Zainab had never seen the world, but she sensed its cruelty with every breath. She was born blind into a family that valued beauty above all else: light eyes, enchanting smiles, physical perfection. Her two sisters were admired for their radiant faces and graceful figures, but Zainab… Zainab was a disgrace. To her father, she was a shadow. A mistake.
From childhood, they hid her away whenever visitors arrived. “Don’t make a sound,” the maids would whisper to her. “Your father doesn’t want them to see you.” And she obeyed, shrinking back between the cold walls, wondering why her mere existence should be a source of shame.
When her mother died, Zainab was only five years old. With her went the only warmth she had ever known. Her father, consumed by bitterness, became cruel and distant. He never spoke her name again. “That thing,” he called her. “The curse God gave me.”
She grew up in silence, educated only by the echoes of her own solitude. She loved to read in Braille—her refuge, her escape—imagining landscapes and faces she would never see, but could feel in her soul. She dreamed of freedom, even though she didn’t know the color of the sky.
When he turned 21, his father decided to “get rid of the burden.” He did so in the most ruthless way.
One morning, without warning, he burst into her room. She was sitting by the window, running her fingers over an old book of poetry. The sharp sound of cloth falling onto her lap made her jump.
— “You’re getting married tomorrow.”
Her voice was harsh, devoid of emotion. Zainab froze.
— “Marry? To whom?” she murmured, her voice trembling.
— “With a beggar from the mosque. He’s poor, you’re blind. At least someone will put up with you.”
Her heart broke. She tried to beg, but she didn’t dare. She had never had the right to refuse.
💔 A MARRIAGE WITHOUT LIGHT
The next day was a living nightmare. No flowers, no music, no love. Only the humiliation of the entire town watching. Some laughed. Others murmured, “The blind man and the beggar.”
Her father didn’t even stay until the end. He put a bag of clothes in her hands, pushed her toward her new husband, and said disdainfully:
— “You’re not my problem anymore.”
The man, Yusha, didn’t say much. His voice was low, calm, almost timid. He led her out of the village, along a dirt road that smelled of rain. When they arrived, Zainab knew—even without seeing—that the house was humble. The walls smelled of mud and smoke.
“It’s not much,” Yusha murmured. “But you’ll be safe here.”
She sat down on a threadbare rug, feeling despair envelop her like a cloak. It was her destiny: to live as a beggar’s wife, hidden from the world.
But then something changed.
That night, Yusha made her tea. He offered her his blanket. And when she shivered, he lay down by the door to give her space and protect her from the cold. He spoke to her with a tenderness she had never known.
— “What stories do you like?” he asked her.
— “What dreams do you have?”
— “What sounds make you smile?”
No one had ever asked her those questions. No one had ever wanted to know her soul.
🌙 A LOVE BORN IN DARKNESS
The days passed. Yusha accompanied her to the river every morning, describing the landscape with words that felt like paint:
“The sun is rising, Zainab. It’s golden like honey on the water.”
“The birds are flying low today, they’re celebrating something.”
She began to imagine everything: the blue of the sky, the sparkle of the water, his smile. And little by little, the darkness that surrounded her stopped hurting.
For the first time in her life, Zainab laughed. She sang. She felt.
Every night, Yusha told him stories about stars and faraway kingdoms. And although their hut was still poor, in their hearts there was something they had never had before: peace.
Until one day, Zainab could no longer contain her curiosity.
— “Have you always been a beggar?” he asked gently.
Yusha hesitated. Then, in a low voice, she replied,
“Not always.”
That’s all. And she didn’t insist. But something in her tone lingered, like a shadow in the air.
⚡ THE DISCOVERY
A month later, Yusha fell ill, and Zainab went to the market alone for the first time. She had memorized the route, step by step.
As she was walking, someone grabbed her arm roughly.
— “Blind rat!” — said a female voice.
It was his sister, Aminah .
— “Are you still alive? Married to that beggar?” he mocked cruelly.
Zainab took a deep breath. — “I’m happy.”
Aminah let out a bitter laugh. — “Happy… you don’t even know who you’re married to.”
Zainab frowned. “What do you mean?”
Aminah leaned towards her and whispered,
“He’s not a beggar. You were lied to. You were deceived, Zainab.”
The world shook beneath her feet. She walked back home guided only by the sound of the wind, trembling, with her sister’s voice piercing her chest.
That night, when Yusha returned, she waited for him by the door.
“Tell me the truth,” she said firmly. “Who are you really?”
Yusha remained silent for a long time. Then she knelt down, took his hands, and said in a broken voice:
— “You weren’t supposed to know yet. But I can’t lie to you anymore.”
His breathing became heavy.
— “I am not a beggar. I am the Emir’s son.”
🌹 THE TRUTH BEHIND THE LIE
Zainab didn’t understand. He continued:
— “Your father asked me to pretend to be a beggar. He wanted to get rid of you, but I… I couldn’t refuse. I met him when he came to the mosque. He told me about a blind daughter that nobody wanted. I felt I should meet you.”
She listened to him, her heart ablaze.
— “At first I thought it would be charity. But after meeting you… I fell in love. Every word you said, every smile, showed me more about life than all my father’s wealth.”
Zainab cried. Not from anger, but from something deeper: gratitude, confusion, love.
Yusha continued speaking, her voice trembling with tears.
— “When I described the sun to you, it was because I wanted you to feel it. When I spoke to you of the river, it was because I wanted you to know that the world belongs to you, even if you can’t see it. Zainab… you taught me to see with my heart.”
She reached out, touched his face, and whispered:
— “I don’t need your eyes. I saw you from the beginning.”
💫 A NEW DAWN
Weeks later, Yusha brought Zainab to his family’s palace. Everyone was astonished. The Emir, upon learning the truth, was initially furious, but upon witnessing the nobility and sincere love between them, his anger turned to respect.
Zainab, the blind daughter who was scorned, became the wife of the Emir’s son. But beyond the title, she became a symbol of hope for all the marginalized people of the kingdom.
And when people asked her how she felt, she always gave the same answer:
“My father gave me a beggar to punish me. But God gave me a king to love me.”
🌷 EPILOGUE
Zainab never regained her sight. But she never needed it. Because through Yusha’s words, she learned that the eyes do not see the soul.
And every morning, when the sun touched her face, she smiled and said:
“I can feel the light. And that is enough.”
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