ORHAN
I didn't want to be here.
This wedding—this drama—none of it was my concern. I'd flown in from Turkey because of Anneh. Only because of her. She'd pulled every emotional string she had to get me here. Typical mom tactics. Guilt, nostalgia, and that soft voice she knew I couldn't ignore.
I knew something was off the moment we stepped inside the venue. The air was thick with tension, like everyone was pretending everything was normal when it wasn't. My parents disappeared into the bridal room with Noor's family. I didn't follow them. I stayed near the corridor, leaning against a wall, hands in my pockets, trying to drown out the buzz of guests and wedding music.
I didn't need anyone to spell it out. Atif was missing. That gut feeling I'd had about him was right—he ditched Noor. He left her. On her wedding day.
And you know what? I didn't care.
At least, that's what I told myself.
But then I saw her.
The door of the bridal room opened, and Noor stepped out.
She looked... unreal. The kind of beautiful that forces silence. Her dress shimmered in the light, her eyes red from crying but still full of fire. Her presence pulled something inside me I didn't expect.
I should've walked away.
Instead, words slipped out before I could stop them. "Your angel isn't here, huh?"
God. Why did I say that?
She turned to look at me—really look—and those teary eyes could've burned me alive. I braced myself for a slap. Honestly, I would've deserved it.
Before she could say anything, Anneh came out and dragged me aside. Saved by the mother.
"We need to talk," she said.
"Right now? Seriously?" I replied, already irritated.
"You heard, didn't you? Atif's gone."
"Yeah, I heard. So? Wedding's off. We go back to Turkey. End of story."
"No," she said firmly. "We need a groom."
I blinked. "What?"
"We need you."
I laughed, actually laughed. "You've lost your mind."
Her voice lowered into something pleading and deadly all at once. "Their honour is at stake. People are already whispering. I told Shella we could still save everything. That you could take his place. No one saw the groom yet—it's possible."
My jaw clenched. "You really think I'm a better option? Your own son? Sacrificed for your best friend's daughter—who, by the way, hates my guts?"
"She doesn't hate you. She's just... proud. And heartbroken. I love her like my own daughter. Please, Orhan. Do this for them. For me."
"I said no."
Then she pulled the ultimate card.
"Fine. Say goodbye to your allowance, credit cards, your car. Everything your father and I gave you. You'll live like a regular boy. Nine to five. Minimum wage. Let's see if your arrogance pays your bills."
I stared at her in disbelief. "You'd do that to your own son?"
"For the right thing? Yes," she said, unflinching.
I could've screamed. "I hate you," I said instead, defeated.
But I wasn't done fighting. I stormed off to find Baba.
"Baba, please. Anneh's lost her mind. She wants me to marry Noor."
He looked at me with a calm sadness. "Noor is a good girl. She will bring peace to your life."
"You're both insane!" I hissed. "She doesn't love me. I don't love her. She just got abandoned! I'm the replacement—just a spare groom! I'm not a rescue dog!"
Nothing. Not a flicker of hesitation in either of them. My parents were united—in sacrificing me.
My blood boiled.
I glanced toward the stage. There she was. Noor. Dressed like a bride, veiled, sitting quietly like she'd accepted her fate. Like she'd already signed away her life.
And I felt it.
My final hope dying.
If she agreed to this marriage... it was done.
I wanted to scream. To tear apart the stage. To run.
Instead, I was led forward like a pawn.
My feet moved without my mind. Everything felt unreal—like I was trapped in someone else's story. The Qazi was already there, flipping through the nikahnama. Guests murmured, their curiosity masked by polite smiles.
I didn't dare look at Noor.
I couldn't believe this. She had a choice. She could've said no. She should've. But here she was—agreeing.
And to me.
To me?
How could she be okay with this? The girl who always walked around with her chin high, pride higher, suddenly agreeing to be married off like a deal? Maybe I'd misjudged her.
Or maybe she'd misjudged me.
Because right now, all I felt was rage.
Not at Atif. Not even at my parents.
At her.
I sat beside her. My eyes stayed on the floor.
The Qazi asked.
I mumbled yes.
Three times.
Signed the paper.
And just like that, I was a husband. She was my wife.
The word felt foreign. Like something stolen.
She didn't even look at me.
Why would she?
She probably thought she was the one who had sacrificed everything. But what about me? Did anyone ask if I was okay with this? If I wanted this?
Of course not.
All anyone cared about was Noor's honour. Noor's pain. Noor's shattered dreams.
No one thought about Orhan.
No one cared about the guy who got shoved into a wedding he never wanted, with a girl who never wanted him either.
Noor's father hugged me after the nikkah, whispering in my ear, "You're an angel, my son. I'll never forget what you've done."
I stood stiff.
I wasn't an angel.
I was a prisoner.
And if I had any feelings for Noor before today—any hint of softness or history—they died right there.
Now all I felt was hate.
Not because of what she did.
But because she agreed.
Because she let me become her second choice.
And I would never, ever forgive her for that.