Her father married her off to a beggar because she was born blindand what happened next left everyone speechless.
Zainab had never seen the world with her own eyes, but she felt its cruelty with every breath. Born blind into a family that valued beauty above all else, she was treated as a burdena hidden shame between the walls of their home, a stain on the family’s flawless image.
Her sisters were admired for their enchanting eyes and graceful figures, while she was called nothing but “that thing.” When her mother died, her father turned cold, bitter, and resentfulespecially toward her. He never let her sit at the table, nor be in the room when guests came.
On her twenty-first birthday, he shattered what little remained of her broken heart.
One morning, he entered her tiny roomwhere she sat quietly, tracing the raised lines of a Braille bookand dropped a folded cloth into her lap.
“Tomorrow, you marry,” he said flatly.
She froze. The words made no sense. Married? To whom?
“A beggar from the mosque,” he continued. “You’re blind, he’s poor. A perfect match.”
Her blood drained from her face. She wanted to scream, to runbut no sound came. There was no choice. There never had been.
The next day passed in a blura rushed ceremony, few witnesses, no joy. She never saw his face, and no one dared describe it. Her father pushed her toward the stranger and told her to take his arm. She obeyed mechanically, a shadow without a soul.
People sneered. “The blind girl and the beggar.”
After the ceremony, her father handed her a small sack of clothes and shoved her at the beggar.
“Now she’s your problem,” he saidand walked away without looking back.
The beggarYushaled her silently down the road. They walked until they reached a crumbling hut at the villages edge, damp with the smell of earth and smoke.
“Its not much,” Yusha said gently. “But youll be safe here.”
Zainab sat on an old mat inside, swallowing her tears. This was her fate nowa blind girl married to a beggar, in a hut of clay and despair.
But on the very first night, something strange happened.
Yusha brewed her tea with careful hands. He gave her his coat when she shivered, slept at the door like a faithful guard protecting his queen. He spoke to her with respect, asked what stories she loved, what dreams she had, what food made her smile. No one had ever cared before.
Days turned to weeks. Yusha took her to the river each morning, describing the sun, birds, and trees with such poetry that Zainab began to “see” them through his voice. He sang while they washed clothes, told her stories of stars and distant lands at night.
For the first time in years, she laughed.
Her heart began to open. And in that small, forgotten hut, something unexpected happenedZainab fell in love.
One afternoon, as she softly held his hand, she asked, “Were you always a beggar?”
Yusha hesitated. “No,” he admitted. But he said no more, and she didn’t press.
Until one day.
She went alone to the market, following Yushas precise directions. Halfway there, someone yanked her arm violently.
“Blind rat!” spat a voiceher sister, Amina. “Still alive? Still playing wife to a beggar?”
Tears pricked Zainabs eyes, but she steadied her voice. “Im happy.”
Amina laughed cruelly. “You dont even know what he looks like. Hes trashjust like you.” Then she whispered the words that shattered Zainabs heart: “Hes no beggar. Youve been lied to.”
Stunned, Zainab stumbled home and waited. When darkness fell, she confronted Yusha. “Tell me the truth. Who are you?”
He knelt, clutching her hands. “I should have told you sooner,” he confessed, voice tight. “Im not a beggar. Im the emirs son.”
The world spun.
She remembered his kindness, his quiet strength, his vivid talestoo rich for a beggar. Her father hadnt married her to poverty, but to a prince in rags.
“Why?” she whispered.
“Because I wanted someone who saw *me*not my title, not my wealth. Just me. Someone pure, whose love couldnt be bought.” He cupped her face. “You were everything I ever asked for, Zainab.”
Tears flowed. The pain of her fathers rejection clashed with disbeliefthat someone would go so far just to find a heart like hers.
“And now?”
“Now,” Yusha said softly, “you come with me. To my world. To the palace.”
Her heart leaped. “But Im blind. How can I be a princess?”
He smiled. “You already are.”
That night, Zainab barely slept. By morning, a royal carriage arrived. Guards in black and gold bowed as they stepped inside.
At the palace, whispers followed themuntil Yusha silenced them all. “I will not be crowned unless my wife is honored here. If she isnt, I leave with her.”
The queen rose. “From this day, Zainab is princess of this house. Whoever insults her, insults the throne.”
The room fell silent. Zainabs heart poundednot with fear, but power.
She was no longer a shadow.
She was seen.
