The day began in chaos—my wedding day.
The makeup artist was about to arrive, and my heart thudded in anticipation. I sent Atif a message:
"Congratulations, my love. Today, we'll be united forever."
I set the phone aside, smiling to myself. He hadn't been online since yesterday. Maybe he was planning a surprise. Maybe he wanted to make the day extra special. I had a million thoughts swirling in my head, each one sweeter than the last.
The artist worked her magic, transforming me into a bride I barely recognized—eyes lined in kohl, lips a soft rose, and henna glowing against ivory bangles. I felt like the heroine of a dream.
Mama and Baba entered the room. Baba's eyes filled the moment he saw me.
"Mashallah, Noor... you look beautiful."
I hugged them both tightly. This was it—the final day in my childhood home. A new chapter waited beyond this evening.
Shella Aunty came in next, brimming with excitement. My aunts followed. Laughter. Tears. Compliments. Nostalgia. It was everything a wedding should be.
We left for the venue early, two hours before the nikkah, for the photo session.
But Atif wasn't there.
Thirty minutes passed. Then forty-five.
I sent him messages:
"Where are you?"
"Everything okay?"
"Atif, please reply."
No response. No blue ticks.
My stomach churned.
"Traffic, probably," Baba said, though even he didn't sound convinced.
I sat in the bridal room, refusing to spiral. I wouldn't be that bride—nervous, ruined before the ceremony even began.
Ping.
A message.
"I can't. Sorry."
My world tilted.
Just two words. No context. No emotion. Nothing.
My mind raced. Maybe he meant he couldn't bring something? The rings? The flowers?
Before I could decide how to feel, Baba rushed in—face pale, lips trembling.
"He's gone," he said. "His apartment is empty. His mother too. They've disappeared."
I stared at him. "He messaged me... he said..." I held out the phone. I can't. Sorry.
Baba sank onto the sofa beside me, eyes blazing. "I treated him like a son. And this... this is how he thanks us?"
Mama sobbed. "What do we tell the guests? The Qazi is waiting. Our honour..."
The room spun.
Why?
What did I do wrong?
Why would he leave me like this?
A few minutes later, a breathless voice broke through the chaos.
"Sikandar Bhai," one of Baba's men said. "They left for America this morning. One hour ago. Tickets confirmed."
It hit like a slap.
He planned this. He knew. He walked away from me—forever.
I ran outside, needing air, space, anything. And there he was.
Orhan.
Leaning against the wall, I ignored him and started walking
"Your angel didn't show up, huh?" he said, making me stop
Rage surged through me.
"How dare you—" I stepped forward, ready to scream, cry, hit—anything—but Shella Aunty pulled him aside. They whispered. He looked tense, even angry, they were probably arguing
I didn't care.
I sipped some water and turned back inside.
The bridal room was empty now, I sat on sofa
Then Baba entered.
His face wasn't just pale—it was defeated. The kind of look you never want to see on your father. His eyes locked onto mine, and for a second, the chaos outside faded.
"Noor... let's go to the stage. The Qazi is waiting."
I blinked. "What? Atif came?"
He shook his head slowly. "No. But I need you to do something... for me. I need you to marry someone else. Someone I choose."
The words hit like ice water.
"What?" I pulled back. "No... Baba, I can't. How can you even ask that?"
My heart thundered. My hands turned cold.
"Please listen," he said, gently sitting beside me. His voice—steady but trembling—was a sound I had never heard from him before.
"I know this isn't fair. I know your heart is breaking. But I'm your father, Noor. And right now, I need your strength more than I ever have. This... this moment will either protect us or destroy us."
Tears brimmed in his eyes, but he blinked them away.
"People are watching. Guests are whispering. Your Mama—she's shattered. Do you know how many eyes are on our family right now?" His voice cracked. "I'm not asking you to be okay. I'm just asking you to trust me... just this once."
I looked at him.
My Baba.
The man who held my hand when I was scared of thunderstorms. Who taught me how to ride a bike and held me every time I fell. The one who never let me cry alone.
And now... he looked broken. Like I was the only thing holding him together.
My chest clenched painfully.
I didn't want to do it. I didn't want a stranger. I didn't want this marriage. My body screamed no.
But my heart—my heart couldn't bear to see him fall apart.
"Do I have a choice?" I whispered, barely able to speak.
He looked at me with glassy eyes.
"You always have a choice. But if you say yes... I'll carry this guilt, not you. I promise."
And just like that, I nodded.
I didn't say yes because I was brave.
I said yes because I loved my father more than I hated what was happening.
Everything after that felt like a blur. I walked to the stage like a stranger in my own skin. I didn't know who was waiting beside me. I didn't want to know.
Then I saw him.
Orhan.
My chest stopped.
No. It couldn't be.
He didn't look at me. His jaw was tight. His hands clasped in his lap.
I wanted to scream. To run. To vanish.
But Mama held my hand. The whispers in the hall were already rising. The Qazi began.
"Do you accept this marriage?"
Three times, I whispered, "Yes." with tears in my eyes
And just like that... I was married.
To Orhan.
The same boy who once called me unbearable.,
Who mocked me, who always treated me like his enemy, who fought with me
He was now my husband and I was his wife