AUTHOR'S POV

Zeeshan, her brother, who had just returned from a work trip, stared at his house with confusion written all over his face. He was supposed to return after two more days but since his work was done, he just came back earlier-because he got a gift for Zahara, his little sister.

But rather he was surprised after seeing the way the house was decorated. As though it was some occasion. Was he forgetting anything? He wondered.

Stepping inside further, his eyes caught the sight of one of the old acquaintances as he called out. "Evening, Uncle. Is there some festival that I am not aware about?" The man standing across him chuckled as he stared at him in disbelief. "Tumhari behen ki shaadi hai aur tumhe hi nahi pata?"

(It's your own sister's wedding and you don't know?)

He stood there, frozen on his spot as the man's words echoed back and forth in his ears like that of a pendulum. Zahara's wedding?

He could barely comprehend the words thrown his way when that man patted himon his shoulder and added. "It's alright. You must have been so busy that it slipped from your mind."

Passing him a small smile as if his words did not knock the air out of Zeeshan's lungs already, the man went away while he was left there, all dumbfounded.

It all made sense to him now. Iqbal's constantly asking him when he'd be returning. Neglecting or ignoring every time he asked him to let me have a word with Zahara.

How could he? Zeeshan was out for barely a week and he......His mind buzzing and connecting all the dots as he straightaway ran inside.

"Abba? Where are you?" He called out, his ears buzzed with the intensity of his own blood roaring through his veins as he stomped towards the direction of his father's room. He must be halfway through the corridor when he emerged while talking on his phone, blessing Zeeshan's eyes with his divine presence.

"Aree Zeeshan bete? Aap kab aaye?" Disconnecting the call, he inquired as his lips curved up into that infamously fake smile of his that only made Zeeshan's blood boil higher. (Oh Zeeshan dear, When did you return?)

Taking in a quiet breath, he tried to will himself to maintain he composure and asked, his voice low and gravelly to his own ears. "What is happening?" The smile vanished from his lips like it never existed as he replied. "So you know. It's better actually. You should get ready as well."

The way his voice held no remorse made Zeeshan's heart clench and he couldn't help but raise his voice. "HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO HER DESPITE KNOWING EVERYTHING?"

He fisted his hands, breaths growing harsher with every passing moment while he simply looked at him with no expression on his face.

"Zahara is getting married and that's the truth. Sooner you accept is better." Iqbal declared prior to leaving from there while he hurled his fist at the nearest wall.

No. He couldn't let that happen. He'd to do something. Running a hand through his already messed up hair, he rushed towards the direction to Zahara's room.

The sound of his footsteps echoed in the otherwise empty corridor as he called out for his sister. "Zahara? Where are you? Look your I'm here."

He called out, standing before her room as he knocked softly twice, his heart palpitating.

Zahara, who had been sitting in her room, jolted up at the sound of his voice. Her eyes filled with fresh tears as she ran towards the door and opened it. "Bhaijaan." She whispered; her eyes instantly scrutinizing his exhausted figure as she threw herself in his embrace.

His arms itself wrapped around her slightly trembling form while he leaned down and pressed a tender kiss against the crown of her head as she sighed at the comfort only her brother could provide.

"Yeah...." He whispered lowly while she closed her eyes and buried her face deeper into his chest. Her only safe place.

After a long moment, he slowly pulled back so as to not startle her. Only then did he look at her fully.

His little sister-who used to ask him for cotton candy every single time he picked her up from school, was adorned as a bride.

Not like she used to in the childhood- covering her head with their mother's dupatta and then pretending to cry dramatically as if its her Vidaai, making both him and their Amma laugh at her antics;

'You will cry too when I'll go away with my husband' She used to say while he'd just laugh more. And here she was, all dressed like a Real Bride. His heart ached as he looked at her.

He still remembered those days vividly, they felt like just yesterday when he used to lift her in his arms and twirl around whenever she got A grade in her exams and came to tell him all excitedly.

Then when did she grew up so much? His heart whispered as tears threatened to blur his vision. Had the situation been different, he might actually be happy. But how could he?

How could he when their own father-her own father was marrying her to the man almost twice her age just for some ages long debt?

How could he when all those jewelleries, that were supposed to adorn her beauty, seemed to hide the tears she was too afraid let fall?

How could he when the lehenga, that was supposed to make her stand out among everyone else in the pavilion, instead made her look as though it was weighing her down with every passing moment?

How could he when she deserved to be cherished but was being sold as though she was some materialistic thing and not his own first child than little sister?

The tears almost fell from his eyes, had he not brushed them away quickly.

Composing himself, he slowly cupped her face which made her eyes look up at him. Wiping a lone tear that managed to escape from her eyes, he asked. "It's him to whom they are marrying you, no?"

His comforting voice rang in her ears but it did little to sooth the storm raging inside her. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting away as she cleared her throat slightly.

"Bhaijaan.......When did you return hmm? You know I missed you." She mumbled, holding his hand with both of hers slowly, in spite of knowing that her attempt to divert the topic was futile.

A slow breath escaped his lips as his other hand came up to caress his head. "Just now." He answered, a small smile curving up on his lips as she continued. "I missed my chhoti si Zahara too."(my little Zahara)

She scrunched up her nose at the way he called her that as she removed her hold from his hand and looked up at him. "Hum ab chhote nahi hai! Don't call me that." She protested lightly while he just chuckled slightly and he poked her nose with his index finger, making her giggle as well.

(I'm not small anymore!)

"You know Zahara? I had been working hard all these months just so that I can earn enough money to take you away from here. Why did you agree to this marriage, hm? Just come with me okay? You don't have to go with this? Are they forcing you?" He said, trying to make her understand but her smile faded slightly.

Slowly removing his hand from her head, she averted her gaze away prior to murmuring. "It....It is Abba's decision. I can't deny....." Zeeshan let out a low sigh, already knowing that she wouldn't go against their father. She never does.

Taking a step back, he glanced at her one last time as he said. "It's alright. I'll find a way myself to get you out of this mess. No way in the hell I'd let that bastard even come near you." With that he went away from there, leaving her standing there with widened eyes.

***

Don't forget to follow me on Instagram for updates🌷