate gold bangles that now adorned her wrists. They gleamed in the fading light, mocking her helplessness. This wasn’t the wedding she had ever dreamed of.

.
.
.

Dawood Haider Khan stood in front of the large window in his study, staring out into the vast grounds of his estate, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of an ornate knife. His jaw clenched as the evening wind rustled through the trees outside. Inside, a storm brewed within him, swirling with anger, doubt, and something else he couldn’t quite name.

‘Is this the right thing to do?’ he thought, the weight of his decision hanging heavily in the air.

He’d told himself this was necessary. That marrying Yara was the best way to exact the revenge he’d long sought after. Her father had wronged him, after all—he’d broken promises, cost Dawood a significant amount of money, and insulted his honor. For months, he had planned this. Her father’s life wasn’t enough. No, this would be more painful. Taking Yara from him would be the final blow.

Yet, there was a part of him that hesitated. He looked at the knife in his hand, the same knife that had cut down his enemies without hesitation. But this… this felt different.

As the minutes ticked closer to the nikkah, Dawood found himself questioning his own motives. Was this truly the right path?

Dawood let out a frustrated growl, moving abruptly and throwing the knife into the wall. It embedded itself deeply into the wood, but the action did little to ease the storm brewing inside him.

He couldn’t show weakness. Not in front of his men. Not in front of Yara. But deep down, a voice whispered to him—‘What if this is a mistake? What if this marriage destroys more than just her life?’

He closed his eyes, trying to push away the guilt gnawing at him. A mafia leader wasn’t supposed to have second thoughts. He was supposed to be ruthless, decisive. Weakness was not an option in his world. Yet, every time he saw Yara’s tear-streaked face, a part of him recoiled. She didn’t deserve this, did she? But then, it wasn’t about what she deserved—it was about power, control, and settling debts.

But he couldn’t shake the memory of her eyes when she had begged to go home. There had been a spark of desperation, and something else—something that made him feel more human than he liked. What was he doing to her?

Dawood took a deep breath and walked over to his desk. There was no turning back now. Everything was in motion. But why, then, did it feel like he was making a mistake?

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. One of his men entered, his expression unreadable. "Boss, everything’s ready for the nikkah."

Dawood nodded stiffly, running a hand through his hair. "Good. I’ll be there soon."

The man hesitated for a moment, as if sensing Dawood’s inner turmoil, but wisely said nothing before leaving. Dawood stared at the door long after it closed, his mind racing. Yara had become more than a pawn in his revenge scheme. She was beginning to unsettle him in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

‘Damn it,’ he thought, slamming his fist against the desk. He had to go through with it. He had no other choice. This was the way things worked in his world. But something told him he was about to cross a line that couldn’t be undone.

.
.
.

Unknown POV

In the shadows of a narrow alley not far from the estate, a figure watched, anger simmering just beneath the surface. His fingers twitched with impatience, his jaw clenched in frustration. How dare Dawood think he could take Yara? She didn’t belong to him. She was never meant to be his bride.

"She’s mine…” he hissed under his breath, his eyes burning with a wild intensity.

He had watched for days, every step of this twisted marriage plan falling into place, and it sickened him. Yara was supposed to be his. For years, he had waited, biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to claim what was rightfully his. Dawood was nothing but an obstacle now. A dangerous one, yes, but not impossible to overcome.

He slammed his fist against the wall, his chest heaving with barely contained fury. “I won’t let it happen. I won’t let him take her.”

Tonight, everything would change. He had planned meticulously, every detail accounted for. He had people inside the estate, people who would help him when the time was right. Dawood’s marriage to Yara would not happen. He would make sure of it.

His heart pounded in his chest as he thought of Yara. She didn’t know yet, but soon, she would be free. He would be her savior, the one who would take her away from all this madness. And then she would be his, just as he had always intended.

The figure’s lips curled into a smile. Dawood Haider Khan would pay for daring to come between them. Tonight, everything would fall into place.

.
.
.

Safiya Ma had finished dressing Yara, but Yara’s heart was heavy with dread. She looked into the mirror once more, but the reflection felt like it was mocking her. The intricate jewelry weighed her down, both physically and emotionally. Each bangle, each necklace, felt like another shackle tying her to this unwanted fate.

Her mind raced, searching for a way out, a miracle that would save her from this nightmare.

“Is there no one who can help me?” Yara whispered, her voice cracking with emotion.

Safiya’s eyes softened. "I’m sorry, child. But there’s no way out now. The nikkah will take place soon. Be strong, Yara. You must survive this."

Survive. That was all she could do now—survive.

A sudden noise from the hallway snapped her out of her thoughts. The door creaked open, and Dawood’s imposing figure filled the room. He looked at her, his face unreadable, but Yara saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes.

“You’re ready,” Dawood said, his voice low and controlled. He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "In an hour, you’ll be mine."

Yara’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to scream, to shout that she would never be his. But the words stuck in her throat, fear choking her voice.

Dawood turned, his hand on the door. "I’ll see you at the nikkah, Yara. Try not to run. It won’t end well for you."

As the door closed behind him, Yara’s knees buckled, and she collapsed to the floor. Her hands trembled, her tears flowing freely once more. Safiya knelt beside her, wrapping her arms around her trembling form.

.
.

The door creaked open again, and two women entered the room, silently helping Safiya adjust Yara’s veil. No one said a word. The silence was oppressive, as if even the walls themselves were too afraid to acknowledge the atrocity about to take place.

Yara’s thoughts spiraled. Is this how my life ends? Trapped in a marriage I never wanted? To a man I fear and hate?

Tears pricked at her eyes again, but she swallowed them down. She had to stay strong, though every part of her wanted to scream and run. But there was no escape. Not yet, anyway.

“Come, child,” Safiya whispered gently, her voice thick with sorrow. “It’s time.”

Yara’s legs felt like lead as she stood up. Every step toward the door felt like a march toward her own doom. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat a painful reminder of how close she was to losing everything she had ever known.

As they led her down the hallway toward the room where the nikkah would take place, Yara felt her vision blur with fresh tears. Why is this happening to me? she kept asking herself. But no answers came.

They stopped in front of the door. Safiya gave Yara one last sad smile before opening it.

But as the door swung open, a loud crash echoed from the hallway behind them. Yara’s heart leapt in her chest. Footsteps—fast, heavy—were approaching. And then, a voice, sharp and filled with anger.

“No!” the voice boomed. “This wedding won’t happen!”

Yara turned, her eyes wide with shock as the figure of a man burst into view, fury etched across his face.

The room filled with gasps, and Yara’s heart raced. Who is he? And why did he look at her with such possessive rage?

The chaos that followed was a blur, but one thing was clear—her fate, once sealed, was now uncertain.

............................................................................

Hiii / Assalamu Alaikum
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-Nuska Nisthar 🌼