Zainab had never seen the world, but she could feel its cruelty with every breath she took. She had been born blind into a family that valued beauty above all else. Her two sisters were admired for their captivating eyes and slender figures, while Zainab was treated as a burden — a shameful secret hidden behind closed doors.
Her mother died when she was just five years old, and from that point on, her father changed. He became bitter, resentful, and cruel — especially to her. He never called her by her name; He called it “that thing.” He didn’t want her on the table during family meals or around when visitors came. I thought I was cursed. And when Zainab turned 21, she made a decision that would shatter what little was left of her already broken heart.
One morning, her father walked into his small room where Zainab sat quietly, running his fingers over the Braille pages of an old, worn-out book. She dropped a folded piece of cloth into her lap. “You’re getting married tomorrow,” he said dryly. Zainab froze. The words made no sense. Marry? With whom?
“He’s a church beggar,” his father continued. “You’re blind. He is poor. A good match for you.” He felt as if blood had dripped from his face. He wanted to scream, but no sound came out. I had no choice. His father never gave him a choice.
The next day, he married in a small, hurried ceremony. Of course, he never saw his face — and no one dared describe it to him. Her father pushed her towards the man and told him to take his arm. She obeyed like a ghost trapped in her own body. People laughed under their breath, whispering, “The blind woman and the beggar.”
After the ceremony, her father handed her a small bag with some clothes and pushed her towards the man once more. “Now it’s your problem,” he said — and left without looking back.
The beggar, whose name was Yusha, led her silently down the road. He didn’t say anything for a long time. They came to a small, ramshackle hut on the edge of the village. It smelled of damp earth and smoke. “It’s not much,” Yusha said softly. “But you’ll be safe here.” She sat down 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 same first night. Yusha made tea for him with soft hands. He gave her his own serape and slept by the door, like a guard dog guarding its queen. He spoke to her as if he really cared — asking her what stories she liked, what dreams she had, what foods made her smile. No one had ever asked him such things before. The days turned into weeks. Yusha would take her to the stream every morning, describing the sun, the birds, the trees—with such poetry that Zainab began to feel as if she could see them through her words. He sang to her while she did the laundry, and at night he told her stories about the stars and distant lands. She laughed for the first time in years. His heart began to open. And in that strange little hut… Something unexpected happened: Zainab fell in love.
One afternoon, as she reached for his hand, he asked, “Were you always a beggar?” He hesitated. Then he said softly, “I wasn’t always like this.” But she never said more, and Zainab did not insist.
Until one day.
She went to the market alone to buy vegetables. Yusha had given her careful directions, and she memorized each step. But halfway through, someone grabbed her arm violently. “Blind rat!” spat a voice. It was her sister — Sofia. “Are you still alive? Still pretending to be a beggar’s wife?” Zainab felt tears welling up, but she stood her ground. “I am happy,” he said. Sofia laughed cruelly. “You don’t even know what it looks like. He’s trash — just like you.” Then she whispered something that broke her heart: “He’s not a beggar, Zainab. You’ve been lied to.”
Zainab staggered back home, confused. He waited until nightfall, and when Yusha returned, he asked her 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.” His heart was pounding in his chest. He took a deep breath. “I’m not a beggar. I am the son of the Chief of the Community (Cacique).”
Zainab’s world began to spin as she processed her words. “I am the son of the Cacique.” He tried to regulate his breathing, trying to understand what he had just heard. Their minds relived every moment they had shared — their kindness, their quiet strength, the vividness of their stories that seemed too rich for a mere beggar. Now I understood why. He had never been a beggar. Her father hadn’t married her off to a beggar — unknowingly, he’d married her off to royalty disguised in rags. She withdrew her hands, stepped back and asked — her voice trembled:
“Why? Why did you let me believe you were a beggar?” Yusha stood, her voice calm but charged with emotion: “Because I wanted someone to see me — not my wealth, not my title, just me. Someone pure. Someone whose love was not bought or forced. You were all I asked for in my prayers, Zainab.” She sat up, her legs too weak to support her. His heart was fighting a battle between anger and love. Why hadn’t I told him? Why had he let her think that she had been discarded as garbage? 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 about 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 would accept — because he wanted to get rid of you.” Tears rolled down Zainab’s cheeks. The pain of her father’s rejection was mixed with disbelief that someone had come this far — only to find a heart like hers. I didn’t know what to say. So he simply asked, “What now? What happens now?” Yusha took his hand gently. “Now, you come with me. To my world. To the palace.” His heart skipped a beat. “But I’m blind… how can I be a princess?” He smiled. “You already are, my princess.”
That night, he barely slept. Their thoughts swirled — their father’s cruelty, Yusha’s love, and the terrifying uncertainty of what the future held. In the morning, a royal buggy arrived in front of the hut. Guards dressed in black and gold bowed to Yusha and Zainab as they left. Zainab clung tightly to Yusha’s arm as the buggy 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 Matriarch, stepped forward, her eyes narrowing as she studied Zainab. But Zainab bowed respectfully. Yusha stood by his side and declared, “This is my wife. The woman I chose. The woman who saw my soul when no one else could.”
The Matriarch was silent for a moment. Then he stepped forward and hugged Zainab. “Then she’s my daughter,” he said. Zainab almost collapsed in relief. Yusha squeezed his hand and whispered, “I told you, you are 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. His whole life had changed in a single day. It 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 appearance or beauty, but for her soul. And though peace filled that moment, something dark still lingered in his heart—the shadow of his father’s hatred. She knew that the world would not accept her easily, that the court would whisper and mock her blindness, and that enemies would arise within the palace walls. For the first time, however, she didn’t feel small. She felt powerful.
The next morning, she was summoned to the court, where nobles and leaders had gathered. Some scoffed at seeing her enter 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 it’s not, then I’ll go with her.” Gasps and murmurs filled the room. Zainab felt her heart pounding as she looked at him. He had already given everything for her. “Would you give up the throne for me?” he whispered. He looked at her with fierce passion in his eyes. “I’ve already done it once. I would do it again.” The Matriarch stood up. “So let it be known — from this day on, Zainab is not just his wife. She is Princess Zainab of the Royal House. Anyone who disrespects it, disrespects the crown.”
And with those words, the room fell silent. Zainab’s heart pounded — no longer out of fear, but out of strength. He knew his life would continue to change, but now, he would do so on his 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 — just for the love in her heart.
News of Zainab’s acceptance as a princess quickly spread throughout the kingdom. The nobles, initially bewildered by the new princess’s blindness, began to see past her disability. What Zainab had shown — through her dignity, her strength, and most of all, her unconditional love for Yusha — made many who previously doubted her begin to respect her. But life in the palace would not be easy. Although Zainab had found her place alongside 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 halls of the palace, and not all eyes on her were kind. However, Zainab had learned to see the world differently. Although her eyes couldn’t 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 by her side, Zainab reflected on everything she had experienced. Despite growing efforts to accept her, something still gnawed at her — a sense of not being completely welcome. It wasn’t just her blindness — it was something deeper, tied to her past and the life she’d been forced to leave behind. “Sometimes I feel like I haven’t really been accepted yet,” he admitted to Yusha, leaning on her 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’re always enough. You’re not just my wife — you’re the woman I love with all my heart.” Zainab stopped and turned to him. Although I couldn’t see his face, his voice was all he needed. The calmness in his words made her feel safe, though the echo of rejection still lingered in her heart.
“I know it won’t be easy,” he continued. “My father never accepted who I am. And now, here in this palace, I fear that they will only see me because of my blindness… because of my past. Sometimes, I don’t know if I deserve all of this.” Yusha leaned over, gently lifting her chin, her voice soft but firm… “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’re 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 blossom deep within her. Yusha didn’t just accept her—he loved her for who she really was, no matter what she looked like, her blindness, or her past. Her love was a force that filled her with confidence. At that moment, Zainab made a decision: She would not allow the prejudice of the court or the memory of her father to define her. She wouldn’t simply be the wife of the prince or the blind princess. It would be 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. He used his voice, his wisdom, and his deep sensitivity to change the perceptions of the nobles — not with harsh words, but with actions. During court meetings, he set out to listen to each noble, understand their concerns, and seek solutions that would benefit everyone. Little by little, he began to earn people’s respect — not because of his title, but because of his heart and his ability to bring people together.
By her side, Yusha supported her every step of the way. Although he was the prince, he was never afraid to share the limelight with Zainab. She understood that her true role was to walk by her side, respect her and love her for who she was. Over time, Zainab became stronger, more confident. She realized that the acceptance she had been seeking was not coming from others, but from 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 only the court, but the lives of everyone around her. The palace shone brightly—not because of the riches or the 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 by his side, was his constant and 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
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