Haris's POV -
Fajr azaan drifted through the Aziz residence like mercy itself-soft, steady, unavoidable.
I woke before the call ended.
Hazel was still in my arms. Mehndi darkened overnight, her dupatta half slipped, hair loose against the pillow. We were still in last night's clothes-untidy, human, real.
I didn't move.
I just watched.
Her stained fingers rested against my chest. I remembered her voice note from hours ago-thanking Allah for me, worrying about whether I had eaten, as if her own exhaustion didn't matter.
My throat tightened.
That's when I saw it.
A faint red mark along her arm.
My sherwani cuff.
I hadn't removed it before sleeping.
Guilt struck sharp.
She always called herself clumsy.
But this-
This was me.
I brushed my fingers gently near the mark, careful not to wake her.
Ya Allah... if I ever hurt her-let it be unknowingly. Never willingly.
She shifted.
I stilled.
The azaan ended.
I slipped from the bed quietly.
Hazel's POV -
The bed felt empty.
My heart skipped.
"Harii?" I whispered.
Then I saw him.
Standing near the window. Back straight. Hands folded. Head lowered.
The room felt calmer already.
I looked at my hands. The mehndi had darkened beautifully.
"I wrote your name nicely this time," I murmured to myself with a sleepy smile.
Then I checked the clock.
"Oh no-"
I rushed to make wudu, careful with my hands, wrapping my dupatta properly.
As I stood on the prayer mat, tiredness pressed against my bones.
But my heart felt clear.
Ya Allah... whatever test You place between us-keep our intentions clean.
Don't let silence become distance.
Something still ached inside me.
A question I wasn't ready to ask.
So I didn't.
I heard his footsteps return after Fajr.
I kept my eyes closed.
The mattress dipped softly as he lay beside me again. His arm moved instinctively, searching for my waist. Effortless. Familiar.
"Jaan..." he murmured near my ear. "Why are you upset?"
I turned slightly away and pouted, pulling the blanket higher over my face.
Silence
Then I felt him shift.
A pause.
His footsteps faded.
I almost opened my eyes.
Almost.
Ten minutes later, I sensed him again.
This time, he didn't lie down.
I blinked.
And froze.
He was standing beside the bed.
Holding a hamper bouquet... velvet boxes... something sparkling.
My brows narrowed. "What is this, Mr. Aziz?
He exhaled softly.
"I couldn't give you anything properly last night. It was late after mehndi. And I was looking for the right glass bangles for your shopping - you said you love them. Jhumkas too."
He stepped closer.
"But I added something else."
He opened the box.
Diamond bangles.
Simple. Elegant. Delicate.
"I know it's much," he said quietly, "but I imagined your wrist in these."
My mouth fell open.
This man.
"I also brought a diamond set for Ammi," he added. "And a pendant for Inaya. Wedding gift. From our side."
From our side.
My heart melted
I threw my arms around him tightly.
He laughed softly. "Still upset?"
I nodded in fake seriousness.
He cupped my face.
"You're my only person," he whispered. "Jaan-e-Hazel."
My breath caught.
"You know you're my purple person?"
I blinked. "Purple?
He smiled faintly.
"Red for your stubbornness. Blue for my peace. You're both."
My throat tightened.
"I don't know why you didn't come into my life earlier," he continued softly. "You made it... jaan. I love you so much."
Then he did something that made my heart tremble.
He knelt.
Took my hands.
Kissed them one by one.
Not hurried.
Not playful.
With aqeedat.
With reverence.
And for a second...
I forgot the question still sitting quietly between us.
Haris's POV -
When Two Nikkahs Found Their Ameen.......
By dhuhr, the house no longer felt quiet.
I adjusted my sherwani in the mirror, watching how quickly life had moved.
Ejza - three years younger.
Inaya - the youngest. My little princess.
And today, both were getting married.
By Allah's quiet decree.
Ejza to Zara - his long-hidden college crush.
Inaya to Kabir - her childhood love.
Alhamdulillah. The families were already aligned. I didn't need to interfere.
Allah had written it better than any of us could.
The door opened.
And my breath left me.
Hazel.
Golden sharara. Softly embroidered dupatta. Red glass bangles. Emerald earrings catching the light.
We were twinning in gold.
But she looked devastating.
"Allahumma barik," I whispered.
I took €1,000 from my wallet and walked toward her.
She was adjusting her dupatta.
Without a word, I tapped the money gently against her head and placed it on the table.
"Sadaqa," I murmured.
For protection.
For nazar.
For gratitude.
Then I kissed her forehead.
Her cheeks flushed.
Hazel's POV -
They forced me to the parlour despite my protests.
"It's your day," I told Zara and Inaya.
"You're only nine months married," they laughed. "Still new. No excuses."
When I returned, Haris was standing in the room.
We looked at each other.
Time paused.
I walked to him and hugged him gently.
"MashAllah," I whispered. "You look handsome."
His ears turned pink.
I kissed his cheek.
There was a knock.
He stepped back immediately.
I smiled. "Relax. They can survive a minute."
Then softly:
"Talk to me after nikkah and reception.
For now-calm down."
I looked into his eyes.
"I'm all yours, Janni."
Something flickered behind his gaze.
Something I couldn't name.
The hall smelled of roses and itr.
Silk brushed silk. Soft murmurs. Quiet duas.
I sat beside Zara and Inaya.
They looked beautiful. Nervous. Fragile.
I glanced up.
Haris stood slightly behind Ejza. Calm. Responsible. Composed.
Anyone else would think that's all it was.
But I knew better.
The Qazi's voice filled the room.
Verses of Qur'an steadied my heartbeat.
"Qubool hai."
Zara's voice broke.
Inaya cried openly when it was her turn.
Allahumma barik lahuma...
When both nikkahs were complete, relief moved through the hall like a quiet tide.
I felt Haris step closer before I saw him.
The noise dimmed.
He took my hand.
The red bangles chimed softly against the diamond bangles.
His thumb brushed my wrist.
He lowered his head.
A kiss.
Gentle. Firm. Steady.
"You were my bride once," he murmured.
"You're my bride forever."
I smiled faintly.
"Then don't ever make me feel otherwise."
He froze.
Just half a second.
Enough.
He bent and kissed my forehead.
"Ameen."
But inside him-
Ya Allah... protect her heart. Especially from me.
A loud cheer erupted.
"Photo! Photo!"
The hall rushed back in.
During the chaos of positioning and rearranging-
When someone tried to pull him for a sibling-only picture-
He simply said,
"She stays."
And I did.
After the photos, the noise thickened.
I hadn't eaten.
Haris noticed.
He returned with a plate.
"You didn't eat either," I whispered.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he lifted a small bite toward my lips.
"Everyone is watching," I murmured.
"Let them."
I took the bite.
That's when I saw it.
A faint shine in his eyes.
Not sadness.
Not quite.
Just... weight.
"If I ever lie," he said softly, "it would only be to protect you, jaan."
I laughed lightly.
"Then I'll forgive you."
He smiled.
But something in that smile didn't reach his eyes.
The noise blurred around us.
We found two empty chairs near the corner of the stage.
I leaned into him instinctively.
He adjusted without thinking, lowering himself so my head fit perfectly against his shoulder.
Our fingers intertwined.
His thumb traced the curve of my red bangles, making them chime softly.
"Don't move," I murmured.
He didn't.
Inside, something tightened in his chest.
Memorize this, he told himself. Just in case.
My breathing steadied.
The hall roared with celebration.
But he had never felt more afraid of losing something.
And I had never felt more certain I belonged.
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