The Girl I Wanted to Marry Was a Jinn

The Girl I Wanted to Marry Was a Jinn

It started with a dream.

I was standing in a field of white flowers under a purple sky. The air felt warm, soft — like I was being held. And then she appeared.

A girl in a pale green dress. Barefoot. Eyes deep like the sea right before a storm. She smiled and said:

> “You found me.”




---

I didn’t know her. But I didn’t want to leave.

The next morning, I woke up with her voice echoing in my head. The feeling didn’t fade. Her scent — something like old jasmine and firewood — lingered in my room.

I thought it was just a vivid dream.

Until she came again.


---

Night after night, she returned.

Same dream. Same field. Same smile.

She didn’t tell me her name. She didn’t need to. Her presence felt… right.

She listened when I spoke. She remembered things I’d said days before. She laughed softly. She cried once. I don’t know why.

One night, I asked, half joking:

> “Will you marry me?”



She didn’t laugh.

She just nodded and said:

> “You already have.”




---

I woke up drenched in sweat.

There was a silver ring on my finger.

I don’t wear rings.

No one could explain it. It wasn’t expensive — but it wasn’t from this world either. My friend said it felt “wrongly cold.”

My aunt tried to remove it.

Her hand twitched violently and she screamed.

After that, I stopped telling people.


---

She started appearing outside the dream.

I would catch glimpses — reflections in mirrors, shadows in closed rooms, perfume where no one had walked.

One night, while alone, I whispered:

> “Are you real?”



She replied — not in voice, but in thought:

> “I’m as real as your soul. And I chose yours.”




---

I stopped searching for human relationships.

Why would I?

I was already in one.

But slowly… things grew strange.

I stopped feeling hunger.

I stopped dreaming anything except her.

I started hearing her voice in places where no one else did.


One night, she said:

> “You are becoming mine. Soon, fully.”



> “What does that mean?” I asked.



> “When the final veil lifts… you’ll never wake again.”




---

I panicked.

I went to an aalim — a man who dealt with unseen matters.

He listened quietly, then said:

> “She is not just a jinn. She is from the Zahira — the ones who bond through dreams. They don’t visit. They attach.”



> “Can I break it?”



He frowned.

> “If she’s marked you willingly — and you accepted, even in jest — the bond is sacred to them. And dangerous to break.”



> “So what should I do?”



He handed me a page of Qur’anic verses.

> “Recite this before sleep. Don’t talk to her. Don’t look at her. Don’t feel her.”



I tried.


---

The first night, she didn’t come.

The second night, she stood in the dream — at a distance. Silently watching.

On the third night, she spoke:

> “You’re pushing me away.”



> “I have to,” I said. “You’re not human. This isn’t real.”



She walked up to me, gently touched my face, and whispered:

> “Then wake up.”



I did.

My room was full of flower petals — the same from the dream field.


---

After that, my sleep grew disturbed.
My health declined.
Voices followed me.

One night, she appeared, but not in peace.

Her face was hidden by a white veil. Her voice was colder.

> “You asked for me. You wore my ring. You spoke the words. You called this love.”



> “But I didn’t know!” I cried.



> “Now you do.”



She placed her hand on my chest.

Everything went dark.


---

I woke up in a hospital.

Three days had passed.

My mother said I’d been unconscious, my heart nearly stopped. Doctors had no explanation.

The ring was gone.

And so was she.


---

I thought it was over.

But sometimes, when I close my eyes — I see her, far across the field, watching.

Smiling.

Waiting.


---

And last week, a parcel arrived.

No address. No name.

Inside it — the same silver ring.

And a note:

> “Even silence is a kind of yes.”