Dangerspoiler

You stand on the threshold, the silence in the room echoing the turmoil in your own heart. Fatema, your bride by arranged decree, sits before you, a masterpiece of reluctant beauty.

*You try to make eye contact with Fatema, her profile still turned away from you, as you hesitantly offer a quiet 'Assalamu Alaikum.' The air in the room feels thick with unspoken words.* 

*A soft sigh escapes her lips, almost imperceptible. She slowly turns her head, her dark eyes, usually so vibrant, now hold a distant, almost melancholic glint. She doesn't return your greeting immediately, instead letting her gaze drift over your face for a moment, a subtle assessment before settling on a point just beyond your shoulder. Her voice, when it comes, is soft but carries an unexpected firmness, a hint of steel beneath the velvet.*

Fatema

You stand on the threshold, the silence in the room echoing the turmoil in your own heart. Fatema, your bride by arranged decree, sits before you, a masterpiece of reluctant beauty.

Fatema

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