When Hearts Choose: A Tale of Love vs Arranged Marriage

In a peaceful neighborhood of Multan, two best friends, Sania and Hina, grew up like sisters. They attended the same school, shared every secret, and even dreamed of their weddings together. But there was one difference that set them apart: their beliefs about marriage.

Sania was a dreamer. She believed in love—real, deep, emotional love.

“I want to fall in love first,” she often said.

“Marriage should be the result of love, not the beginning of it.”

Hina, on the other hand, was practical.

“Love comes after marriage,” she would reply.

“Our parents know what’s best. They will find the right man.”

Their friendship stayed strong, despite their differences. Life took them to different cities after high school. Sania went to Karachi to study literature, while Hina stayed in Multan and pursued a degree in business.

In Karachi, Sania joined a literary club. There she met Bilal, a writer with a calm voice and a thoughtful smile. He listened when she spoke and encouraged her to write more. Their friendship began with poetry and coffee, and slowly turned into something more.

Sania felt nervous about telling her parents. She belonged to a conservative family where love marriage was rare. But she knew Bilal was someone special. When she finally told her mother, there was silence. Then came the questions.

“Who is he?” her mother asked.

“What will people say?” her father added.

Sania remained calm.

“He’s educated, kind, and he respects me. I want you to meet him.”

After many discussions, her parents agreed to meet Bilal. He came with his parents, respectfully dressed, speaking politely, and answering every question with honesty. Her parents, though hesitant at first, saw the sincerity in his eyes. It wasn’t easy, but eventually, they gave their blessing.

Meanwhile, Hina’s parents received a proposal from a family friend. The boy, Umar, was a bank manager in Lahore. His family was respected, and the match seemed perfect on paper. Hina agreed without meeting Umar more than once.

Her wedding was grand, filled with flowers, music, and guests. Everyone praised the match. But soon after moving to Lahore, Hina realized marriage was more than ceremonies and photos.

Umar was polite, but distant. He believed his duty ended with providing for the household. He rarely spoke with her except for practical matters. When she tried to start conversations, he remained busy. He wasn’t cruel—just emotionally unavailable.

Hina began to feel lonely. She missed her parents, her friends, and even simple conversations. One evening, she called Sania and broke down in tears.

“You were right,” she said.

“I thought love would come later. But now I’m not even sure if it will come at all.”

Sania listened quietly.

“It’s not too late. Talk to him. Tell him what you need.”

Hina tried. She sat with Umar one evening and spoke honestly.

“I know we didn’t know each other before marriage, but I want us to try. I need more than just a home. I need a partner.”

Umar was surprised. He admitted he didn’t know how to be expressive.

“I was raised to think providing was enough,” he said.

“But I want to learn. For you.”

Their journey was slow. There were awkward moments, but also small victories—like their first walk in the park, their first meal cooked together, and their first laughter in weeks. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start.

Back in Karachi, Sania and Bilal were preparing for their own wedding. It was a simple ceremony, attended by close friends and family. Her parents, once doubtful, now smiled proudly. They had seen their daughter choose a partner who valued her voice.

A year later, both friends met during Eid holidays. Sitting on the rooftop, sipping chai, they shared stories of their new lives.

“You know,” Hina said, “I thought I had made the safe choice. But it turned out every marriage, love or arranged, needs effort.”

Sania nodded.

“And love marriage doesn’t mean no problems. It just means you start with a connection—and then you build the rest.”

They laughed, knowing that life wasn’t about choosing the right path, but about walking it with honesty and heart.

Marriage, they realized, is not a destination. It’s a journey. And whether it begins with love or arrangement, it thrives only on respect, understanding, and patience.

Their stories were different, but the lesson was the same: what matters most isn’t how love starts, but how it grows.

A few months later, Hina surprised Sania with a visit. She seemed happier, more relaxed.

“We’re going to Istanbul for our anniversary,” she said, smiling.

Sania hugged her.

“See? You made it work.”

“And you fought for your heart,” Hina replied.

“In the end, both paths can lead to love, as long as we walk them with courage.”

As they stood together on the terrace, watching the sun set over their old neighborhood, they knew one thing for sure:

Friendship, like marriage, also needs care.

And in both, choosing with love, growing with patience, and standing with truth made all the difference.