PROLOGUE

PROLOGUE

Some marriages begin with love.

Ours began with silence.

I never prayed for him, yet his name was written into my fate like a verse already decided. Aariz Khan—older, distant, unreadable. A man shaped by duty, not desire.

They called it arranged.

I felt it as jab takdeer faisla kar chuki ho.

Love was never promised to me before the nikah—only patience, sabr, and faith. I learned that some connections are not chosen by the heart, but entrusted to it. Like Sufi verses whispered in the dark, meant to be understood slowly.

I did not fall quickly.

I fell the way prayers are answered—quietly, over time.

Between shared silences, whispered duas, and nights heavy with unspoken words, my heart learned his language. And somewhere between khamoshi and yaqeen, love found its way in.

This is not a love story that began before marriage.

This is a story of ishq that found its home after it was bound.