3
(Leave that. I heard she had an affair with that boy, and only after the bride refused to marry him did these two end up getting married)
" Kuch khot honge ladki mein. "
(There must be something wrong with the girl.)
" Areh ek ladke ke saath pakdi gayi... maa baap kya karte. Karwa di shaadi. "
(She was caught with a boy. What else could her parents do? They got her married)
" Khuda esi ladkiyo ko hidayat deh. "
(May God guide such girls)
" Pta nhi kese maa baap hai... Apni beti ko kuch sikhaya bhi nhi. "
(I don't know what kind of parents they are. They never taught their daughter anything)
" Maa bhi thori na kam thi. Ese hee touh baap ko fasaya tha. "
(Her mother wasn't any better. She trapped her husband the same way)
Every sentence landed like poison dipped arrows, each one more vicious than the last. The women spoke with such confidence that anyone listening would have believed they had witnessed Safiya's life unfold with their own eyes. Safiya remained where she stood, shoulders straight and chin held high.
Her jaw tightened ever so slightly, but that was the only crack in her composure. She refused to grant them the satisfaction of seeing her break. Beside her, Adira's hands had curled into fists, her breathing growing heavier with every passing insult.
Neelo finally drifted away from the gossiping circle, her lips curled into a smug smile as she made her way towards Safiya.
Every step she took radiated superiority, as though she had been waiting for this very opportunity.
She stopped directly in front of Safiya, folded her arms across her chest, and looked her up and down with undisguised satisfaction.
A few nearby women fell silent, sensing trouble. Their curious gazes shifted between the two women, eager to hear every word.
Neelo's smile widened.
" Nhi aaya ya phir laana hee nhi chahti thi tum? ", she taunted, deliberately looking around as though searching for the missing groom.
(He didn't come... or you simply didn't want to bring him?)
Without waiting for an answer, she let out a mocking chuckle.
" Mere bete ko thukraya tha, aur ab dekho... pata nhi kis gaon mein shaadi karni pari. Pata nhi kis dehati, gawar se. "
(Sge rejected my son, and now look at her... She had to marry someone from some unknown village. Who knows what uncultured, rustic man she ended up with.)
She shook her head dramatically, feigning pity.
" Itni padhi-likhi ladki ki shaadi gaon mein karne ki kya zarurat aan pari? "
(Why did such an educated girl have to marry into a village?)
Her words dripped with contempt as she took another slow glance at Safiya.
" Safiya, tumhe toh educated ladka chahiye tha na? Mere bete ko mana kiya tha na tumne. Aaj dekho... kahan se kahan pahunch gayi ho. "
(Safiya, you wanted an educated man, didn't you? You rejected my son, didn't you? Now look at where life has brought you.)
A smug smile lingered on her face as she leaned in slightly, lowering her voice just enough to make it sound like gossip rather than an outright insult.
" Maine suna hai uss gaon mein ladkiyon ko pair ki mail samjha jaata hai. "
(I've heard that in that village, women are treated like the dirt beneath people's feet.)
Several women exchanged uneasy glances, but none dared interrupt.
Neelo clicked her tongue before delivering her final jab.
" Isiliye toh ladkiyon ko zyada itraana nhi chahiye, kyunki ek ladki ke naseeb mein kya hota hai, koi nhi bol sakta. "
(That's why girls shouldn't be so arrogant, because no one knows what fate has written for a woman.)
Safiya looked at her for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, almost lazily, the corner of her lips lifted into a faint smile.
"Strange," she said softly, her voice carrying none of the anger Neelo was desperately trying to provoke.
"For someone who claims to have moved on, you seem unusually invested in my marriage..
Look around, there's your son trying to flirt with every girl that he sees.
And your daughter... Well, everyone knows she loves to pick up trash. "
Neelo's smile faltered.
Safiya continued, still calm.
"If my life has become the highlight of your conversations, then perhaps it isn't mine that's lacking."
Without waiting for another response, she turned toward Adira.
" Aaj mama aur baba anniversary na hota touh inki zabaan kheench leti. "
( If today wasn't Mama and Baba's anniversary, I would've ripped their tongues out.)
Adira huffed angrily while Safiya merely smiled, as though none of it had been worth her time.
Needing a moment away from the suffocating crowd, Safiya quietly excused herself. The noise of the banquet slowly faded behind her as she stepped into the quieter corridor leading toward the balcony. Cool evening air drifted through the open arches, finally allowing her to breathe.
She had barely taken another step when someone blocked her path.
Nosherwan.
He stood there with an unsettling confidence, as though he genuinely believed this conversation would end in his favour.
" Safiya ji I want to talk to you. "
Safiya folded her arms across her chest, waiting.
"I know you're married... but that doesn't matter to me. I'll still marry you. Just answer one thing honestly... has your husband touched you? If he hasn't... then I can still accept you."
Not a flicker crossed her face.
Instead, she gave him a small, almost amused smile.
"How generous of you," she replied lightly. "I don't remember applying for your acceptance."
His brows knitted together.
"I know you only married him because of those allegations. Divorce him. Marry me instead. At least you'll get to stay in the city."
Safiya tilted her head.
"You've built quite an impressive fantasy. The only problem is that I'm not interested in playing the heroine."
Nosherwan ignored her sarcasm.
"I'm not stopping you from working. You can have a job if you want. Just remember your real responsibility comes first. Finish all the housework, do whatever my mother tells you, then go to work. Don't expect my family to adjust for you."
Safiya actually let out a soft laugh.
"You're offering me permission to live my own life?"
She looked him up and down with deliberate slowness.
"That's adorable."
His face darkened.
"That village is disgusting. I don't understand why you'd rather stay there than marry someone like me."
Safiya's smile disappeared.
Her eyes turned frighteningly cold.
"Someone like you?"
She took one slow step forward until they stood barely an arm's length apart.
"A man who measures a woman's worth by whether she's been touched. A man who thinks marriage is charity. A man who believes basic respect is a favour."
She gave a soft, mocking nod.
"No wonder you're still searching for a wife."
His face flushed crimson.
Before he could recover enough to speak again, " You bitch"
SLAP!
The sharp crack echoed through the empty corridor.
His head snapped violently to one side.
For a heartbeat, complete silence followed.
Safiya looked around once, ensuring the hallway remained deserted.
Then, with effortless grace, she gathered the heavy layers of her lehenga in one hand.
Before Nosherwan could even process what had happened, she drove her knee straight into his groin.
A strangled cry escaped him as he doubled over instantly, collapsing to his knees while clutching himself in agony.
Safiya calmly adjusted the pleats of her lehenga as though she had merely brushed dust off it.
"You should be grateful," she said coolly. "I chose peace today."
Without sparing him another glance, she walked past him with the same composed elegance she had carried all evening, leaving him writhing alone on the polished marble floor.
A strangled gasp tore from his throat as he folded over himself, both hands instinctively clutching his groin. The color drained from his face, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him.
Safiya bent ever so slightly until they were at eye level. There was no trace of panic on her face now. Only cold, unfiltered fury.
"You filthy bastard. One more disgusting word about me or my husband, and I'll make sure your bloodline ends with you."
She jabbed a finger hard against his chest, each word measured with frightening precision.
"The audacity to ask if my husband has touched me? Who the hell do you think you are?"
"And don't you dare speak about my husband again. If he ever finds out you stood here insulting his wife, you'll be praying I get to you before he does."
Her voice lowered into a whisper so calm that it was infinitely more terrifying than a scream.
"Now get out of my sight before I forget every ounce of restraint I have left."
Nosherwan didn't wait for another warning. Half stumbling, half running, he disappeared down the corridor as though death itself had begun chasing him.
Safiya watched him leave without the slightest satisfaction on her face. Men like him weren't worth celebrating victories over.
She let out a slow breath and finally stepped onto the balcony.
The cool night breeze brushed against her face, carrying with it the faint scent of rain and jasmine from the gardens below. The muffled laughter and music from inside became nothing more than distant echoes.
For the first time in what felt like hours, she allowed herself to breathe.
Her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly as her thoughts drifted, almost against her will, to Zaviyar.
Had he been here...
Strong arms would have slipped around her waist from behind without a word.
He would have rested his chin against her shoulder, stealing away every ounce of tension she'd been carrying before asking in that infuriatingly calm voice who had dared to upset his wife.
The thought tugged an involuntary smile onto her lips.
It vanished just as quickly.
A pair of frail arms suddenly wrapped around her from behind.
Every muscle in her body tensed.
Instinct took over.
Safiya drove her elbow sharply into the man's ribs.
A pained grunt escaped him as he staggered backwards.
She spun around, already recognizing those familiar hands. Her expression hardened instantly.
"Adeel, what the fuck do you think you're doing?", he rubbed his aching side before looking up at her with the same infuriating smile she had once mistaken for charm.
"Why are you acting like we've never hugged before?", Safiya looked at him as though he were something repulsive she'd accidentally stepped on.
"We barely did, even when we were in a relationship. And now I'm someone else's wife.", his smile only widened.
"Oh, really? And does your husband know why you're with him?", her eyes turned glacial.
"Don't. You. Dare."
Instead of backing away, Adeel deliberately stepped closer, invading every inch of her personal space.
"That's the fire I like.", his gaze shamelessly settled on her lips.
"Did I ever tell you how good that lipstick looks on you? Makes me wonder what it tastes like..."
Disgust flashed across Safiya's face.
Without warning, she shoved him with enough force to send him stumbling backwards.
He recovered with a bitter laugh.
"Natasha's away. I came here for you."
Safiya laughed, an amused and disgusted chuckle. The sound held no warmth.
"Then turn around and leave. Because I don't even recognize the man standing in front of me anymore. I'm married, Adeel. Whatever we had died a long time ago."
He scoffed.
"Married?"
A bitter chuckle escaped him.
"A marriage you orchestrated. So tell me... how much did you pay his fiancee to disappear? Oh you threatened her... That old woman to collapse in front of you so you could pretend to be the soft hearted women? Or Adnan to leak those photos of you and your husband?"
His eyes narrowed with misplaced confidence.
"Did you really think I wouldn't figure it out?"
Safiya said nothing. She simply watched him. The silence unsettled him far more than any denial could have. He smirked anyway.
"I wonder what your husband will do when he learns you manipulated innocent people just to trap him. It'll only take a few bundles of cash before they start talking."
For several long seconds...
Safiya merely stared at him.
Then...
She smiled, the kind of smile that made people instinctively take a step back in terror
"Talking?" she repeated quietly. She took one slow step towards him.
"Tell me, Adeel... "
Another step and he stepped back seeing, her face turn dark, devoid of any emotions.
"...how exactly do you plan on making corpses speak?", the smile vanished from his face.
The blood drained from it almost instantly.
"...What?"
For the first time that night, uncertainty crept into his voice. The confidence with which he had walked into the banquet hall to corner her, suddenly evaporated into thin air.
"Safiya..." he whispered. "What did you do?"
"Nothing.", she tilted her head.
For a moment, Adeel simply stared at her, trying to read her face. There was no guilt, no fear, no panic. The woman standing before him looked infuriatingly calm, as though they were discussing tomorrow's weather instead of lives that had seemingly vanished. His heartbeat quickened.
"Did... did you have them kidnapped?", the corners of her lips twitched.
"What do you think, Adeel?", he searched her face desperately, hoping to find even the slightest crack in her composure.
"You can't be serious...", Safiya took one slow, deliberate step towards him.
"Kidnap them?", her smile sharpened.
"Why would I kidnap them... when killing them would make far more sense?"
Silence swallowed the space between them. Every ounce of colour drained from Adeel's face. He wanted to believe she was bluffing. But the certainty in her eyes refused to let him.
Safiya leaned in, just enough for only him to hear.
"Keep my name out of your mouth, stay away from me...
unless you want to be next. You're still breathing because a certain someone wants me to keep you alive.
But believe me... ", she held his gaze for another heartbeat before brushing past him without so much as another glance, " Cross paths with me again, and I'll make sure you can never do so again. "
Behind her, Adeel remained rooted to the spot.
For the first time since he'd known her. Safiya frightened him.
Safiya walked back towards the grand hall at an unhurried pace, her expression composed despite the storm of emotions clawing beneath the surface. She needed noise. She needed people. Anything that could drown out the conversation she had just endured.
The moment she pushed open the towering carved wooden doors, warmth and life rushed to greet her.
The magnificent hall shimmered beneath crystal chandeliers, while countless strands of golden fairy lights draped across the ceiling like stars captured indoors.
The rhythmic beat of the dhol echoed through every corner, accompanied by the cheerful melody of wedding songs that had generations of women instinctively clapping along.
Laughter rang freely through the room as colourful lehengas swirled across the polished marble floor, their embroidered dupattas catching the light with every graceful turn.
Bangles chimed together like tiny bells, anklets sang with every step, and the fragrance of fresh roses, mogra, and rich attar lingered pleasantly in the air.
It was vibrant.
Alive.
A world completely untouched by the ugliness waiting beyond its doors.
Before she could quietly disappear into the crowd, Adira caught sight of her from the middle of the dance floor.
Her entire face lit up.
"Dance karte hain, chal!"
(Come on, let's dance!)
She hurried over and immediately looped an arm through Safiya's.
Safiya instinctively leaned back, an embarrassed smile tugging at her lips.
"Main nahi..."
(Not me...)
"Arre chal na! Sirf ek gaana."
( Oh, come on! Just one song)
Before Safiya could protest again, Adira was already pulling her towards the centre of the circle.
The women cheered the moment she stepped in. Some clapped louder and others whistled playfully. A few aunties immediately began teasing her, insisting that the organiser must show some moves..
At first, Safiya barely moved. Her hands lifted uncertainly, following the rhythm almost out of obligation rather than desire.
The heavy off-white lehenga brushed elegantly against the marble beneath her feet as she swayed from side to side, still painfully aware of every pair of eyes watching her.
Adira laughed before spinning dramatically beneath her own raised arm, earning loud cheers from everyone around them.
Grinning mischievously, she caught Safiya's hand and twirled her into the rhythm. Another woman joined in, then another, until Safiya found herself surrounded by women, who were the young daughter in law's and daughters of the neighbourhood, laughing so freely that resisting them became impossible.
Little by little, her shoulders relaxed. The stiffness disappeared from her movements.
She stopped thinking, and started dancing according to the beat she recognised. One which Adira and she had practiced to dance at Adira's wedding. A genuine smile slowly found its way onto her face.
Not the polite smile she'd mastered over the years. Not the one she wore to silence questions.
A real one.
Bright enough to soften every sharp edge she'd been carrying. Her earrings brushed gently against her neck each time she twirled, the tiny bells of her payal chimed beneath every graceful step, while her glass bangles created a delicate melody of their own every time she lifted her hands.
The circle widened and narrowed with the music, laughter erupting when Adira exaggerated a ridiculous dance step, dragging everyone into uncontrollable giggles.
For those few fleeting moments...
Safiya forgot everything, the whispers, the betrayal, the hatred, the accusations. She forgot the crushing weight that had settled on her shoulders ever since that marriage. She simply became a daughter celebrating her parents.
A girl laughing with her family and dancing without fear. But peace had never lasted very long in her life.
The whispers returned, like always. Even amongst the pounding dhol and the music. Even amongst the laughter.
Even beneath the applause. She heard them. Soft murmurs floating through the air, the judgements, the harsh and cruel words. Waiting to pull her back into reality.
The whispers began quietly, slipping from one corner of the hall to another like poison carried on the wind.
"Poor girl... her own husband couldn't even be bothered to come with her.", one of the women said, a hint of amusement hidden in her tone.
"Look at her, pretending to smile. If he truly cared, would she be standing here all by herself?", another clicked her tongue.
"Have you ever seen them together? Neither at family functions nor anywhere else. It doesn't even look like a real marriage.", Neelo said adding fuel to the fire.
"After everything that happened before the wedding... what respectable man could ever accept a woman with that kind of past?"
"He married her because he had no choice. Men like him don't keep women like her in their hearts."
"Characterless..."
The last word wasn't spoken loudly. It didn't have to be. It reached her ears with frightening clarity, carving through her chest with the precision of a knife that knew exactly where to strike.
For the briefest moment, the smile on Safiya's lips trembled. Her heartbeat stuttered.
The music around her suddenly felt distant, the laughter blurred into meaningless noise as every cruel remark echoed relentlessly inside her head.
But only for a second. She refused to let them watch her break.
If they wanted entertainment. If they wanted to witness the woman they had spent years judging finally shatter before their eyes. She would deny them that satisfaction.
Instead, she smiled wider.
Then she danced. She spun gracefully, the rich emerald fabric of her lehenga blooming around her like waves beneath glittering chandeliers.
Every clap from the girls surrounding her urged her on, every beat of the music drowned beneath the storm raging inside her heart.
She kept turning, each spin becoming faster than the last, as though she could outrun every insult chasing her, every accusation that had haunted her long before she stepped into this hall.
One more turn. She watched Adira circling around her and the other ladies following suit. She smiled, knowing the choreography. A sharp snap suddenly cracked beneath the music.
Safiya twirled gracefully across the dance floor, the embroidered hem of her lehenga fanning around her with every spin.
The soft chime of her bangles blended with the music as she surrendered herself to the rhythm, completely lost. A smile ghosted across her lips, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond the sea of guests, oblivious to everything else.
Then, ghe grand doors slowly swung open. A tall silhouette stepped inside. His strides were unhurried, deliberate, each measured step echoing against the polished marble floor. Conversations faltered.
A few women instinctively turned, their eyes lingering on the striking man dressed in black. His lean frame, broad shoulders, and commanding presence seemed to eclipse everyone around him, drawing attention without uttering a single word.
Yet Safiya remained blissfully unaware.
Her back was to him as she spun once more, her dupatta swirling through the air like a ribbon of light. The melody held her captive, and she continued to dance, never noticing the man whose unwavering gaze had already found her.
The delicate thread of her silver payal gave way without warning, sending tiny jingles and shimmering ghungroos scattering across the polished marble floor. Before she could steady herself, the broken anklet slipped beneath the heel of her sandal.
Her foot twisted painfully. The ground disappeared beneath her. A collective gasp swept through the hall.
Time slowed as her body tipped backwards helplessly as gravity pulled her down and instinctively, her eyes squeezed shut. Not because she feared the fall.
But because she couldn't bear the humiliation waiting for her the moment she hit the floor.
From opposite ends of the hall, Adeel and Nosherwan reacted at the exact same instant. Both men surged forward without thinking. Neither of them was fast enough. Before anyone could even process what had happened, another figure stepped into her path. She never touched the ground.
Instead...
She collided with something impossibly solid and strong.
Powerful arms wrapped securely around her waist with effortless precision, stopping her fall as though it had been the easiest thing in the world.
There wasn't even the slightest stumble in his stance.
It was as if the force of her fall meant nothing to him.
The hall fell silent. The music continued to play, yet no one heard it anymore. The circling around them stopped, and looked at them shocked.
Safiya slowly opened her eyes. The first thing that entered her blurred vision was a familiar, unmistakable fragrance of expensive oud, rich, warm and intoxicating.
A scent she would recognize anywhere. Before she even gathered the courage to lift her gaze. Her heart already knew.
Zaviyar.
For one suspended heartbeat, neither of them spoke.
The music continued somewhere in the distance, but neither of them could hear it anymore.
The laughter that had filled the hall only moments ago faded into complete silence.
Even the relentless whispers that had followed Safiya all evening disappeared, swallowed by the weight of the moment unfolding before everyone's eyes.
Hundreds of guests stood motionless beneath the glittering crystal chandeliers, their gazes locked on the couple standing at the very centre of the hall.
Safiya simply stared at him.
He had come. Not because anyone had pressured him. Not because family expectations demanded it. Not because appearances needed to be maintained.
He had come for her. As though destiny itself had been waiting for that exact moment, the hidden floral installation above them finally released its shower. Thousands of rose petals cascaded from the ceiling in slow, graceful waves.
Crimson, blush and ivory petals floated lazily through the air, twirling around them before settling over Zaviyar's broad shoulders, catching delicately in Safiya's hair and blanketing the polished marble beneath their feet until the floor resembled a garden in full bloom.
The sight was so breathtaking that more than one guest forgot to breathe.
Still holding her securely against him, Zaviyar lowered his gaze.
Only then did he notice the broken silver payal caught beneath the heel of her sandal. His expression softened almost imperceptibly.
Without the slightest hesitation, he bent down, right there, in front of everyone.
A stunned silence swept across the hall.
The same man whose pride had become the subject of countless stories, whose mere presence could silence the entire panchayat and make powerful politicians reconsider their words, had lowered himself before his wife without a flicker of hesitation.
He did not glance around to see who was watching.
He simply reached for the broken anklet.
With slow, careful fingers, he freed it from beneath her sandal, making sure not to tug at her foot.
The tiny silver beads and scattered ghungroos were gently brushed aside so they wouldn't prick her feet.
Every movement was patient and unexpectedly tender, as though shielding her from even the smallest discomfort came as naturally to him as breathing.
His fingers grazed across her ankle, making her shudder as goosebumps erupted across her arms. He pulled away the payal softly.
Only after satisfying himself that she was standing comfortably did he straighten to his full height once again.
A lone crimson rose petal rested against the shoulder of his black coat. Another had woven itself into the soft strands of Safiya's hair.
For a long moment, he simply looked at her.
His eyes, usually unreadable and commanding, held a quiet warmth that she had never seen so openly before.
A faint smile touched the corners of his lips.
Then, in a calm voice that carried effortlessly through the pin-drop silence of the hall, he said,
"Assalamualaikum, biwi."
[ Peace be upon you, my wife. ]
No grand declaration of love could have silenced the rumours more completely. No explanation could have restored her honour more powerfully.
By catching her before anyone else could. By kneeling before her without caring who watched. And with those three simple words...
Zaviyar had answered every accusation the world had ever thrown at her. He never argued with the whispers. He never acknowledged the gossip. He simply stood beside his wife.
And in doing so, he made one truth unmistakably clear to everyone present.
She was his. And he had never been ashamed of it.
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