9

Author's pov

Rubab sat on the antique velvet armchair with a stillness that made the whole room feel like it was under judgment.

Noor's aunt-Phupho-adjusted her dupatta unnecessarily, her eyes flicking toward the envelope Rubab had brought, like a starving vulture pretending to be noble.

"So," Phupho started, fake politeness dripping from her voice, "You're the rich woman my niece has been working with."

Rubab gave a cold smile. "No. I'm the rich woman who's offering you a very generous shortcut to a better life."

Phupho stiffened slightly. "I don't know what she told you-"

"She told us nothing," Rubab interrupted, gaze sharp. "We know what we needed to know. Which is that you're her only blood relative, and anything official requires your consent."

Phupho's eyes narrowed. "Consent for what, exactly?"

Rubab didn't blink. "A nikah. With Dawood."

There was a beat of stunned silence. Then a sudden laugh-ugly and sharp.

"You want that mad boy to marry my niece?" Phupho scoffed. "Does he even know how to be a husband?"

Rubab's face remained calm. "It won't be a traditional marriage. It's a contract marriage. Temporary. Legal. Clean. No physical expectations."

Phupho leaned forward. "Then what's the point? If he can't even-"

"It's protection," Rubab cut in. "For him. And for her. She stays in the house. Under our care. No sin. No scandal."

Phupho sat back, tapping her fingers thoughtfully on the table.

"And what does my niece get out of this?"

Rubab let a pause stretch.

"She gets to stay with her brother .She gets shelter. Dignity. And..." She reached into her bag and pulled out the envelope. Placed it on the table like a silent weapon. "She gets peace. You get this."

Phupho's eyes flicked to it immediately, but she made a show of not touching it.

"Hmm. What about after? When the contract ends?"

"She can decide," Rubab said. "Stay on. Or leave. There will be no disgrace attached to her name."

"Any conditions?"

"She can't misuse his trust. She can't run. And she can't bring shame to our home."

Phupho smiled, finally showing her teeth.

"Done," she said, snatching the envelope and tucking it into her dupatta. "May Allah bless this arrangement."

Rubab stood, smoothing her kurta.

"He already has," she said, before walking out, heels echoing against the marble-leaving behind a woman who'd just sold what little conscience she had left.

....

-Noor sits beside Saleh on the floor of her dimly lit room.

Her fingers tremble as she pours water into the steel glass for him. She hasn't told him everything-just enough. Just enough to make him feel the edge of what's coming.

But Saleh knows.

And his silence is louder than the ceiling fan above them.

He takes the glass but doesn't drink.

Instead, he stares straight ahead, his jaw clenched.

"Noor," he says quietly, "You won't do this."

She doesn't look at him. "Saleh..."

"I said no," he snaps, his voice louder than she's ever heard it. "You're not marrying some mental patient just so I can wear a white coat one day."

Her heart lurches.

She looks at him sharply. "Don't call him that. Ever."

He flinches, but his eyes are still burning.

"You think I can drink from a future that's soaked in your blood? Your silence? Your sacrifice?" he chokes. "After everything we've been through... you're doing this , Selling yourself for my future."

"I'm not selling myself," she says, too quickly. "It's not like that."

He laughs bitterly. "Then what is it? You think I don't know what a contract marriage is? You think I don't know what kind of man he is if they're afraid of haram things happening?"

She turns her face away. Her cheeks are wet.

Saleh grabs her hand. "Noor, I won't go. I won't attend that college. I'll stay here. I'll work. I'll sweep floors if I have to. But I'm not going to let you chain yourself to someone who doesn't even understand what you're worth."

Noor's voice cracks.

"He's kind to me, Saleh. He looks at me like I'm... not just a pretty face and body, like i matters"

"But he doesn't know, Noor!" Saleh shouts, standing now, desperate. "He doesn't know what you've survived! What you carry! He doesn't even understand what marriage is!"

Silence falls.

Noor finally speaks.

"I know."

Saleh sinks back down beside her, defeated.

His chest heaving.

"I can't lose you too," he whispers. "I already watched you vanish once, Noor. I can't do it again-not for me."

She takes his face in her hands, cradling him the way their mother never did.

"You won't lose me," she says. "You'll see me... just in a different home. A safer one. Where no one screams. Where no one touches me without permission. Where you'll have a future I never had."

He buries his face in her lap, sobbing.

And for the first time, Noor lets herself cry too.

Because even when love is pure...

It still breaks.

___

Dawood sat on the rug with his sketchbook, tongue slightly out as he carefully colored a sun with an orange crayon.

Dilan watched him from the doorway for a while before slowly stepping in and sitting beside him.

He glanced up briefly and then returned to his work.

"Dawood," she said gently, brushing a finger through his hair, "Can I talk to you about something important?"

He paused, eyes flicking to hers with a slight frown.

She smiled. "It's not scary. Promise. Just... something nice. Something new."

He nodded once, cautious.

Dilan took a deep breath, then spoke in the softest tone she could find.

"You know how Danish chachu and Tani had a nikah? "

He blinked. Then nodded again slowly.

She continued, "They did that because they loved each other. But also so they could live together in the right way... in the halal way."

Dawood frowned slightly.

Dilan touched his shoulder. "You like Noor, don't you?"

Dawood looked down at his sketch. It was of a girl with long hair and soft purple eyes.

He whispered, "Tani maa."

Dilan's chest tightened.

"She's like Tani, isn't she?" Dilan said softly. "Kind. Gentle. She listens to you. She never shouts."

Dawood nodded quickly. "Noor good. Noor gives me bread when I'm hungry. Noor take care of my crayons"

"She takes care of you," Dilan said, voice warm. "And you make her smile, Dawood. She feels safe with you."

He looked at her now, confusion creeping in.

"Then... why talk?"

Dilan reached for his hand.

"Because we want to make sure you and Noor can always stay close. And safe. And pure. Like chachu and Tani. Like Taha and Rubab."

He looks confuse.

She nodded. "Yes. Just like them. A little nikah. Only if you want it. Only if it makes you feel happy."

He went quiet for a long moment.

Then he looked at his drawing, pointed at the girl, and said softly,

"Okay."

"Okay?" Dilan asked carefully.

He nodded. "But no big noises. No new people."

"No noise. No new people," Dilan promised, smiling through the tears pricking her eyes. "Just you. Noor. And peace."

Dawood reached for a green crayon, then stopped.

He whispered, "Will she stay with me after?"

Dilan kissed his forehead. "As long as she wants to. And I think... she wants to."

He smiled again-soft, innocent, full of trust.

And just like that, the decision was made.

Not by force.

But by love.

---

---

The air smelled of rain, though the sky hadn't broken yet. Bakhtiyar stood near the marble railing, fingers gripping it tighter than he meant to, watching birds disappear into the dusk. His jaw clenched, heart heavy.

Taha emerged behind him, placing two cups of kehwa on the carved table.

"Khamoshi se zyada dard hota hai un baaton ka jo kabhi keh hi nahi jaati," he said softly, as if he knew his son had something boiling inside.

Bakhtiyar looked at his father, then away. "Baba... can I ask you something? Without you judging me?"

Taha sat down with a nod. "Tumhare baap hone ka matlab hi yeh hai."

Bakhtiyar exhaled, long and uncertain.

"Main us ladki ko bhool nahi pa raha. . I don't even know if it's love, or obsession, or just... something I needed when I was drowning. Lekin jab bhi main usay dekhta hoon... I feel like she deserves something beautiful. Something clean. And I don't even know if I'm capable of that."

Taha looked at his son-his otherwise playful, careless boy-now unusually still, wounded in ways he hadn't expected.

"You know, beta... sometimes people walk into our lives to heal us. Or to remind us we're still human. Maybe that's what she did for you."

Bakhtiyar gave a faint smile, almost broken.

"Par main sirf usay dekh kar theek nahi hota, baba Main usay kisi aur ke saath soch bhi nahi sakta."

Taha narrowed his eyes slightly but said nothing. He reached for his kehwa, concealing the flicker of unease.

He knows how harmful one-sided love can be,

Bakhtiyar didn't know-what Taha had overheard just yesterday morning-was that Rubab had already spoken to Dilan. That she had pulled Dawood's caretaker into the drawing room like a pawn and pressed her into agreeing for Dawood's sake. That a nikah was being arranged quietly, behind closed doors, under the noble excuse of izzat and care and dignity.

Only if bakht could tell that purple eyes beauty is Dawood's caretaker, so his father could do something but taha still thinks his son fell in love with some purple eyes beauty who don't spare him a glance, unknown to devastating reality.

And Bakhtiyar? He was still dreaming.

Still holding onto the girl who was being promised away to his beloved dawood bhai-without his knowledge, by his very own mother.

---

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