Her father married her to a beggar because she was born blindwhat 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 prized beauty above all else, she was the unnoticed shadow among them.
Her sisters were admired for their enchanting eyes and graceful figures, while she was treated as a burdena hidden shame, a stain on the familys flawless reputation.
Her mother died when Zainab was just five. From then on, her father changed completely. He grew cold, bitter, and resentfulespecially toward her. He never called her by her name. To him, she was simply “that thing.”
He refused to let her sit at the table with the others or even stay in the room when guests visited. He believed she was cursed, a sign of misfortune, divine punishment.
On her 21st birthday, he made a decision that shattered what little remained of her broken heart.
One morning, he walked into her tiny roomwhere she sat quietly, tracing the raised letters of an old Braille bookand dropped a folded piece of fabric into her lap.
“You’re getting married tomorrow,” he said flatly, his voice devoid of emotion. Zainab froze. The words made no sense. Married? To whom?
“To a beggar from the mosque,” he continued. “You’re blind, he’s poor. A perfect match.” She felt the blood drain from her face.
She wanted to scream, to run, but no sound escaped her. She had no choice. She never had. Her father had never given her the right to choose for herself.
The next day passed in a blura rushed ceremony, few witnesses, no joy. Of course, she had never seen his face, and no one dared describe him to her.
Her father pushed her toward the unknown man and told her to take his arm. She did so mechanically, like a soulless shadow. People around them snickered, whispering in disdain, “The blind girl and the beggar.”
After the ceremony, her father handed her a small sack of clothes to the man.
“Now she’s your problem,” he said, then walked away without looking back.
The beggarhis name was Yushaled her silently through the streets. For a long time, he said nothing. They walked until they reached a small, crumbling hut at the edge of the village. It smelled of damp earth and smoke.
“It’s not much,” Yusha said gently. “But here, you’ll be safe.” Zainab sat on an old mat inside and tried to swallow her tears.
This was her fate nowa blind girl married to a beggar, living in a hut of clay and despair.
Yet something strange happened from the very first night.
Yusha brewed tea with careful hands. He gave her his coat so she wouldnt be cold and slept by the door like a loyal guard protecting his queen.
He spoke to her with kindness and respect. He asked what stories she loved, what dreams she had, what food made her smile. No one had ever asked her such things before.
Days turned to weeks. Yusha took her to the river each morning, describing the sun, the birds, the treeswith such poetic beauty in his words that Zainab began to “see” them through his voice.
He sang while they washed clothes. At night, he told her stories of stars and distant lands. For the first time in years, she laughed again.
Her heart began to open. And in that simple hut, something unexpected happenedZainab fell in love.
One afternoon, as she took his hand lightly, she asked, “Were you always a beggar?”
Yusha hesitated. Then he answered softly, “No. Not always.” But he said no more, and she didnt press him.
Until one day.
She went alone to the market to buy vegetables. Yusha had given her clear directions, and she memorized them perfectly. But halfway there, someone grabbed her arm roughly.
“Blind rat!” spat a scornful voice. It was her sister, Amina. “Still alive? Still playing the beggar’s wife?”
Tears rose, but Zainab fought them back. She lifted her head with dignity and replied calmly, “I am happy.”
Amina sneered. “You don’t even know what he looks like. He’s garbagejust like you.”
Then she whispered something that shattered Zainabs heart.
“He’s not a beggar. Zainab, youve been lied to.”
Confused and shaken, Zainab returned home, waiting until nightfall. When Yusha returned, she asked firmly, “Tell me the truth. Who are you?”
He knelt before her, took her hands, and confessed with a heavy heart, “I didnt want you to know yet. But I cant lie anymore.”
Her pulse raced.
He exhaled deeply.
“I’m not a beggar. I’m the emirs son.”
The world tilted beneath her. The words echoed in her mind”the emirs son.” She struggled to breathe, to understand.
Memories flashedhis kindness, his quiet strength, the vivid stories he told, too rich for a mere beggar. Now, she knew why.
He had never been a beggar. Her father hadnt married her to a beggarbut to a prince in rags.
Yusha pulled back, his voice shaking. “Why? Why let me think you were a beggar?”
He rose, his tone steady but filled with emotion. “Because I wanted someone to see menot my wealth, not my title, just me. Someone pure. Someone whose love wasn’t bought or forced. You were everything I ever asked for, Zainab.”
Her legs weakened. Her heart battled between joy and confusion. Why had he let her believe she was discarded like trash?
Yusha knelt beside her again. “I didnt mean to hurt you. I came disguised because I was tired of admirers who loved the throne, not the man. I heard of a blind girl cast aside by her father. I watched you for weeks before asking for your handas a beggar. I knew hed agree because he wanted rid of you.”
Tears streamed down her facepain from her fathers rejection mixing with disbelief that someone would go so far just to find a heart like hers.
“What happens now?” she whispered.
Yusha took her hand gently. “Now, you come with meinto my world, into the palace.”
Her heart leapt. “But Im blind. How can I be a princess?”
He smiled. “You already are, my princess.”
That night, Zainab barely slept, torn between her fathers cruelty, Yushas love, and the uncertainty of the future.
At dawn, a royal carriage arrived. Guards in black and gold bowed as Yusha led her in. The crowd gaspednot just at the return of their lost prince but at the blind girl beside him.
Yushas mother, the queen, studied Zainab closely. But Zainab bowed with respect. Yusha clasped her hand and declared, “This is my wife. The woman I chose. The one who saw my soul when no one else could.”
The queen paused, then embraced her. “Then she is my daughter.” Relief nearly made Zainab faint. Yusha squeezed her hand. “I told you you were safe.”
As they settled into the palace, Zainab stood by the window, listening to the sounds of royalty. Her entire life had changed in a day.
No longer was she “that thing” locked away. She was a wife, a princessa woman loved not for beauty, but for her soul.
Though darkness lingeredthe hate of her father, the whispers of the courtshe no longer felt small. She felt powerful.
The next morning, nobles gathered. Some mocked her, but she held her head high.
Then came the final twist. Yusha stepped forward. “I wont be crowned unless my wife is honored in this palace. If she isnt, Ill leave with her.”
Gasps filled the room. Her heart pounded. “Youd give up the throne for me?” she whispered.
His gaze burned. “I already have. Id do it again.”
The queen rose. “From today, Zainab is Princess Zainab of the royal house. Whoever insults her insults the crown.”
The room fell silent. Zainabs heart racednot with fear, but power.
She was no longer a shadow. She had found her place in the world. And for the first time, she didnt need to be seen for her beautyonly for the love in her heart.
