The palace was awake before the sun.
Not from tension.
But from celebration.
Inside, it was a storm of smells, sounds, and voices.
The kitchen was alive — aunties shouting across countertops, spices flying into hot pans, steam rising from copper pots. Kids were everywhere, feet slapping against marble, stealing sweets, vanishing around corners.
Outside, it was a completely different world.
Massive LED screens were being lifted into place.
Drones were being tested for aerial sequences.
Engineers, stage designers, and security personnel coordinated over earpieces while setting up the stage of the century — an open-air platform wrapped in polished black glass and lined with invisible lighting tech.
From above, it would form three perfect letters:
M R D.
Digital floral projections danced across the walls of the palace, synced to music no one had heard yet.
Helicopters made rounds overhead, securing the perimeter.
Stylists moved in and out of designer trucks.
Every camera, every chair, every cable was placed like a world leader was arriving.
Because they were.
Presidents. Kings. Billionaires. Friends. Ghosts of the past and legends of the present — all had confirmed.
But inside the palace…
In a dark room on the second floor…
The groom was still asleep.
Mirshad lay twisted in silk blankets, one arm across his face, one leg out from under the cover.
The sun hit his cheek through the edge of the curtain.
The sound of drilling, music, shouting, and laughter filled the entire estate.
He heard none of it.
He was asleep like he had no idea the planet was setting up for his wedding.
And maybe… he didn't.
In another house nearby, Sophia was already up — her hair braided with jasmine, her soft yellow robe glowing in the morning light.
She sat on the floor with the women, peeling vegetables, sipping tea, laughing with Sara beside her.
Someone asked, "Is he nervous today?"
Sophia smiled.
"No. If I know him… he probably forgot the wedding is even this week."
Back at the palace, Rayyan burst into Mirshad's room.
He yanked the curtains open. Sunlight slammed across the floor.
"Get up, groom of the century!"
Mirshad groaned and covered his face.
Rayyan laughed.
"You're getting married in two days, not two years. The world is out there building a tech stage bigger than any battlefield you've ever walked on—and you're still in bed?"
Mirshad sat up slowly. His eyes were barely open.
"What time is it?"
Rayyan grinned. "Time to join the madness."
Mirshad muttered, "Let me sleep in peace… just one last time."
"No chance." Rayyan tossed a towel at his face. "Move."
Half an hour later, the double doors to the hallway opened.
Mirshad stepped out in simple clothes, hair messy, blinking at the brightness.
And instantly—
the house erupted.
Aunties shouted blessings. Cousins swarmed him.
Someone stuffed a fruit into his mouth.
Someone else wiped his face with a perfumed towel.
One of the younger kids yelled, "He's awake! He's alive!"
Even the palace staff clapped, laughing with joy.
Rayyan passed by, whispering,
"You're not marrying in a banana-leaf hall, brother… You're getting married under a sky stage that costs more than a country."
Mirshad looked around, dazed.
"Did I miss something?"
Jabir slapped his back.
"Just the world preparing for your wedding."
And for a moment, in the middle of all the noise and motion…
He wasn't the man who changed the world.
He wasn't the legend who touched the sacred door.
He wasn't MRD.
He was just Mirshad.
A sleepy, smiling groom…
…finally awake.