: You Are Mine

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You Are Mine

— A Love That Defeated Destiny —

The gentle drizzle tapped against the windowpane like a thousand tiny fingers, each drop singing a soft lullaby. Ali sat in the quiet corner of his small apartment, cradling a steaming cup of tea between his hands. The scent of cardamom rose with the steam, mixing with the fresh, earthy fragrance of rain drifting in through the half-open window. Lahore’s winter evenings always carried a bittersweet charm — cold enough to make you wrap yourself in a blanket, yet warm in the way they stirred old memories.

Tonight, those memories were of Hina.

It had been four years since the first time he saw her, yet the image was still etched in his mind with crystal clarity. It was the first day of university. The lecture hall buzzed with chatter and the scraping of chairs. And then… she walked in.

Hina wore a crisp white shalwar kameez, her blue dupatta draped gracefully over her shoulders. The soft morning light from the windows seemed to follow her as if it, too, had fallen under her spell. Her presence wasn’t loud or attention-seeking — it was serene, like the still surface of a lake that hides its depth.

Ali remembered gripping his pen tighter, pretending to focus on the notes in front of him. But his eyes betrayed him, sneaking glances whenever he thought no one would notice.

Days passed. They had no formal introduction, yet fate kept placing them in each other’s path. In the library, they’d end up at the same bookshelf. In the cafeteria, somehow there would always be an empty seat across from her. They began exchanging polite greetings, then short conversations.

Ali discovered that Hina had a voice like soft rain — gentle, calming, and warm. She loved reading poetry, especially Faiz and Parveen Shakir. She never laughed too loudly, but when she did, her eyes would crinkle in a way that made Ali feel the world was suddenly a better place.

Still, he kept his feelings locked away. Love, he believed, should not be rushed; it should unfold like a story — page by page.

One rainy afternoon, the library windows fogged from the chill outside, Hina returned a book and caught Ali’s eye. She tilted her head and asked with genuine curiosity,

“Ali, it’s raining… do you like the rain?”

Ali smiled, looking past her to the raindrops sliding down the glass.

“Rain and you… I like both very much.”

It was a simple sentence, yet it hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. Hina blinked, and a soft pink bloomed on her cheeks. Neither of them spoke for a moment, but both knew something had quietly shifted.

Their moments together became rarer but more meaningful. A shared cup of chai during a campus festival. Sitting under the old banyan tree, talking about dreams. An accidental brush of fingers when exchanging a pen.

But fate is rarely kind for too long.

Ali’s father fell seriously ill during his final year. Overnight, Ali’s world tilted. Books and lectures were replaced with hospital visits, bills, and the crushing weight of responsibility. He had to quit university to manage the struggling family business.

Hina called him, texted him, tried to meet him. But Ali, drowning in debt and duty, began to withdraw. He told himself it was temporary — that he would return to her when life allowed. But weeks became months, and months became years.

Two years later, the universe brought them face-to-face again — at a wedding.

Ali had been invited by an old friend. He was scanning the hall when his gaze landed on her. Hina. She was standing near the stage, dressed in an emerald green outfit that shimmered under the golden lights. She looked radiant, but her smile was softer now, tinged with something he couldn’t name.

When their eyes met, she hesitated before walking over.

“Why did you disappear, Ali?” she asked quietly, almost like she was afraid of the answer.

Ali swallowed, his throat tight.

“Life didn’t give me a chance… but my heart still belongs to you.”

Before she could reply, her father approached. His gaze was sharp, assessing Ali from head to toe. Ali knew the man’s reputation — wealthy, influential, and fiercely protective of his daughter.

That night, Ali lay awake, replaying the encounter. He realized something with startling clarity: he could either let destiny win, or fight for the woman who still made his heart race.

From that day on, Ali worked as if his life depended on it. He expanded the family business, took calculated risks, and pushed through every setback. Days blurred into nights, and nights into mornings. Three years passed in the blink of an eye.

By the time Ali felt ready, he wasn’t just financially stable — he was someone he could finally be proud of.

And so, one cool evening, under a sky painted with fading sunlight, Ali walked up to Hina’s doorstep. His heart pounded, but his resolve was unshakable. When the door opened and Hina stood before him, surprise flickering in her eyes, Ali didn’t waste a second.

“I’ve come to ask for your hand — not just with love, but with the respect you deserve,” he said. His voice was steady, though every nerve in his body was on edge.

Her father stepped into the doorway. The silence stretched. He looked at Hina, then at Ali. And in that brief exchange, Ali saw the flicker of a decision being made.

“My daughter’s happiness,” her father said finally, “is everything to me.”

And just like that, the weight that had sat on Ali’s chest for years lifted.

They were married during the rainy season. The sky that day was overcast, the air cool, and the gentle scent of wet earth drifted through the open windows of the small wedding hall.

When Ali took Hina’s hand, it felt like the world had fallen away.

“I changed my life to have you,” he whispered, “and you are my life.”

Hina smiled, her eyes shimmering with tears.

“Love won, Ali… even destiny lost.”

As the rain began to fall outside, each drop felt like an applause from the heavens — celebrating a love that refused to surrender.

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