Chapter 1
“Okay, I give up,” I said, rubbing my sore palm. I had lost—again. Arm wrestling Dua was a battle I never won. This had to be the hundredth time.
“So, these 3,000 bucks are officially mine,” she laughed. “Same time next month.”
“I’m never playing with you again,” I muttered.
“You don’t have a choice,” she teased. “Now I need to decide what to buy with this money.” Still laughing, she walked away.
She’s five years younger than me. When we lost our parents, she was only ten. From that moment on, I wasn’t just her sister anymore—I became her mother, her father, her safe place. After completing my 10th grade, I gave up my studies and took over my father’s restaurant. I had one promise to keep: Dua would never have to sacrifice her education. Today, she’s completed her MBA, and my heart swells with pride every time I think of it.
If someone calls me strong, it’s not because of my pain or hardships.
It’s because I had a reason to be strong.
That reason was my sister.
“Huda, is the restaurant closed today? I’m craving your fried rice,” my friend Shalin said as she walked in.
“When did you get here?” I asked, pulling her into a quick hug.
“Five minutes ago. I’ll be here for the next five days,” she smiled. Married three years ago and now pregnant, she’s my one and only friend in this world.
We talked for hours—about everything and nothing at all.
“What about your marriage?” she asked gently.
“After Dua,” I replied. “Everyone keeps asking, but not before her.”
“Huda, Dua is so lucky to have you as her sister,” Shalin said.
“No,” I smiled softly. “I’m the lucky one. When our parents left us so suddenly, she became my reason to survive. Financially, she depends on me—but emotionally, I depend on her to feel alive.”
Just then, Dua burst into the room.
“Huda! Huda! I want to get married tomorrow!”
[To be continued…]
“Okay, I give up,” I said, rubbing my aching palm. I had lost—again. Arm wrestling with my sister Dua was a mistake I had made countless times. This had to be the hundredth.
“So, these 3,000 bucks are officially mine,” she laughed. “We’ll repeat this next month.”
“I’m never playing with you again,” I muttered.
“You don’t get a choice,” she teased. “Now I’m thinking about what I should buy with this money.” With that, she walked away, still laughing.
She’s five years younger than me. When we lost our parents, she was just ten. From that day on, I became more than a sister—I became her mother, father, and everything in between. After my 10th grade, I gave up my studies and took charge of my father’s restaurant. But I promised myself one thing: Dua would never have to compromise on her education. Today, she’s completed her MBA, and I couldn’t be prouder.
“Is the restaurant closed today? I’m craving your fried rice,” my friend Shalin said as she walked in.
“When did you get here?” I asked, pulling her into a quick hug.
“Five minutes ago. I’ll be staying for the next five days,” she smiled. She got married three years ago and now she’s pregnant—my one and only friend in this world.
We talked for hours, about everything and nothing.
“What about your marriage?” she asked gently.
“After Dua,” I replied. “Everyone keeps asking, but not before her.”
“She’s so lucky to have you,” Shalin said.
“No,” I smiled softly. “I’m the lucky one. When our parents left us so suddenly, she became my reason to survive. Financially, she may depend on me—but emotionally, I depend on her to feel alive.”
Just then, Dua burst into the room.
“Huda! Huda! I want to get married tomorrow!”
If you want, I can:
- Make it shorter for a reel
- Turn it into a blog story
- Add a strong emotional ending
- Rewrite it in a more poetic / cinematic tone
“Okay, I lose” I said to my sister, Dua as I rubbed my palm in pain. I lost in arm rustling, this is not first time, maybe this is 100th time.
“So this 3000 bucks will go to my pocket, will repeat it next month,” she said with a laugh.
“I don’t want to play with you anymore,” I said.
“You don’t have a choice,” she said, “I’m think what I need to purchase with this money,” she teased and left the spot. She is 5 years younger to me. when we lost our parents, she was 10, since then, more than a sister, I have become her mom, dad and everything. After 10th I didn’t continue my studies, I took over my dad’s restaurant. But I made sure she gets the proper education. And she has already finished her MBA. So proud of her.
“Restaurant closed today? I want to eat your fried rice,” My friend, shalin came over and said.
“When did you come?” I asked her as I gave her a quick hug.
She said, “5 minutes ago, will be here for the next 5 days.” 3 years ago she got married, and now she is pregnant. My one and only friend in this world.
We spoke for hours.
“What about your marriage?” she asked.
“After Dua,” I said, “everyone is asking, but not before her.”
“She is so lucky to have you in her life,” she said.
“No, no, I’m very lucky to have her in my life, when parents left suddenly, she has been my reason to survive. Financially she is dependent on me, but I’m too dependent on her to feel alive.”
“Huda, Huda, I want to get married tomorrow.” Dua entered the room saything this.
Chapter 2
“Huda, Huda, I want to get married—tomorrow!” Dua shouted as she burst through the door.
Shalin and I stared at her, stunned.
“You know anyone who agrees to marry the very next day?” she asked Shalin seriously.
“Yes,” Shalin replied with a straight face. “In K-dramas. They do next-day weddings all the time.”
Dua turned to me, looking hopeful, as if I might actually know someone.
“Did you break up with your boyfriend?” I asked gently.
She had been in love with him for four years. His family lived in Dubai, and everything about their relationship had always seemed serious.
“He broke his promise,” she said quietly.
“What promise?” I asked.
“He promised he’d settle in India for me. I don’t want to leave this place. But now he says he has no such plans.” She took a breath and added, “So I’ve decided—I’ll marry someone from here. As soon as possible.”
“She finished her exams yesterday,” I said to Shalin, laughing. “Too much studying has clearly disturbed her brain.”
We both laughed, but Dua remained completely serious.
In my family, we all have a quick temper—it feels like anger runs in our blood.
When emotions rise, we often make rushed, heated decisions, and I’ve regretted many of them.
That’s why I’m more careful now.
But Dua is the complete opposite of me now.
When she’s angry, her thinking brain completely switches off.
“Why don’t you want to go?” Shalin asked softly.
“I want to stay with my sister… and work on our restaurant,” she said.
The thought of her leaving our hometown—leaving the country—felt impossible to me.
“But I can’t forget him either,” she whispered, tears welling up. “I want both—my sister and him.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I said, pulling her close, trying to calm her.
Just then, a man’s voice cut through the room.
“Why is the door open? A thief could walk in.”
He stepped inside without waiting for an answer.
It was Ehan—her boyfriend from Dubai.
Chapter 3
“Hello, Dua,” Ehan said, winking.
Dua froze for a second—and then her eyes lit up. The girl who had just declared she was done with him was suddenly gone. All that remained was love, bright and unmistakable.
She ran straight into his arms and hugged him tightly.
“Just a minute ago, she wanted to eat you alive,” I teased Dua. “Look at her now—she’s forgotten everything.”
“She wanted us to find her a groom for her,” Shalin added. “She said she was ready to get married the very next day.”
Dua covered her face with both hands, embarrassed.
“Did you really say that?” Ehan asked, amused.
She smiled shyly. The embarrassment was written all over her face. I wished I could freeze that moment—it came once in a blue moon.
“So… would you actually marry someone else?” he continued, pretending to be serious. “I thought our relationship mattered to you.”
“Stop it,” she protested. “I said that in the heat of the moment.”
He laughed. We all did.
Then his tone softened.
“My uncle is planning to open a branch in India,” Ehan said. “When I told him I want to settle there, he said I could manage it. That’s why he’s here with me.”
Dua looked at him, hopeful. “So… you’re okay with settling in India?”
In that moment, everything became clear.
He looked at her—steady, unblinking—and said softly,
“I’m not okay with it,” he said honestly. Then he smiled at her. “But for you, I am.”
If someone can say this and truly mean it,
that love is deep, pure, certain, and real.
My heart felt light. The happiness in Dua’s eyes said everything.
“Let’s celebrate,” I said, standing up. “I’ll make biryani for lunch.”
“I’ll call my uncle in,” Ehan said. He went to the door and gestured toward the car.
The moment I saw his uncle, something inside me shifted.
“You can go,” I said calmly, stepping forward. “This marriage isn’t happening.”
Before anyone could react, I stopped them at the door—and shut it firmly in their faces.
Chapter 4
A week had passed.
Once, Dua had asked me for the reason. I still remember the words I threw at her without mercy:
“You will never get my permission for this marriage. After that, it’s your wish.”
She never asked again.
Since then, we barely spoke.
A heavy silence settled into the house—one that echoed even when nothing was said.
That night, I was at the restaurant, checking expenses. Everyone had gone home. It was already 11 p.m.
There was a knock.
It was Ehan.
“I’m flying back tomorrow morning,” he said as he walked in.
I said nothing.
“After that day, Dua hasn’t spoken to me,” he continued. “She said if her sister doesn’t give permission, she doesn’t want this relationship. And I know this— even if I wait a hundred years, she won’t come to me until you say yes. For her, you come first.”
I remained silent.
“I came to India to settle here,” he said, his voice growing heavier. “But if she doesn’t want me here, what’s the point of staying? Still… before I leave, I need to know the reason. I think I deserve that. Three years of love doesn’t deserve silence.”
His voice trembled. When I looked up, his eyes were wet.
“Please,” he added softly. “I can’t focus on anything until I know. I won’t leave this restaurant until you tell me the reason. At least that much… I deserve.”
He pulled out a chair and sat down.
He did deserve to know.
But I couldn’t tell him.
I said nothing.
An hour passed.
He didn’t move.
“It’s closing time,” I finally said.
He looked at me and smiled—a smile that clearly said closing time didn’t matter.
Another hour passed.
“You can go home and sleep,” he said calmly. “I’ll stay here until you tell me.”
I called the security.
“I’m leaving,” I said. “Make arrangements. He’ll be staying here tonight.”
And I walked out.
The next morning, he was still there.
Idli for breakfast.
Biryani for lunch.
Days passed.
He didn’t go anywhere.
He ate, slept, bathed—everything inside the restaurant.
Every time our eyes met, he would silently mouth one word:
“Reason.”
I could feel his pain.
The truth will wound him—but silence would wound him deeper.
He deserves the truth.
Five days went by like this.
Same routine. Same silence.
Finally, I said,
“Okay. I’ll tell you the reason.”
Chapter 5
I looked at Ehan and said,
“Today, I’ll tell you the truth.”
I had asked Dua to be here too. She deserved the answer as much as he did.
After this, the choice would be theirs.
When Dua arrived, I saw it—the way they looked at each other. Lost. Helpless.
And somewhere deep inside me, guilt quietly surfaced.
I took a slow breath and began.
“Two months ago, I was watching TV with Mom’s family—my aunt, grandfather, uncle… everyone. A man appeared on the screen. A news segment about him receiving a Best Businessman award.”
I paused.
“My aunt gave a bitter laugh and said,
‘He should win the Devil of the Planet award instead.’”
I asked her if she knew him.
“She looked at me and said,
‘He was your mother’s first husband.’”
The room had fallen silent back then—just like this one.
“She told me your mother was only eighteen when she was married off. That he tortured her. Physically. Brutally. Some things were too painful to even say aloud.”
I looked at their faces—the same heavy silence returning.
“Then my grandfather spoke,” I continued.
“At that time, divorce didn’t exist in our family. It wasn’t even an option. But we knew one thing—if your mother stayed with him, she wouldn’t survive.”
His jaw had been clenched as he said it.
“So the first divorce happened in our family. And that day, my grandfather made a vow—no one from our family, or even our neighborhood, would ever marry into that man’s family again.”
The anger that day was raw. Undeniable.
I met Ehan’s eyes.
“Even I felt it. The anger. The hatred. Just seeing him on the screen.”
Then I said the words that changed everything.
“That man… is your uncle.”
They both stood up, stunned.
I turned to Dua.
“When we lost our parents, I was fifteen. You were ten. Mom’s family became our shield. They protected us. They still do.”
My voice softened, but the truth did not.
“When our grandfather won’t allow even distant relatives to marry into that family… how do you think he would allow his own granddaughter to marry that man’s nephew?”
I swallowed.
“He destroyed our mother’s life. Those scars never faded. They live in this family. In our memories. And after knowing this, they live in me too.”
I looked at both of them.
“And now… they live in you. You won’t even be able to sit at the same table with that man—because he tortured our mother. Our mother.”
Silence.
“Now you know everything.”
I stepped back.
“The rest… is for the two of you to decide.”
One thing was clear in our lives—some boundaries are not about control, they are about survival. What looks like refusal often comes from old pain. Our family didn’t say no to hurt us; they said no because they never wanted us to go through the pain they once survived.
Chapter 6
Ehan and Dua spoke for a long while.
The conversation was deep—heavy with truths.
By the time they finished, both had tears in their eyes.
Then they came to me.
Ehan spoke first.
“The uncle you hate the most,” he said softly, “is the uncle we love the most. What he has done for us… I don’t think many uncles would.”
He paused, gathering himself.
“When he got married, he was a drug addict. His parents believed marriage would change him. That’s why they married him off.”
He stopped for a moment.
“After the divorce, he went to rehab for almost a year. He struggled every day to come out of addiction. He never married again. He’s my mother’s only brother, and he has lived with us ever since—as one of us.”
His voice trembled.
“If I talk about my childhood, he’s in almost every good memory. That’s his place in our family.”
Then he looked at me.
“Now I understand your reason. It’s valid. This marriage can’t happen. The man who is a devil in your eyes… is an angel in ours.”
He took a breath.
“So we’ve decided to go our separate ways.”
Dua added quietly,
“Our love is strong. But marriage is a lifetime commitment. And the people around us matter too.”
Ehan said goodbye and walked out of the restaurant.
I watched him leave.
Tears slipped from Dua’s eyes.
I pulled her close, and she rested her head on my shoulder.
“It’s okay,” I whispered.
She looked at me through her tears and asked,
“When God already knew this story had no happy ending, why did He make us meet… talk… fall in love?”
I sighed softly.
“We enjoy drama when we watch movies, don’t we? Maybe God does too. Life can be painfully dramatic sometimes. All we can do is tell ourselves—it’s okay, it will pass.”
I had told myself those same words when we lost our parents.
It’s okay. It will pass.
I had known Ehan for three years.
That night, I lost him too.
I was sure he would become part of our family.
But destiny had other plans.
As I held Dua, I whispered to myself once more:
It’s okay. It will pass. 💔
[The End]