She was the only sister among three brothers.

Two of them worked abroad.

Only her eldest brother, Ali, lived with her in Islamabad.

When she turned 20, Ali forced her into an engagement with his business partner, thinking only about profit and not his sister's happiness.

Haya never liked the man arrogant, careless, and dismissive.

Even during their engagement, he never treated her with respect.

On her Nikkah day, everything shattered.

The groom never arrived.

In front of hundreds of guests, family members, and businessmen, she sat alone on the stage.

Her kohl-lined eyes brimmed with tears.

Her dupatta was heavy with both embroidery and humiliation.

Among the guests was her brother’s friend and business associate, Osama Khan a composed, reserved, and sharp man.

When Haya’s brother begged Osama to save his sister from lifelong disgrace, he said yes without even seeing Haya.

“I have sisters too,” Osama simply said.

The Nikkah was done.

Haya Malik became Haya Khan.

As the rukhsati took place, she cried not because she was married, but because she was married to a complete stranger whose name she heard for the first time from the molvi sahib.

They sat in the backseat of the car, surrounded by other cars from the wedding procession.

Her eyes were swollen from crying, her body exhausted from days of emotional turmoil.

Yet, strangely, next to Osama, she felt more at peace than she ever did with her ex-fiancé.

She slowly leaned her head on his shoulder and drifted into sleep.

Osama looked down at her.

He wanted to move, to wake her up, but didn’t.

Something about her vulnerability made him still.

Two hours later, she stirred awake and immediately reached into her purse for her inhaler.

“For what?” he asked softly.

She looked down, afraid. “Asthma,” she whispered.

He nodded. “We’re almost there.”

Ten minutes later, the car stopped outside a grand, beautifully lit mansion.

Osama stepped out and held his hand out for her.

She hesitated but took it.

His family welcomed her with roses and warm smiles.

His sister hugged her tightly and whispered, “Welcome, bhabhi.”

(" welcome sister in-law)

Then, in front of everyone, his mother said with pride,

“Haya Malik nahi… ab se Haya Khan. Ab tumhare naam ke saath tumhare shohar ka naam jura hai.”

("Not Haya Malik anymore… from now on, it's Haya Khan. Now your husband's name is tied to yours.")

She froze at the word shohar.

("Husband")

She never heard it so seriously before…

until now.

The  Night

When she entered his room, she was stunned.

It was huge, much larger than her entire apartment.

She quietly sat in a corner of the bed.

After 20 minutes, she heard laughter and noise outside.

His sisters were teasing Osama and asking for money to let him enter, as tradition demanded. She smiled faintly.

Suddenly, the door opened and Osama walked in.

Startled, she fell from the bed.

“Ouch…”

He walked straight toward her and helped her up, placing her gently on the bed.

Then, he knelt down and removed her heels.

“Thak gayi ho?” he asked.

("You’re tired")

She nodded, whispering, “Mera suitcase… kapray lene thay.”

("My suitcase… I needed to take my clothes.")

Just then, the helper knocked and placed her suitcase and a tray of refreshments on the table.

Osama headed to the washroom.

She grabbed her night suit and stood in front of the bathroom door, waiting.

As soon as he opened the door, she jumped in shock, almost bumping into him.

“Aap hamesha aise kaam karti hain, ya sirf aaj?” he asked with a teasing smirk.

("Is this how you always behave, or is it just for today?")

“Mene kya kiya?” she asked, confused.

("What i did?")

He opened his mouth to reply, but she shut the door quickly.

When she came out ten minutes later, he was lying on the bed with his back turned to her. She quietly placed her clothes on the vanity, grabbed a pillow, and sat on the sofa.

“Wahan kyun baithi ho?” he said without turning.

("Why your sitting there?")

“Idhar aajao, main tumhe kaatunga nahi.”

("Came here,I will not bite you")

“Nahi, main theek hoon. You’re uncomfortable.”

("No,i'm good")

“Aap yahan aayengi ya main le aaoon?” he said, now looking directly at her.

("Will you come here, or should I bring it to you?").

Silently, she stood, picked up the pillow, and lay down on the edge of the bed. Osama placed a pillow between them without saying anything.

She was so tired, she fell asleep instantly.