Chapter1
776 Words
The house was quiet when they returned. Her sisters had gone home. Her father was still at the base. Only her mother’s soft footsteps echoed between the living room and the kitchen, humming an old folk tune as she stirred the evening stew.
Alia sat at the edge of her bed, her fingers curled around her phone, staring at the screen like it held a secret she hadn’t unlocked yet.
Her wedding dress hung untouched in its designer bag across the room—ivory, delicate, and shimmering under the faint light. Waiting. Hoping.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat there before the phone lit up again.
Khalid Calling...
Her heart faltered. The air felt heavier. She answered on the second ring.
She didn’t say a word.
There was a pause. Long. Awkward. Dangerous.
“Alia…”
His voice. Low. Soft. Tense.
“I got your message,” she whispered, her throat dry. “What’s wrong?”
He took a breath. A deep, trembling breath.
“I’ve been thinking. A lot. And... I don’t know how to say this without sounding like the worst person alive.”
Alia’s spine stiffened. “Khalid—”
“I’m sorry,” he cut her off. “I should’ve told you sooner. I hate that it’s coming now. But I can’t do this anymore. I don’t think I can go through with the wedding.”
The world tilted.
“What?” Her voice cracked. “Khalid… what are you saying?”
“I’ve been going back and forth in my head, trying to silence the doubts. But they keep coming back. I don’t think I’m strong enough for this. For us.”
Her heart plummeted. “What do you mean strong enough?”
“I’ve been listening… to my family, my friends. They all say love isn't enough. That marriage is hard without complications. And you—”
Her breath hitched. “Say it.”
He hesitated. Then:
“You’re sick, Alia.”
Each word landed like a hammer blow.
“And it’s not going away,” he continued. “Sickle cell isn’t something I can cure with love or prayers.”
Her grip tightened on the bedsheet. “It’s not a curse, Khalid. I’ve lived with it all my life. You knew from day one.”
“I did. And I loved you in spite of it. I still do… but I’m scared. What if I can’t handle the crises? The hospital visits? The fear of losing you randomly? What if you can’t carry children—”
She gasped, as if slapped. “Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t go there.”
“I’m being honest,” he said. “The closer we get, the more I panic. What kind of husband would I be, living in fear every day? I don’t want to resent you. Or worse… leave after the vows. I’d rather walk away now than ruin you later.”
Alia shook her head. “No. No, Khalid. You encouraged me. You asked for this. You said you were ready. You begged me to believe in love when I had every reason not to. And now—two days before the wedding—you’re walking away?”
“I’m sorry,” he said again, voice cracking.
“My dress is here,” she said, trembling. “My mum’s making food for your family. The cards are out. The hall is booked. You can’t do this. Not now.”
“I wish I could be the man you deserve. But I can’t.”
“But this isn’t honesty. This is cowardice.”
He went silent.
And then came the final blow—soft and lethal.
“I just can’t, Alia.”
The line went dead.
She stared at her phone in disbelief. His name was still glowing on the screen like a ghost.
Then the phone slipped from her hand and thudded to the floor.
Her body followed.
She dropped to her knees, clutching her stomach like she could hold the pieces of herself together. Her sobs broke loose—raw, aching cries that clawed at the silence.
“Alia!” Her mother’s voice rang from down the hall.
Seconds later, her mother burst in and rushed to her side, pulling her into her arms. “What is it? What happened? Talk to me!”
But Alia couldn’t find the words. They’d drowned in pain.
The wedding dress in the corner hung lifeless. The scent of stew wafted from the kitchen.
But nothing mattered anymore.
Because with four words, Khalid di
dn’t just break the wedding.
He broke her.
And the worst part?
This was only the beginning…
- Writer
