Happy Diwali, Lovelies.

Just because it is Diwali, I thought of dropping a chapter. May this Diwali bring you utmost light and show you the path that will lead you to greatness. ❤️❤️❤️

Year 1657

Sultane-e-Miran

Rehana POV

"Saat saal ho gaye hai, Rehana, Kaun hai tumhare shauhar, or ab aaenge tumhe lene?"

"It's been seven years, Rehana; who is your husband, and when will he take you with him?" Shefali asked, and I sighed deeply, lifting my gaze from the embroidery patch I made.

"Pata nahi, Shefali, hum bhi intzaar kar ke thak chuke hai, khuda jaane unhe hamara khyal bhi hai ya nahi,"

"I do not know, Shefali. I am also tired of waiting. God knows if he even remembers me," I replied softly.

"Magar unke baare me kuch to jaanti hongi, aap. Humne to esa kahi nahi suna ki ek naujavaan aaye, aapse nikaah padhle or aapko ek choti si sultanate me chhod jaye, jaha koi unke baare me baat bhi nahi karta,"

"But you must know something about him. I have not heard that a young man comes, marries you, and leaves you in a small sultanate where no one even talks about him," she said, folding the clothes. I left the overcoat and stood up to look at her.

"Nahi suna to dekh to rahi ho na. Ab esa hi hua hai to kya kare. Or tumhe hamare yaha hone se koi dikkat hai kya?"

"You have not heard but are seeing it, are you not? It is real. What can I do? And do you have any problem with me being here?" I asked, teasing her a little, and she smiled.

"Khuda kher kare, itni pyaar hai aap, hume aapse bhala kya dikkat hogi, lekin han bass hume ye baat hazam nahi hoti ki aap shadi shuda or apne shauhar ka naam takk nahi jaanti,"

"May God be kind. You are so loving; how could I possibly have a problem with you? But yes, I cannot digest that you are married and do not even know your husband's name," she said, sitting beside me and passing me the plate of fruits. I pushed my hair back and smiled.

"Bas naam hi nahi jaante hum, baaki unki tasveer se achi tarah wakif hai. Or naam me kya rakha hai, hamare liye to vo hamare Jaan-e-jahan hai,"

"I do not know his name, but I remember every detail of his face. And, what it's in the name, he is my Jaan-e-Jahan (Soul of the world)," I replied, placing my elbow on my crossed legs' knee and smiling at her.

"Ohoo, to kese dikhte hai aapke Jaan-e-jahan, or kahi vo sach me kisi Jahan ki jaan hue to?"

"Oh! So, how does your Jaan-e-Jahan look, and what if he is a soul of a world (Sultan)?" she asked, and my smile weakened along with the inside tips of my brows nearing, furrowing with disbelief.

"Esa kese ho sakta hai? Vo to behad hi Khoobsurat, shant or saade libas me the. Ek mamuli sa kaale rang ka Kurta, or unko dekhkar koi keh hi nahi sakta ki vo Sultan ho sakte hai. Vo to sirf hamare jahan ki jaan banne aaye the,"

"How can that be? He was beautiful, serene, and dressed simply—just a plain black kurta. Looking at him, no one could say he could be a Sultan. He had only come to become the love of my life," I replied, remembering the seven-year-old memory still as fresh as if it had been yesterday.

"Or sach batae to, Sultano or Sultanato se nafrat hoti hai hume. Inme rehne wale sirf insaan par fateh karna jaante hai, hume Kothe tak pohuchane wali wajah bhi ek Sultanate hi thi. Hamari jindagi bekar to thi hi, lekin ek Sultan ne usko bad se badtar kar diya tha. Or agar vo hamari jindagi me na aate to na jaane, kitne kadam hume apni hawas ke tale raund chuke hote. Dil de bethe hum unhe, unhone hamara haath tak nahi pakda, or jese hi poocha ki kya hum unse nikaah karenge, to hum pehle to unhe dekhte hi reh gaye, or fir na jaane, kab hamare muhh se khud hi han nikal gaya,"

"To tell you the truth, I despise sultanates and sultans. Those who lived there only knew how to conquer people, and a sultanate was why I ended up in the brothel. My life was already miserable, but a Sultan made it even worse. And if he had not entered my life, who knows how many would have trampled me under their lust. I lost my heart to him; he didn't even hold my hand, and as soon as he asked if I would marry him, I just kept looking at him, and then somehow, I found myself saying yes without even realizing it," I told her, yet, again.

I do not know how many times I remember that incident every day. I was still not over how he walked into that small room where I was waiting for my first customer.

It was a pleasure house on a discreet street in the Hamid Sultanate. It was highly secretive, and powerful men used to come there. My stepmother sold me to that house for a hundred golden coins. After losing the war to the Darmiyan Sultanate, my stepmother could not find a way to feed me, so she decided to leave me on my own.

At the age of fifteen, the chief lady of that pleasure house asked me to have my first customer. And the lucky day I had because I was sobbing with silent tears, and he walked in.

Standing far from me, he asked how old I was. "Fifteen," I replied, thinking if it would help him.

"Are you here with your consent?" he asked without waiting a moment, and I immediately looked up at his face.

Consent?

There?

The first thing I noticed was his subtle green eyes, which shone intensely amid the dim lighting of a single burning candle in a small, warm, toxic room.

"No," I simply replied, forgetting to sob momentarily.

He gulped and looked away for a moment. I pulled my knees closer to my chest and clutched my fingers on my dress when he stepped closer.

"Where is your home?" he asked, a tint of concern dripping off his tongue.

"I do not have any home," I chose not to tell much about my past, unable to decide if he was safe or not.

"But there must be a place to go back?" he asked further, and I lowered my wet eyes, shaking my head slowly.

"My stepmother sold me here," I replied slowly and scaredly. But my father was a Prince to a Sultanate." I wondered if he would help me get out of there and find my father.

He sat down in front of me all of a sudden.

"Sultanate? Which one?" he asked, and I gulped frightenedly, looking up.

"Hamid Sultanate," I said shakily, and he kept staring at me for a while.

And, I drowned in the depths of his eyes, unknowingly.

"Hum aapse Nikaah karna chahte hai,"

"I want to marry you," he said softly all of a sudden.

I sat frozen and unmoved.

"Hn?" I could not process it for a few moments until he repeated.

"Will you?"

I could not say anything.

"Yes," I breathed, losing myself to his eyes.

"Come with me," he said, and I stood up from the floor and walked after him.

We both walked through the streets. I followed him silently through the puzzles until I noticed a mosque.

He did not utter a single word, nor did I choose to speak anything.

That was the best thing to do at that moment.

I followed him inside the mosque and waited until he found the Kazi. Within a few moments, we accepted each other as husband and wife.

"Qubool hai," 

I accepted him first, not once, not in haste, not by mistake, but with all my consciousness.

I did not know why, but I felt as if he went to the pleasure house just for me. He did not seem to be a lusty or nasty man.

He seemed a well-mannered gentleman.

"Qubool hai,"

He accepted me, too. There were a few more men along with him, maybe his friends.

Finally, my lips spread in a tiny smile, and I wondered when he would take me to his home.

But instead of taking me to his home, he brought me to Miran Sultanate late at night. He told me that the eldest Begum of the Sultan was his relative. But she died two months later before I could ask her about him.

He brought me here late at night, and nobody saw him except her.

It was like he kept me as a secret.

But he left me with a promise.

"I will come back."

And it's been seven years since I've been waiting for him. Every day, I would open my eyes with hope. But, every day before sleeping, I would remind myself that he promised me, and he did not seem to be a promise-breaker.

Because this Sultanate had given me everything: education, hobbies, people, and everything I could ask for.

They treated me better than my family ever did.

But, still, nothing could erase the emptiness that was inside my heart without him.

I knew everything had happened so fast, and every time I told someone about all this, they would laugh at me, saying that he fooled me.

But, my heart knew he did not fool me. He had all the opportunity to use me as he wished, but he did not even touch me, paid to the chief of the pleasure house, and married me.

He wanted to protect me, and I knew it.

"Rehana," Shefali's voice caught my attention, and I smiled, lifting my gaze back to her.

"Vo jo bhi ho, hume yakeen hai ki vo behad ache insaan hai. Or ek ladki ko apne shauhar me or chahiye bhi kya,"

"Whoever he is, I am sure he is nice. And, what else does a girl even want in her husband?" she asked, and I nodded.

"But, the way you talk about him, I do die to see him," she chuckled before getting up and back to work.

"By the way, did you hear that Sultan Rehman from Hamid Sultanate is coming here tomorrow? I heard it from some maids," she said, and I sighed deeply.

"So many people come here. Why should I care?" I asked, having a bite of freshly sliced apples.

No one knew that I was the illegitimate daughter of Hamid Sultanate's runaway Prince. But I hated Hamid Sultanate's Sultan, Darmiyan Sultanate, and everyone who caused my family's demise.

I did not care about any of this. It was not like my own family was very good to me. After all, I had foreign blood running in my veins. No matter what language I spoke or how sweet I was, I could never be what his daughters were.

That was why my stepmother threw me to that brothel.

"It's late now. You should better sleep," she said, and I nodded, walking towards the bed and lying down.

"But, do tell me whatever you dream about him," she added, and I chuckled, closing my eyes.

His face was the first thing that came before me. The beautiful green eyes and hair fell over his forehead.

I missed him.

I did not know when he would come back.

But, whenever he would, I scolded him to leave me for this long. However, he was with me even though he was not actually present. He took care of my studies and my needs and kept sending me some coins and clothes every three to four months.

Considering that, I often doubted he would genuinely be a Sultan of Amir of a Sultanate.

No, he would not be.

He did not have a single ounce of arrogance in him.

I sighed deeply.

And, whoever he was, he was only my Jaan-e-Jahan.

His dreams pulled me into sleep and tickled me until I heard Shefali's voice.

"Rehana, get up; Choti Begum is asking for you," she said, and I stretched my arms while fluttering my sleepy gaze.

"Kuch der or hume unki baahon me rehne deti to kya chala jata aapka?"

"What would you have lost if you had let me stay in his arms a little longer?" I asked, sitting up and yawning.

"Qayamat aa jaati, kyuki Rehman Sultan Mehal me apni tashreef laa chuke hai or naa jaane kyu Choti Begum chahti hai aap unse mile,"

"Disaster would have struck because Sultan Rehman has graced the palace with his presence, and for some reason, the Choti Begum wants you to meet him," she informed me, my brows knit with confusion.

"What?" I asked, pushing the comforters away and stepping down the bed.

"Yes," she confirmed, and I noticed a yellow pair of clothes on the table.

"She even sent clothes for you," she added, and I shook my head.

"Hum kisi Gher mard se katayi nahi milenge. Or Rehman Sultan se to bilkul nahi. Maana ki hum Hamid Sultanate me paida nahi hue, lekin iska matlab ye nahi vo hamare dost hai,"

"I will absolutely not meet any strange man, especially not Sultan Rehman. Granted, I was not born in the Hamid Sultanate, but that does not mean he's my friend," I stated, gathering my hair to tie it in a bun before walking into the bathing room.

"But it's not a request, Rehana," she clarified, and I immediately turned to look at her.

"I do not understand why he wants to meet me. How does he know who am I or where am I? And, what does this mean?" I blabbered, unable to understand what was happening.

It had not happened before.

"Rehana, kahi tumhare shauhar Rehman Sultan hi to nahi?"

"Rehana, what if, by any chance, Rehman Sultan is your husband?" she said, and I immediately stepped closer.

"Kya bakwaas kar rahi ho, Shefali. Khuda ke liye esi baat apni jaban se bhi na nikalo. Jannat ki aaas me apna har pal kaat rahe hai hum, or tum hume jahnnum bhejna chahti ho,"

"What nonsense are you talking, Shefali? For God's sake, do not even utter such things. I am spending every moment hoping for paradise, and you want to send me to hell," I said, and she lowered her gaze.

"I'm sorry, Rehana, but could possibly be the reason?" she said, and I sighed, looking away.

No, this could not be true.

The person who snatched our Sultanate from us married me?

No!

"Amira," suddenly, a maid's voice caught my attention, and I looked at her, bending and wishing me respectfully, "Sultan Rehman wishes to meet you,"

And the moment she uttered those words, my heart raced, and I looked at Shefali in disbelief.

"Where is he?" She asked, and the maid replied.

"In Amira's meeting area,"

My palms sweat, and I could not help but think, what if whatever Shefali said was true?

What if he was my husband?

No!

No, no, no.

That could not be possible.

 "Okay, you can leave," Shefali said to the maid, and I palmed my mouth with disbelief.

"Mulakaat to karni padegi, Rehana. Magar hum dua karenge ki chahe jo bhi ho vo aapke Shauhar na ho,"

"You will have to meet him, Rehana. But I pray that whoever he is, he is not your husband," she said, and I closed my eyes for a moment.

My fingers trembled as I strolled towards the bathroom.

The subtle green eyes, almond complexion, hair falling on the forehead, black attire, and a knife in his hand. A man who stayed only for a night in my life and became the reason for my sleepless nights, endless dreams, and hopeless future.

But it could not be him.

Sultan Rehman must be here for something else. Someone must have leaked information about me, and maybe he wanted to kill me, too.

Strangely, my heart was denying all the assumptions.

Stepping into the small bathing tub of wood, I closed my eyes momentarily.

Shefali walked in to help me finish my bath, and I changed into a yellow pair of clothes. It was a plain Sharara with a red dupatta.

And, when Shefali brought her hands closer to me to adore me with the jewelry, I shook my head.

"Let me meet him first," I stated, placing the dupatta over my head.

She nodded, and I silently walked towards the Meeting area.

As I stepped inside, my sight fell on the couch, the translucent curtain in between and a silhouette of a man standing on the other side of the curtain.

I turned to my side as he turned around, noticing my presence.

My heartbeats were racing wild, unable to think anything.

All I wanted to hear was that he was not what I was thinking and that I would die happily. Because I loved my husband dearly, I could die for him, but only if his hands were not stained with my family's blood.

"Assalamwalaikum,"

And the moment I heard his voice, the rug swept through my feet.

I could recognize his voice in the millions.

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