Chapter 1: Qubool Hai

The room was silent except for the rhythmic chanting of prayers and the voice of the Qazi. Golden lights shimmered across the marble floor of the grand nikaah hall. Poornima Khan sat gracefully, her face hidden beneath a delicate veil, hands trembling, unaware of the storm waiting to unfold. She was told it was a noble proposal — a groom chosen by her parents. That’s all she knew. No name, no face.

Opposite her sat Veeresh Mohammad — tall, sharp-featured, composed — his heart thundering under his sherwani, but his face calm like a sea before a storm.

The Qazi's voice echoed:

“Poornima Khan, kya aapko Veeresh Mohammad se nikaah qubool hai?”

She hesitated for a breathless moment, her lips parted nervously. She didn’t know who this man was.

But then came her mother's subtle nod. And the weight of expectations pressed down.

“…Qubool hai,” Poornima whispered.

The words rippled like lightning.

The Qazi turned to Veeresh.

“Veeresh Mohammad, kya aapko Poornima Khan se nikaah qubool hai?”

Without a pause, without a blink, his deep voice responded, “Qubool hai.”

Three times it was said. Three times sealed. The documents were brought forward. Both signed — her hand shaking, his firm.

Still, the veil stayed in place. Still, her heart beat with questions.

And then… the moment.

Veeresh leaned forward and gently lifted the veil, his eyes meeting hers for the first time.

She gasped. “Veeresh?”

He smiled, tender and mischievous, and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

“Welcome, Mrs. Mohammad,” he whispered.

Her eyes widened in shock. “You? You were the groom?”

Veeresh pulled her close, took her by the wrist and led her toward the mirror placed at the center of the decorated hall. They stood in front of it — bride and groom, husband and wife — two hearts bound by fate.

From his pocket, he brought out two rings. Slipped hers onto her finger. She, still dazed, let him do so. He offered his hand. She slid the ring on slowly, eyes still locked on his.

And then… he pulled out a black thread, the tabeez, sacred and simple. He tied it around her neck — not just a symbol of faith, but of protection… of belonging.

Her eyes glistened. She didn’t know what to say.

He held her gaze.

And the lights dimmed.

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