The Jinn Bride Who Came at Midnight

The Jinn Bride Who Came at Midnight
A haunting tale of love, betrayal, and the unseen world


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The clock struck twelve.

The village lay in silence, wrapped under the velvet blanket of the night. Not a leaf stirred. Not a dog barked. The kind of stillness that makes your skin crawl — the kind that whispers something is watching.

And that’s exactly when she came.

I was sitting on the cold floor of my room, back against the wall, staring at the flickering candlelight. Electricity had been out for hours, and sleep had abandoned me. The air was unusually heavy — like the calm before a storm. Then came the soft creak of my door.

Not a knock. Not footsteps.

Just a slow, soundless opening… as if the wind itself had fingers.

She stood there.

A woman. No — a vision. Her long black hair spilled like ink down her back, her dress shimmered silver in the dim light, and her eyes… they were not human. One deep blue, one fiery gold — glowing, not reflecting.

I didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak.

She stepped inside, barefoot, each movement fluid like smoke. Her lips curved in a soft smile. “You called me,” she whispered, her voice echoing in my mind more than in the air.

“I-I didn’t,” I stammered.

“But your soul did,” she replied.

She sat beside me, so close I could feel her cold presence seep through my skin. My heart pounded like drums of war, yet I couldn’t move. Couldn’t scream. Her eyes held me there — like chains made of dreams.

“You once promised love to someone you never met,” she said. “Remember?”

I did.

When I was sixteen, broken and alone, I had stood under the stars and whispered, If anyone hears me — jinn, spirit, anything — love me. I offer myself. It was foolish. Desperate.

But someone had listened.

She leaned in. Her breath was icy against my cheek. “I’ve waited. For years. But tonight, the veil is thin. Tonight, I can take what was promised.”

My skin prickled. My chest tightened.

“You're not human,” I said.

“Neither are you. Not anymore.” Her smile deepened.

Before I could protest, the candle blew out on its own. In the thick darkness, I felt her hand in mine — cold, soft, but somehow familiar. She began to whisper in a language I didn’t know, yet my mind responded like I had spoken it all my life.

A binding. A wedding.

A curse.

The air grew colder with each word she spoke. I could feel a pull deep within me, like invisible tendrils of some ancient force, tying me to her. It was overwhelming, like my very essence was being drawn into hers.

Her voice grew stronger, more commanding, and I felt my body betray me. The room around me started to blur, like I was caught between two worlds. Her words became chants, each syllable more powerful than the last.

Then came the silence.

For a moment, I thought I had died. But I felt something — a shift, a weight lifted off me. And then, I was alone again. The air returned to normal. The candle flickered back to life, as if nothing had happened.

I thought it was a dream.

I woke up to sunlight streaming through my window. My room was untouched, neat, as if nothing had ever disturbed it. But something had changed. I had changed.

I rushed to the mirror, my reflection staring back at me. And that’s when I saw it.

My eyes… one was blue. The other, gold.

I backed away, my heart racing. The feeling of her presence still lingered, like an unshakable shadow. I had made a pact — an unholy union with a being not of this world.

Days passed, but I could feel her watching me. Every glance, every shadow, felt like she was just around the corner. I never spoke to anyone about it. Who would believe me? Who would understand? But every night, when the moon was high, I would hear the whispers again. Soft. Tempting. Calling me to return.

To finish what we started.