Author’s POV

Isha took a deep breath and uttered the words that tore the ground beneath him.

"I'm going to say yes to Amar's proposal. You give me divorce, then I will marry him."

He froze, stunned, unable to believe his ears.

"What did you say?" he asked again, seeking confirmation.

"I'm ready to marry Amar after you divorce me," she repeated, making his jaw clench in anger. Instinctively, he marched toward her.

"Do you know what you are saying, Isha?!" he demanded, gripping her arm. She hissed in pain.

"Chodein mujhe! (Leave me!)" she wriggled. "And yes, I know what I'm saying." She freed herself from his grip as he loosened it, seeing her defiance.

"Isha, you said you can't think about any other man… then how can you…?" His words trailed off as hurt clouded his eyes. Isha felt her heart clench at his disappointed gaze, but she couldn’t back down. This was now—or never.

"Trust me, I can't think about anyone else while I'm in your nikah. That's why I'm saying—divorce me and let me decide my future. I'm only nineteen. I have my whole life ahead, and I can’t live in this loneliness. You will be happy with Sofia baaji, and I can be happy with… Ama… Amar," she stuttered, hating to say Amar's name aloud.

"You said you love me," he reminded her. He didn’t know what he wanted, but one thing was clear—he couldn’t see her with anyone else. He couldn’t divorce her. Selfish or not, he wanted Isha to remain in his nikah, to be his, no matter what the world saw.

"I do. I do. That’s why I want to pull you out of this dilemma. This all started with our nikah, and if this nikah ends, maybe everything will be okay," she said, trying to justify her words.

"Nothing can be okay, Isha… Nothing can be…" His voice faltered as he cupped her face with one hand. "I can't divorce you," he whispered helplessly.

"Then accept me," she demanded, staring into his eyes. "Accept me as your wife. Accept that you love me. And I promise, I will be only yours. Just accept me, and I will accept everything you give me. Even if it means being your secret wife for life, I will accept it," she said desperately. He stared back, words failing him.

"I… I can't betray Sofia," he murmured in distress. Isha sighed and took a step back.

"You have two days to decide. If you can’t accept me by the day after tomorrow morning, I will go to Amma Jaan and announce my decision to marry Amar," she said, walking out, leaving a deeply distressed Arshad behind.

---

Arshad’s POV

She wants to move on.

She wants a divorce.

She wants to marry Amar.

Those words made my heart and mind spiral into chaos. A few weeks ago, I wanted her to move on—but she didn’t. Now, when I can’t bear the thought of her marrying anyone else, she does. The thought of divorcing her made me physically sick.

No. I can’t do this.

She is mine. She can’t marry my brother.

I lay on the lawn, head resting back, eyes closed. After the morning conversation with Isha, I felt suffocated in my room.

"Arshad?" Amma Jaan’s voice broke through my thoughts. I opened my eyes to see her standing before me. I sat up straight.

"Hmm," I murmured.

"Are you okay, beta? Are you in pain?" she asked gently.

Is it that obvious?

"Uh… no," I shook my head. She sat beside me, and I rested my head on her shoulder as she caressed my face.

"Don't lie. I’m your mother. I can see what you feel. Your eyes turn red when you are in pain or stress," she stated. I remained silent. "Tell me, beta… what’s bothering you?" she asked again.

"Amma Jaan… is it possible for a man to love two women—his two wives—at the same time?" I couldn’t stop myself from asking. I needed an answer. What I felt for Isha—was it love? And if it was, what did that mean for Sofia? Could a man truly love both?

Her eyebrows raised in suspicion. "Why are you asking this?"

I shifted slightly, turning to her. "I have a friend who has two wives. He loves his first wife, but then had to marry a second for someone else. He didn’t choose to marry, nor did he choose to feel anything for his second wife—but he became restless, unable to understand if what he felt was love or mere attraction. Could a man love two wives at the same time?"

"Why not?" she asked calmly.

"Because he loves his first wife," I murmured.

"If a man couldn’t love two wives equally, then Allah wouldn’t have given him the right to marry four times. Allah made space in a man’s heart for his wives. The heart is pure, innocent. If love exists there, it is love. You said he didn’t choose to marry her, nor did he choose to feel anything for her—but it still happened. Why? Because that is Allah’s will. If He binds your friend to his second wife in the sacred bond of Nikah and makes him love her, then He knows the reason behind every decision. We shouldn’t question His decisions; we should accept them and pray that whatever He decrees is in our favor," she said with a small, knowing smile. "Your friend should accept his feelings and his wife—and leave the rest to Allah."

I sat silently, staring at the ground.

---

The whole day and night passed, and my dilemma persisted. Sofia’s face made me want to bury my feelings for Isha, to let her live her life happily. But the thought of someone else claiming what was mine now made me want to hold her close.

She is mine. Only mine. How can I let her belong to someone else? No matter if he is my brother.

Then accept her. Claim her as yours. Only yours.

The thought made me smile dreamily—but my smile vanished when Sofia stirred beside me, settling back to sleep. I stared at her serene face, gently moving strands of hair from her cheeks.

Will Sofia ever forgive me for this?

Can I face her?

I love her—but now, my feelings for Isha are stronger.

I was thinking of Sofia when suddenly her words echoed in my mind:

"I trust you. I love you. And I know you will never break my trust."

Gulping down my sorrow, I leaned down and kissed her temple before leaving the bed and heading to the bathroom.

I can’t make a decision.

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

Author’s POV

"Isha, set this on the table," Kubra Bi said, handing her two dishes. Isha took them and walked to the dining room. It was already 9 a.m., and Arshad hadn’t come out of his room, as had been the case for the past few days.

He finally emerged with Sofia.

Isha was arranging the table when Amar walked into the room. He froze mid-step as he saw Isha setting the table, a strand of hair falling on her cheek, making her look utterly alluring. A small smile tugged at his lips. He had been drawn to her from the moment he first laid eyes on her—her innocence and beauty were captivating.

He took a step toward her. This was the first time he had found her alone since his proposal.

"Good morning," Amar greeted softly. Isha was lost in her world until his voice reached her.

Raising her eyes, she saw Arshad standing behind Amar, both staring at her—one glaring in anger, the other smiling in admiration.

A small smile crossed her lips. "Good morning," she replied to Amar, sending Arshad’s heart into turmoil. He felt a fierce urge to pull her away from Amar’s admiring gaze.

Amar asked about breakfast as he took his seat. Mrs Malik and Asam entered shortly after. Isha answered Amar’s question with a polite smile, greeted Mrs Malik and Asam, and then walked into the kitchen without looking at Arshad, though he knew she was aware of his presence.

"Arshad," Sofia called softly, noticing him standing there. He snapped out of his trance.

"Let’s go," he said, walking with her to the dining table.

Isha returned with halwa in her hands.

"Wow… Halwa!" Amar beamed, excitement lighting up his face. It was his favorite dessert. He looked at Isha. "You made this?"

"Jee (Yes)," she nodded with a smile, making Arshad clench his jaw and fists.

"I love this halwa," Amar said, beginning to fill his plate as Isha walked away.

"Isha, I’m going to feed Jawad; you clean up the kitchen," Kubra Bi instructed. Isha nodded.

"Okay, Kubra Bi. You go and feed Jawad, or else he’ll come here and make a fuss," she said, her face a mock expression of horror. Kubra Bi chuckled and walked out, taking a plate with her.

Isha was wiping the counter when suddenly someone grabbed her arms and spun her around.

"Kuch zyada nahi muskura rahi thi tum Amar ke samne? (Weren’t you smiling too much in front of Amar?)" Arshad gritted his teeth.

"Nahi to. Aapko aisa kyun laga? (No. Why do you think that?)" she asked, wiggling to free her arms.

"Isha," he moved closer, his face inches from hers. "Ye jo tumhare dimag me wahiyat baat chalri hai na, nikal ke phek do ise. (This disgusting thought running in your mind… throw it out of your head.)" He warned her. Isha stopped struggling, matching his glare.

"Kyun? Kya burayi hai mera Amar se shadi ke khayal me? (What’s wrong with thinking about marrying Amar?)" she asked.

"Kisi aur ke nikah me hokar tum kisi aur mard ke bare soch bhi kaise sakti ho? (Being married to someone else, how can you even think of another man?)" He roared, tightening his grip.

"Jab mera mard mere baare me nahi sochta, to mujhe pura haq hai kisi aur mard se shadi ka khayal rakhne me. (If my husband doesn’t think about me, I have full right to think about marrying another man.)" She shot back, her voice firm, though Arshad’s jaw clenched in anger.

"Ah… let go of me!" Isha hissed, feeling the pain of his tight grip. He released her arms.

"Aap… (You…)" Her eyes filled with tears as she found Arshad staring at her with both anger and disdain. "Aap… mujhe kisi aur ka hone dena nahi chahte aur apna banana nahi. Aap chahte kya hai?? (You… don’t want me to be anyone else, but you also don’t want to make me yours. What do you want?)" she demanded.

His eyes softened, his heart clenching at his own cowardice.

"Mai… mai… (I… I…)" He couldn’t speak, and that made Isha furious.

"Agar aap faisla le nahi sakte, to aapko mera faisla maanna hoga… (If you can’t make a decision, then you have to accept my decision.)" She stepped back. "Aaj raat tak aapne mujhe qubool nahi kiya, to kal ki subha hamare rishte ko dafan karke ayegi. (If you don’t accept me by tonight, tomorrow morning our relationship will be buried.)" She returned to wiping the counter, leaving him terrified and frozen in the kitchen.

Arshad stood there, eyes fixed on her back, before finally striding out in frustration.

---

Isha’s POV

After Namaz, I sat on my prayer mat, praying for myself and my marriage. What I said in the kitchen to Arshad—I meant every word. Tomorrow morning would mark the burial of our relationship, our nikah, our happiness, our love. If, even after the ultimatum, he couldn’t accept me, then there was no reason for me to stay. It would only make our lives harder.

No. I will not marry Amar. I could never think of anyone else. Arshad is not only my husband—he is the first man I have loved with everything I have. He is my only man.

I stood and placed my prayer mat away. I picked up his picture, caressing it with my fingers. "I love you, and I can wait for you all my life, but I can’t make your life difficult because of your confusion. If you love me, then accept me. If not… then let me go." A tear escaped, thinking about tomorrow.

This night will end soon, and so will our marriage—if he doesn’t accept me. There would be no other way to stay. If I did, he might suggest Amar, and I could never accept that.

Wiping my tears, I went to the cupboard and took out my suitcase, placing it on the bed to begin packing. Suddenly, a bang on the door startled me. I looked at the locked door.

Another bang, impatient this time. I closed the suitcase and walked toward the door. Before I could open it fully, Arshad barged in, slamming the door shut and pinning me against it.

"Mai bhale hi sirf tumhara nahi hun, par tum sirf meri ho. SIRF. MERI. Mrs. Isha Arshad Malik. (I may not only be yours, but you are mine. Only mine. Mrs. Isha Arshad Malik.)"

If I say I was shocked and speechless, it would be an understatement.

★★★★