Hana’s POV

I spent the whole day hiding in my room. I didn’t have the courage to go downstairs—I knew everyone would tease me. They’d seen us like that.

Ugh, Allah! Why did they all have to see us? It’s so embarrassing. What must they think of me… and of Maan…?

“Hana!”

I snapped out of my thoughts when I heard Fathima Aapi’s voice and a knock on my door.

“Hana, open the door.”

How long will I hide? I have to face everyone. I took a deep breath.

“Yes, Aapi… coming,” I sighed, and opened the door.

Fathima Aapi stood there, smiling kindly.

“What is it, Aapi? Do you need something?” I asked innocently.

“Yes. Mama told me to call her bhabi,” she said with a smirk. I blushed at the word bhabi.

“Hahaha—look at your face, Hana! You’re so cute when you blush.” She laughed; I narrowed my eyes.

“Okay, come on—everyone’s waiting for you in the dining room,” Aapi said, gently pulling me downstairs.

************

In the dining room, everyone sat around the table. Riya Aapi gestured to the seat beside her.

“Come, Hana,” she called. I sat down—and instantly regretted it when I saw Maan across from me. He looked up, froze, then quickly looked down at his plate.

We all ate in silence until Baba cleared his throat.

“I’ve decided something,” he announced.

“What?” Mama asked.

“I want Ruman and Hana’s rukhsati to take place before Fathima’s wedding.”

My heart skipped a beat.

“What?!” Maan yelled, standing up.

“Yes, Ruman—it was already decided. When you returned, we would have your and Hana’s rukhsati before Fathima’s wedding,” Baba repeated.

“No, Baba—I told you I don’t want this!” Maan shouted.

“What do you mean you don’t want this?” Baba stood and raised his voice.

“I. Am. Not. Ready. For. This. Marriage,” he said slowly, and my heart clenched at his words. He turned and left; Baba followed, and we all trailed after them.

“Wait, Ruman Ahmed Mirza!” Baba called. Maan stopped and faced him.

“Baba, I’m telling you one last time—forget it. I will not marry,” Maan said angrily.

“You’re already married.”

“I don’t accept this marriage.”

“Whether you accept it or not, it doesn’t change reality,” Baba said, arms crossed.

“Ruman, beta, listen to me—it’s for your own good. Hana is perfect for you. Trust me, beta; you will be happy with her,” Mama said, as my tears began to fall.

I couldn’t believe Maan hated our marriage so much. Before he left for the USA, he always said he couldn’t wait for our wedding. What happened?

“No offense, Mama—Hana is a wonderful girl, but not for me. I’m not saying I don’t want to marry Hana; I’m saying I don’t want to marry at all. I’m not husband material. Marriage isn’t for me,” he stated firmly.

“Ruman, accept reality. Hana is already your nikah wife. No one can change that fact—not even you.”

“I can change it, Baba. This nikah is the problem, right? I’ll end this nikah, and then everything will be fine. No one can force me.”

Panic gripped me. A cold shiver ran down my spine. Sharp pain stabbed my heart.

“I will divorce her.”

A collective gasp rose from everyone. I froze in shock and fear, staring at him with wide eyes. My breath caught in my throat.

No! He can’t!

“What the hell, Ruman? How could you say that?” Mama shouted; Baba’s hands clenched.

“You can’t—” Baba began, teeth gritted, but Maan interrupted.

“Yes, I can, Baba. I want this mess cleaned up—in fact, I’ll divorce her right now.”

“Noooooooo!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. Everyone turned to me. I ran to him on trembling legs. He looked at me, stunned.

“N…no…no…Ma…Maan,” I stammered, shaking. My voice broke with hiccups.

I couldn’t believe he was my Maan—the one I’d waited years for, every breath hoping for his love. I never waited for him to divorce me. My only dream was to be loved by my Maan. I know I’d die if he divorced me.

“Maan… don’t say that… please…” I begged, holding his hand, sobbing.

“Hana, please…I don’t want this marriage,” he said, but I cut him off.

“No one’s forcing you. If you don’t want it, fine—no problem. But please… don’t say that again. Don’t divorce me… Maan, please… I’m begging you.”

••••••••••••••

Author’s POV

She wept; Ruman looked on, concerned. He’d resolved that night—when Hana said, “I do believe in this marriage”—that he would tell everyone he wanted a divorce if questioned again. But seeing Hana like this tore at him. He hadn’t realized how much this marriage meant to her.

He still believed he couldn’t spend his life with one girl. Hana wasn’t his “type,” and he craved freedom: to travel, to live unbound. In his mind, the marriage had to end. He felt sorry for Hana—but not as much as he valued his dreams.

“Hana, stop it,” Marziya Aapi’s voice interrupted his thoughts. She gently tried to pull Hana away.

“No… Aapi, he…” Hana sobbed.

“Shhh… come, Hanu, we’ll talk later,” Marziya said, but Hana wouldn’t budge.

“Hana, beta, listen…” Ahmed Mirza stepped forward, but Hana cut him off.

“Baba, please don’t force him. If he doesn’t want this, let it be, Baba… please,” she pleaded. Ahmed looked at her with concern—and nodded.

“Fine. We won’t force you. But if anyone speaks of this again—or even thinks it—consider your father dead to you,” he said, glaring at Ruman, then walked away.

Ruman watched as his mother’s eyes filled with tears. She said nothing and followed Ahmed. His sisters looked at him with hurt and disappointment. His heart clenched.

“Hana, come,” Marziya said, guiding her away.

“But… Aapi…” Hana protested.

“He can’t do anything now,” Marziya said, shooting Ruman a stern look. She led crying Hana from the room.

Ruman stormed to his room and slammed the door.

“Why? Why? Why?!” he screamed, clutching his head.

He loved his parents but longed for freedom. He couldn’t accept this marriage—but couldn’t bear losing his family. There had to be another way out of the nikah.

Then a thought—dark and cunning—surfaced.

I can’t divorce her—but she can.

An evil smirk curved his lips.

“I’m going to break you, Hana… in every way… until you beg me for a divorce,” he muttered, laughing softly.

•••••••••••••••

Hana’s POV

I lay on my bed, replaying the last hour. Did I really hear him say he’d divorce me? No—he can’t mean that. He only says cruel things when he’s angry. He can’t divorce me.

When he said it, I was terrified—my world seemed to shatter, my heart on the brink of breaking. No one can understand that pain. I waited all those years not for divorce but for his love. I’ve loved Maan my entire life; I can’t imagine living without him. He is my happiness, my peace, my everything.

I thought of him until sleep finally claimed me.

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