Just
after his thirty-sixth birthday, Zaheer suffered a heart attack—a grim echo of
the early deaths that had claimed the men in his family before him. Fearing he
might not live long, he made one final wish: to see his son, Fakhir, married.
The only girl he could imagine as his daughter-in-law was Ainni, his brother
Habib's daughter. Though neither Fakhir nor Ainni had expressed any desire for
this union, the elders moved quickly. Habib, constrained by his lower standing
in the family, agreed without hesitation. His life and dignity had long
depended on Zaheer's favor.
As
children—Ainni, Fakhir, and Fahmi, Ainni's little sister—they had been raised
more like siblings than cousins, connected by love rather than titles. They
laughed, studied, and shared their lives under one roof.
Ainni
Habib was fifteen. Sharp, focused, and always at the top of her class, she was
ambitious and determined to achieve her dreams. Raised by her single mother,
Ayesha, with her father absent after starting a new family elsewhere, Ainni had
grown independent and self-reliant. Beautiful and graceful, she naturally drew
attention, and almost half the boys at school were completely smitten by her,
though she rarely noticed.
Fakhir
Zaheer Shah, seventeen, was popular among his peers for his charm and wit.
Unlike Ainni, he was not particularly smart or focused on academics. Tall and
athletic, he had already brought recognition to his school with multiple
accolades in basketball and tennis. Teachers and coaches saw a bright future
ahead for him, but his sports achievements cleverly masked his academic
shortcomings at school —much to the dismay of his father, Zaheer.
As
they grew older, small tensions began to emerge between Fakhir and Ainni..
Fakhir, once cheerful and carefree, started to feel a quiet jealousy. He
noticed how much his father loved and praised Ainni, supporting her in ways he
didn't. Though loved, Fakhir struggled with his studies and often fell short of
the expectations of the Shah family name.
Fahmi
remained the sweet little sister Fakhir had never had—gentle, affectionate, and
easy to be around. But with Ainni, things began to shift in ways he couldn't
understand. He wasn't sure when the discomfort began—perhaps when Ainni started
to grow into a young woman.
That
was when Daadi Zaina, ever watchful, gave Fakhir a strict warning to maintain
distance. To him, it felt unfair—he hadn't done anything wrong. Ainni's body
was changing as she came of age, but suddenly the rules seemed to apply only to
him. Ainni, now officially recognized as a "grown girl," had begun to
act the part—more confident, more commanding. She treated Fakhir less like a
peer and more like someone beneath her, correcting him, bossing him around, and
keeping a distance that hadn't existed before.
To
Ainni, Fakhir is only Immature , Stupid somewhat foolish.
Fakhir
found it maddening. It wasn't just Ainni's new attitude—it was also the fact
that he was losing a confidant. Not exactly a companion, but someone who had
always been there. The only person, after his mother, who truly seemed to see
him, someone who could guide him through... well, everything. Whenever mischief
crept into his actions, she never hesitated to call him out—usually straight to
Sameena—and always threatened to report him to Zaheer. Though in truth, she
rarely did.
Ainni,
who had always admired Sameena and Zaheer as role models, found the idea of
marrying Fakhir—her childhood companion—strange and distant. Fakhir, meanwhile,
was deeply confused. He loved Amna, his long-time school friend, while Ainni
was his cousin with whom he had grown up. Amna had already told him that she
wasn't against him, As she loved him deeply , but at their age, she wasn't
ready to get married to help him fulfil his father's wish.
Yet
with Zaheer's health failing and the entire family rallying behind his wish,
the marriage of Fakhir and Ainni went ahead—not born of love, but out of duty,
tradition, and the quiet hope that, in time, love might follow.
The
Shah family hailed from the mountain regions, where the government allowed
certain territories cultural and economic autonomy. Traditional customs held
sway, and families exercised special rights in marriage and family law that the
rest of the nation did not recognize. Under this privilege, the children were
married: Fakhir, seventeen, and Ainni, fifteen—a technically child marriage,
but permitted under the territorial law.
And
so, the inevitable union was set into motion—a match long whispered about among
the elders, now executed slightly earlier than expected. Relatives were
informed, the wedding date fixed, and families began to arrive. The Shah
household, once quiet, was again filled with joy, laughter, and bustle.
Though
Zaheer's declining health still weighed heavily on everyone's minds, the
happiness surrounding the upcoming wedding breathed new life into the home. For
a brief moment, the weight of grief and history seemed to lift. As preparations
progressed and the house filled with celebration, Zaheer himself appeared more
animated and present, hope flickering once again in the hearts of those who
loved him.
Fakhir
and Ainni, around whom the union revolved, were included in every detail: the
color of the wedding attire, the sparkle of the jewelry, the guest list, and
even the flavor of desserts. Yet in all the noise and planning, no one asked
the most important question—their consent. In the eyes of the elders, they were
still children, yet they were being bound to a lifetime neither had chosen.
Ainni
still couldn't fully grasp that the wedding was actually going to happen. She
wasn't terrified—but neither was she calm. To her, it felt less like a
life-changing event and more like being enrolled in another course she hadn't
signed up for—like the stitching or baking classes the elders had once forced
on her. Back then, she had protested, fought, sometimes wriggled free, and at
other times quietly endured.
Now
it was the same house, the same beloved people—Sameena and Zaheer, whom she
deeply respected. Nothing felt wildly different. Nothing except one thing:
Fakhir. The idea of him becoming her husband was unbearable. He had always been
a constant presence—her cousin, the childhood irritant who had bossed her
around under the flimsy excuse of "elder brotherly concern." Now, the
thought of being his wife felt impossible.
The
elders watched her struggle, but to them, it looked like harmless protest—a
kitten pacing, meowing, clawing at the inevitable, too tender-hearted to cause
real disruption.
And
so they stepped into a life arranged for them by fate and duty. Two young
hearts, bound not by passion but by legacy, now had to navigate a future no one
could fully predict. As they walked this path together, only time would reveal
whether love, patient and quiet, could find its way into their intertwined
lives.
PS
: This story is set in a fictional third-world country, Not India Not Pakistan
,Or it can be Any . I'm exercising my writer's privilege here..
