Fiza, with tears streaming down her face, turned away from her father and sister, her heart heavy with pain. She nestled herself in her mother's comforting embrace, finding solace in the warmth of her lap as her mother lovingly ran her fingers through her hair.

"Mamma, he never raped me. That's just Farzana exaggerating. There were just times he lost his control but he always stopped when I asked him to." Fiza tried to explain between sobs. "If I can't be with Alan, I don't want to be with anyone."

"Fiza," her mother whispered softly, her voice tinged with sorrow, "it's going to be alright. Sometimes, love can be the very thing that keeps us trapped, even when it hurts. But remember, my dear, there are people who will help you find your way out of this darkness."

Fiza's voice trembled as she spoke through her tears, her mother's presence offering the only comfort in her chaotic world. "But he didn't hurt me, ma," she sobbed softly, conflicted by her own emotions.

Memories flooded her mind, flashes of Alan's excessive force, him entering her without her consent, the pain etched into her heart. Yet, she clung to the belief that his action were never intentionally malicious.

He had explained it to her. He had told her recently that when he had been with Aarthy where they would punish each other sexually by being rough. "Hate sex" he called it. That night at Agumbe, he had been confused and in turmoil. He had apologized to her profusely, and begged for forgiveness.

He was changing, working on himself, and his love was a beacon of hope. He saw her, truly understood her, beyond the façade she presented to the world. He loved her unconditionally, without any expectations.

Fiza's struggle lay in reconciling the hurt with the love she desperately wanted to believe in.

Fiza's mother gazed deep into her daughter's eyes, her concern etched in every line of her face. "Fiza, you can always tell me the truth," she implored gently, her voice filled with both love and worry. "Has he ever hurt you physically?"

Fiza hesitated, grappling with her emotions. "He hasn't, mamma," she admitted, tears still lingering. "Sometimes, it's just... accidents, like when he holds me a bit too tight or pulls me too fast. And yesterday, I approached him for a hug, but he moved away, and I lost my balance and fell."

As Fiza explained, her mother's thoughts swirled with uncertainty. She saw Fiza as her own, no different from her biological daughter, Farzana. Yet, Fiza carried the legacy of another woman, her biological mother, who had been a beacon of happiness, intelligence, and compassion, just like her daughter. Both had chosen the path of pediatric medicine. It made her wonder if their suspicion of Alan was rooted in their own biases or if Fiza was indeed following a path she had never consciously chosen. The questions weighed heavy in her heart.

Her mother planted a tender kiss on Fiza's forehead, promising to address the issue with her father once emotions had settled. With that comforting reassurance, Fiza drifted into an uneasy sleep, her worries still lingering.

When she awoke, disoriented, she found herself alone in the guestroom, her head throbbing with pain. Gazing at her reflection in the mirror, she couldn't help but chuckle, despite the pain. Her right eye was nearly swollen shut, and she resembled a panda, just as Alan had teasingly commented once.

Fiza fumbled for her phone, realizing it was dead. Plugging it in, she discovered a barrage of missed calls from both Alan and his mother. The clock read 9:38 am, and her heart sank as she opened WhatsApp to find a series of messages from Alan.

"Fiza we need to talk. Are you avoiding me?"

"It's pretty bad here. Amma and Achan are against us being together after yesterday. Call me."

"Fiz, you promised me that you were mine. I'm waiting for you."

"I'm waiting for you at the TM grocery shop near your house."

"Fiz, come on!"

Fiza called Alan's number, her voice fragile as she explained, "Hey, my phone was dead. I just woke up. Are you still at the shop?"

"Yeah," he replied, concern in his voice.

"Heading over. I have to leave my phone for charging, so just stay on the bench till I get there," Fiza instructed before ending the call.

As she descended the stairs, she found her father engrossed in his newspaper. Her mother's eyes was filled with worry as she spoke, "Come have breakfast, dear. There's upma ready."

Fiza declined with a gentle shake of her head, her mind preoccupied. "I'm going for a walk. My phone's upstairs. I'll be back in a bit," she assured her mother before stepping out, leaving behind a room filled with unspoken emotions.

A warm smile spread across Fiza's face as she laid eyes on Alan. He met her with a half-smile of his own, rising from the bench.

"Let's go. We'll walk and talk," she suggested, her voice carrying a mix of relief and affection.

They strolled together, a quiet understanding enveloping them until they found themselves on a quieter road. Fiza guided him toward an area where new houses were under construction. Inside one of the unfinished buildings, she took Alan's hands into her own, her eyes searching his with a mix of vulnerability and determination.

"Promise me that no matter what happens, our love, our relationship, meant something. Promise me you won't go back to who you were before we met. Promise me you'll stay strong, be brave, and keep moving forward," she pleaded.

He replied, "There's no life for me without you, Fiza. There's nothing left ahead to move forward to. Run away with me."

Fiza's eyes were filled with a mixture of determination and apprehension as she laid out her reasoning. "Alan, I'm going to keep trying to convince my parents, and you need to do the same with yours. We can't just run away. We're both dependent right now, still in the middle of our courses. We need to stand on our own feet."

But Alan had a different plan in mind. He reached into his bag and pulled out a document-an application for marriage under the Special Marriage Act.

Fiza's eyes widened in surprise as she looked at him, her voice quivering, "Alan?"

He met her gaze with a simple, heartfelt statement, "You promised me you would marry me."

With trembling hands, Fiza signed the papers. The procedure was clear: they would submit the application online, an officer would issue a public notice, inviting objections. If there were no objections within 30 days, they could go to the marriage registration office with three witnesses and solemnize their marriage.

Alan carefully stowed the papers away in his backpack, a sense of determination and sincerity in his every move. He closed the distance between them, locking eyes with Fiza. "You are mine, Fiza. I'm your husband, and you are my wife. Say it."

Fiza, unwavering in her gaze, echoed his words with conviction, "You are my husband, and I am your wife."

Alan drew nearer, his voice filled with unwavering commitment. "I'll never marry anyone else. It's just you, Fiza. No one can take your place, no matter what," Alan told her as he came closer to her. He tilted her head up and kissed her on her lips.

Fiza moved her lips along his as she wrapped her hands around his neck.

Alan pushed her against the wall, kissing her fervently.

Fiza tilted her head and Alan peppered kisses down her neck and sucked at her skin over her collarbone. "Alan..." She said breathlessly. Her every cell felt his touches.

He pushed against her, obliterating any space between them.

She felt the excitement build up between her legs.

He unhooked her bra and pulled her T shirt up, taking her right breast in his hand and placing his mouth on the left.

Fiza shuddered at his touch, moaning his name over and over. "You are mine, Fiza," he declared, placing his hand on her ass and running his hand along the back of her thighs, lifting it up and wrapping it around himself. He opened his zip and pulled her pajama down.

"Are you my wife, Fiza?" He asked her.

"Yes," she whispered.

With an intense gaze her sought her consent again. "I'm going to go inside you, okay?" She nodded, her face flushed.

"Say, yes, Fiza," Alan growled.

"Yes." Fiza gasped.

Alan slid inside her, moving in her while he pinned her between the wall and himself. It was pain, pleasure and emotion that finally culminated with her quivering all over and slumping into him. Within a few seconds, Alan had come too. They stayed looking at each other, their breaths ragged. He pulled himself out and handed his spare T shirt from his backpack to Fiza to clean herself up.

Fiza's mind was spinning as she processed that they had had sex in such an unconventional setting. Her eyes darted around the empty construction site, her thoughts filled with a mix of fear and uncertainty.

Alan, however, found amusement in her dazed expression and let out a chuckle.

"I love you, Fiz. I'm going to marry you. I promise," he declared, his words filled with unwavering determination.

Fiza nodded, her heart finding solace in his reassurance.

He pulled her close for another lingering kiss, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away.

"We should get going," Fiza finally suggested, her heart still racing. Despite the challenges ahead, she felt a renewed sense of hope. They were in this together, ready to fight for their love and convince their families that their bond was worth waiting for.

Alan hopped into an auto, his thoughts a whirlwind, while Fiza returned to her home, an air of newfound happiness surrounding her.

"You were with that boy, weren't you?" Her father's voice erupted like a thunderclap as she stepped through the threshold. Her father rarely raised his voice at her; this moment felt like a first.

"His name is Alan, pappa," Fiza responded with unwavering clarity, her resolve evident. "And yes, I met with him. He is my boyfriend."

A storm of anger raged in her father's eyes as he bellowed, "You will never see him again!"

Fiza, her emotions aflame, shouted back, her defiance unyielding, "You can't force me not to see him."

Her father, fueled by determination, issued a chilling ultimatum, "If you want to complete your post-graduation, you are not going to see him again."

Tears welled up in Fiza's eyes as she pleaded, her voice trembling, "I've always listened to you. I followed the rules. I did everything I could to make you happy. But you want me to give up my career when I have just nine months to complete? Because I'm not giving up on Alan." Her heart ached at the conflict tearing her family apart.

In the charged silence that followed, her father's gaze bore into her, his voice now a gentle but disbelieving whisper, "You will give up on your dreams to be with him?"

Fiza nodded, her decision etched in her tear-filled eyes, as her father turned away, grappling with the gravity of her choice.

Fiza had taken ten days of her vacation to attend Shahana's wedding and to spend time with her family. But now she regretted it. The silent treatment from her father hurt her more than words could, and her sister Farzana had already returned to Chennai, leaving her feeling isolated. Only her mother seemed to offer any solace, advising her to be patient and not rush into any hasty decisions.

Every day, she found solace in her phone calls with Alan, who had returned to work and had limited time to spare.

On the day before her planned departure, the ground beneath her seemed to crumble. Her father entered her room, his voice strained. "Fiza, I know you're going to hate me now, but I can't allow what happened to Fiza Ammai to happen to you. Please understand that whatever I did, I did it to protect you."

Fiza's eyes widened in shock, her heart racing.

Just then, her phone buzzed with a message. "Get changed into something nice. Someone is here to see you," her father instructed before leaving the room.

Curiosity and apprehension mingled within her as she glanced at her phone, finding a message from Alan.

Fiza's eyes widened as she read Alan's message, the words sending a shockwave through her. "I promised your father that if you had a better chance of happiness without me or with someone else, I would let you go. Please don't try to contact me again. Goodbye, Fiza."

She read and reread the message in disbelief. She called Alan repeatedly, her heart pounding, questioning why he had changed his mind after declaring she was his forever.

Tears stung her eyes as she frantically attempted to reach out to him through various means, only to find herself blocked and disconnected. She even dialed Alan's mother's number, but she too had blocked her. Location sharing had been disabled and their shared Instagram account had been deactivated.

In a state of despair and confusion, she quickly threw on some clothes and rushed downstairs, where she was confronted by Faisal.

"Hi Fiza!" he greeted her with a disconcerting smile.

Her gaze shifted from Faisal to her father, her voice shaking as she demanded an explanation. "What's going on?"

"We conducted your marriage with Faisal yesterday evening," her father revealed solemnly.

"What?" Fiza exclaimed in shock.

Faisal swiftly grabbed his phone and played a video that unveiled the shocking truth.

In it, an Imam, her father, Faisal, and a few elders from her family sat together. The Imam asked her father if he gave her to Faisal, and he agreed. Then, the Imam asked Faisal if he accepted her as his wife, and he agreed as well. They shook hands and signed a paper, finalizing the marriage.

Fiza stood there, stunned and devastated, realizing that she had been married without her knowledge or consent.

[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]

**********************************************

In a Muslim marriage, the woman consents before the procedure begins. The actual marriage does not require the presence of the bride. It is an agreement between the bride's father and the groom.

My wedding was something like that too. It was consensual but I wasn't part of it.
Someone told me at the end of the ceremony that I was married. IMO, this needs major reform - it can be easily abused. This is not about my religion which I love, but the culture surrounding it.

Please no hate, just giving my opinion.

Please vote if you like this chapter. Would love to hear your thoughts.

❤️Faiza