Chapter 56 The Final Plea
"What's your name?" Queen Roshni asked coldly, her voice echoing through the silent courtroom.
The question sliced through the heavy air, breaking the locked eye contact between Hatim and Sana. Both stood still—two souls torn apart by fate, destiny, and misunderstandings. They didn’t even realise tears had rolled down their cheeks until they hurriedly wiped them away.
Sana took a shaky breath, steadying herself. She turned slowly toward Roshni, her gaze sharp yet tired.
"Don’t you even remember my face anymore?" she whispered. "It’s fine. Let me introduce myself properly then. I am Sana... daughter of Chandini and Aarav."
Gasps echoed around the hall.
Hatim’s expression didn’t change. His eyes stayed locked on Sana’s, unreadable.
Sana stepped closer, desperate. “I know you’ll believe me,” she said softly, eyes full of shattered hope. “You were there… the one who saw my face that night. You knew it was me.”
But Hatim didn’t move. His next words hit her like a slap.
“I know the truth,” he said. “I know everything. That you were the one who betrayed me. You didn’t love me. You were after the throne… after the power and the gold.”
Sana’s breath hitched.
Her Hatim. Her only home. The one she’d dreamed of through years of pain. Was this really him?
“No…” she murmured, heart pounding. “Hatim, what are you saying? I never—”
“Enough,” he snapped, voice trembling with hidden emotions. “You broke me, Sana. You left me bleeding in the past while you hid behind lies.”
Her chest ached as if something inside had cracked.
But still, she stood tall. She had to. For her truth. For her mother. For her love.
Wiping away a fresh tear, she said, “If you don’t trust me, I’ll still prove myself. I’ve been doing it all my life. I don’t need your trust to fight for justice. But I need a chance. That’s all.”
Queen Roshni stood, eyes narrowed.
“You speak with confidence,” she said coldly. “But your words mean nothing. Not when the safety of the kingdom is at stake.”
The murmurs in the court grew louder. “Kill her,” someone shouted. “She’s lying!”
Hatim clenched his fists, caught in a storm of emotions—memories, regrets, doubt. His heart knew something that his mind refused to accept.
But before he could respond, Sana stepped forward.
“Even the guilty are given a chance to speak before punishment,” she said. “I ask for the same. Just three months. Let me prove the truth—about myself, about my parents, and about my loyalty… to this kingdom and to Hatim.”
She looked into Hatim’s eyes then—not as a girl begging for love, but as a woman demanding fairness.
“I ask this not as your wife,” she said, “but as your subject. As your queen.”
The room fell quiet.
Hatim looked away, conflicted. Every part of him wanted to pull her close, to believe her, to trust the girl he’d once risked everything for. But betrayal still clawed at his soul.
“If you can’t prove yourself in three months…” he said slowly, “you will be executed.”
Sana swallowed the lump in her throat, nodding. “So be it. But tell me one thing—if I die proving the truth, will your heart finally believe me then?”
Hatim had no answer.
His silence was louder than any verdict.
They stood there, in front of hundreds—but only they could feel the silence between them. The past hung in the air like a ghost, whispering stories only they could hear.