Zainab had never seen the world, but she could feel its cruelty with every breath she took. She was born blind into a family that valued beauty above all else. Her two sisters were admired for their captivating eyes and graceful figures, while Zainab was treated like a burden — a shameful secret hidden behind closed doors.

Her mother died when she was only five, and from that moment on, her father changed. He became bitter, resentful, and cruel — especially toward her. He never called her by name; he called her “that thing.” He didn’t want her at the dinner table during family meals or anywhere near when visitors came. He believed she was cursed. And when Zainab turned 21, he made a decision that would shatter what little was left of her already broken heart.

One morning, her father entered her small room where Zainab sat silently, running her fingers across the braille pages of an old, worn book. He dropped a folded piece of cloth into her lap. “You’re getting married tomorrow,” he said flatly. Zainab froze. The words didn’t make sense. Married? To whom?

“He’s a beggar from the local mosque,” her father continued. “You’re blind. He’s poor. A good match for you.” It felt like the blood drained from her face. She wanted to scream, but no sound came out. She had no choice. Her father never gave her choices.

The next day, she was married in a small, rushed ceremony. Of course, she never saw his face — and no one dared describe him to her. Her father shoved her toward the man and told her to take his arm. She obeyed like a ghost trapped in her own body. People laughed behind their hands, whispering: “The blind girl and the beggar.”

After the ceremony, her father handed her a small bag with a few clothes and pushed her toward the man once more. “She’s Your Problem Now,” He Said—And Walked Away Without Looking Back.

The beggar, whose name was Yusha, silently led her down the path. He said nothing for a long time. They arrived at a small, broken-down hut on the edge of the village. It smelled of wet earth and smoke. “It’s not much,” Yusha said softly. “But you’ll be safe here.” She sat on the old mat inside, holding back tears. This was her life now — a blind girl married to a beggar, in a hut made of mud and hope.

But something strange happened that very first night. Yusha made her tea with gentle hands. He gave her his own shawl and slept by the door, like a guard dog protecting his queen. He spoke to her as if he genuinely cared—asking what stories she liked, what dreams she had, what foods made her smile. No one had ever asked her such things before. Days turned into weeks. Yusha walked her to the river each morning, describing the sun, the birds, the trees — with such poetry that Zainab began to feel as if she could see them through his words. He sang to her as she washed clothes, and at night he told her stories about stars and faraway lands. She laughed for the first time in years. Her heart began to open. And in that small, strange hut… something unexpected happened: Zainab fell in love.

One afternoon, as she reached for his hand, she asked: “Were you always a beggar?” He hesitated. Then said softly: “I wasn’t always like this.” But he never said more, and Zainab didn’t push.

Until one day.

She went to the market alone to buy vegetables. Yusha had given her careful directions, and she memorized every step. But halfway there, someone grabbed her arm violently. “Blind rat!” a voice spat. It was her sister — Amina. “You’re still alive? Still pretending to be the wife of a beggar?” Zainab felt the tears rising, but she stood tall. “I’m happy,” she said. Amina laughed cruelly. “You don’t even know what he looks like. He’s trash—just like you.” Then she whispered something that shattered her heart: “He’s not a beggar, Zainab. You’ve been lied to.”

Zainab stumbled back home, confused. She waited until nightfall, and when Yusha returned, she asked him again — but this time firmly: “Tell me the truth. Who are you really?” And that’s when he knelt before her, took her hands, and said: “You weren’t supposed to know yet. But I can’t lie to you anymore.” Her heart pounded in her chest. He took a deep breath. “I’m not a beggar. I am the son of the Maharaja.”

Zainab’s world began to spin as she processed his words. “I’m the son of the Maharaja.” She tried to steady her breathing, trying to make sense of what she’d just heard. Her mind replayed every moment they had shared—his kindness, his quiet strength, the vividness of his stories that felt too rich for a simple beggar. Now she understood why. He had never been a beggar. Her father hadn’t married her off to a beggar—he had unknowingly married her into royalty disguised in rags. She pulled her hands away, stepped back, and asked—her voice shaking:

“Why? Why did you let me believe you were a beggar?” Yusha stood up, his voice calm but heavy with emotion: “Because I wanted someone to see me—not my wealth, not my title, just me. Someone pure. Someone whose love wasn’t bought or forced. You were everything I prayed for, Zainab.” She sat down, her legs too weak to hold her. Her heart battled anger and love. Why hadn’t he told her? Why had he let her think she was thrown away like trash? Yusha knelt beside her again.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said. “I came to the village in disguise because I was tired of suitors who loved the throne but not the man. I heard of a blind girl rejected by her own father. I watched you from afar for weeks before proposing through your father, dressed as a beggar. I knew he’d accept — because he wanted to be rid of you.” Tears rolled down Zainab’s cheeks. The pain of her father’s rejection mixed with the disbelief that someone had gone so far — just to find a heart like hers. She didn’t know what to say. So she simply asked: “And now? What happens now?” Yusha took her hand gently. “Now, you come with me. To my world. To the palace.” Her heart leapt. “But I’m blind… how can I be a princess?” He smiled. “You already are, my princess.”

That night, she barely slept. Her thoughts spun in circles — her father’s cruelty, Yusha’s love, and the terrifying uncertainty of what lay ahead. In the morning, a royal carriage arrived in front of the hut. Guards dressed in black and gold bowed before Yusha and Zainab as they stepped outside. Zainab held tightly to Yusha’s arm as the carriage began its journey to the palace. When they arrived, a crowd had already gathered. They were shocked by the return of the lost prince — but even more shocked to see him with a blind girl. Yusha’s mother, the Maharani, stepped forward, her eyes narrowing as she studied Zainab. But Zainab bowed respectfully. Yusha remained at her side and declared: “This is my wife. The woman I chose. The woman who saw my soul when no one else could.”

The Maharani was silent for a moment. Then she stepped forward and embraced Zainab. “Then she is my daughter,” she said. Zainab nearly collapsed with relief. Yusha squeezed her hand and whispered, “I told you, you’re safe.” That night, as they settled into their room in the palace, Zainab stood by the window, listening to the sounds of the royal grounds. Her entire life had changed in a single day.

She was no longer “that thing” locked in a dark room. She was a wife, a princess, a woman who had been loved not for her looks or beauty, but for her soul. And though peace filled that moment, something dark still lingered in her heart — the shadow of her father’s hatred. She knew the world would not accept her easily, that the court would whisper and mock her blindness, and that enemies would rise within the palace walls. Yet for the first time, she didn’t feel small. She felt powerful.

The next morning, she was summoned to court, where nobles and leaders had gathered. Some scoffed as she entered with Yusha, but she held her head high. Then came the unexpected twist. Yusha stood before them and declared: “I will not be crowned until my wife is accepted and honored in this palace. And if she is not—then I will leave with her.” Gasps and murmurs filled the hall. Zainab felt her heart pounding as she looked at him. He had already given everything for her. “You would give up the throne for me?” she whispered. He looked at her with fierce passion in his eyes. “I already did once. I’d do it again.” The Maharani stood. “Then let it be known — from this day forward, Zainab is not only his wife. She is Princess Zainab of the Royal House. Anyone who disrespects her disrespects the crown.”

And with those words, the hall fell silent. Zainab’s heart beat strongly — no longer from fear, but from strength. She knew her life would continue to change, but now, it would do so on her own terms. She was no longer a shadow — but a woman who had found her place in the world. And best of all, for the first time, she didn’t need to be seen for her beauty — only for the love in her heart.

The news of Zainab’s acceptance as a princess spread quickly throughout the kingdom. The nobles, initially puzzled by the new princess’s blindness, began to look beyond her disability. What Zainab had shown—through her dignity, her strength, and above all, her unconditional love for Yusha—made many who once doubted her begin to respect her. But life in the palace would not be easy. Though Zainab had found her place beside Yusha, the challenges were many.

The royal court was a space full of intrigue, ambition, and people who saw Zainab as a threat to tradition. Whispers filled the palace halls, and not all eyes upon her were kind. Yet Zainab had learned to see the world differently. Though her eyes could not see, she could sense people’s intentions—through tone of voice, body language, and the weight of silence. One afternoon, as she walked through the palace gardens with Yusha at her side, Zainab reflected on everything she had been through. Despite the growing efforts to accept her, something still gnawed at her—a feeling of never being fully welcome. It wasn’t just her blindness—it was something deeper, tied to her past and the life she had been forced to leave behind.

“Sometimes I feel like they still haven’t truly accepted me,” she admitted to Yusha, leaning on his arm. He looked at her with tenderness and understanding. “I know, Zainab. And while I can’t change what others think, I need you to know this: To me, you are always enough. You are not just my wife—you are the woman I love with all my heart.” Zainab stopped and turned toward him. Though she couldn’t see his face, his voice was all she needed. The calm in his words made her feel safe, even though the echo of rejection still lingered in her heart.

“I know it won’t be easy,” she continued. “My father never accepted who I am. And now, here in this palace, I fear they will only see me for my blindness… for my past. Sometimes, I don’t know if I deserve any of this.” Yusha leaned in, gently lifting her chin, his voice soft but steady… “Zainab, you deserve everything you have—and so much more,” Yusha said. “It’s not your blindness that defines you, nor your past. What defines you is your soul, your kindness, your courage. That’s why you are a princess—not just of this palace, but of my heart. It doesn’t matter what others say. You are not an ornament, nor a curiosity. You are everything to me.” With those words, Zainab felt a warmth bloom deep within her.

Yusha didn’t just accept her—he loved her for who she truly was, regardless of her appearance, her blindness, or her past. His love was a force that filled her with confidence. In that moment, Zainab made a decision: She would not allow the court’s prejudice or the memory of her father to define her. She would not be merely the prince’s wife or the blind princess. She would be so much more. She would become the woman who transformed the palace from within— a woman who would prove that true power comes from authenticity, from being oneself in the face of every obstacle. And so, Zainab began to take an active role in the royal court.

She used her voice, her wisdom, and her deep sensitivity to change the nobles’ perceptions— not with harsh words, but with action. During court meetings, she made it her mission to listen to every noble, to understand their concerns, and to seek solutions that benefited all. Little by little, she began to earn the respect of the people— not for her title, but for her heart and her ability to bring people together. At her side, Yusha supported her every step of the way. Though he was the prince, he never feared sharing the spotlight with Zainab. He understood that his true role was to walk beside her, to respect her, and to love her for who she was.

As time passed, Zainab grew stronger, more assured. She realized that the acceptance she had been searching for did not come from others—it came from within herself. And so, over the years, Zainab was no longer just the princess of a palace. She became the queen of her own destiny, transforming not just the court, but the lives of everyone around her. The palace shone with light— not because of the riches or power of the crown, but because of Zainab’s authenticity. She had found what she had always longed for: a place in the world where she was not seen for what she lacked, but for what she had to offer. Yusha, always at her side, was her constant, unconditional support. Together, they built a kingdom where love, acceptance, and inner strength triumphed above all else. Because in the end, Zainab had learned: Love is not built on appearance— but on the deep connection between two hearts. The End.