Being royal doesn't always look fancy. At least, that’s how I see myself—a woman in a veil, who covers herself so that not an inch of her is seen by other men. That’s the community I belong to, where even if I hurt someone, I must face the consequences even after death. "You reap what you sow"—that’s the definition of the afterlife I believe in. But also, if you move a rock from the middle of the road, you will be rewarded. Treating everyone with kindness and love—that's what my Islam teaches me. I believe myself to be a princess of Momins. Momins means one who believes in Allah, a person who is pious and always faithful.

My name is Amina, and I come from a devoted Muslim family. Growing up, my parents instilled in me the values of our religion and the importance of following its teachings. I was content with my life, living in a small town and going to a madrasa, where I learned about Islam and its principles. But my parents had a different plan for me. They wanted me to pursue higher education and experience a different way of life. So, they sent me to a hostel in the city to study.

At first, I was hesitant and scared, but I trusted my parents' decision. The hostel was a whole new world for me. I was surrounded by people who had a completely different lifestyle. They wore modern clothes, had makeup on, and openly talked about dating and relationships. It was a culture shock, but I tried my best to adapt. As a child who always relied on her parents to make decisions, this was the toughest thing for me.

After our course completion, we had a few parties among us girls to celebrate in Bhisika's hostel, where there were no restrictions. It was my first time opening a bottle of wine. We were five in total, but I only knew Bhisika. Something took over me that day, and after having four pegs, I remember everything. Bhisika was wasted just after one drink and was being lovey-dovey on the phone with her boyfriend. Yamee, who was Bhisika's best friend, was wasted after two pegs and was crying to her ex-boyfriend, who had broken up with her after eight years of a relationship. Yamee's elder sister, Radhika, didn’t drink and was looking after us, especially her sister. After watching Yamee, Radhika's friend, Komal, called her ex and started crying about why he left her and married someone else.

In a corner, I was listening to everyone, having sips, and thinking about whom to call. Because I had neither dating experience nor a boyfriend, except for a crush. He was my crush for nine years, or I could say I had made it a habit to ignore anyone else and focus on my studies. But the problem started when I called him that night, and he didn’t pick up. Why did I even have to call him, knowing he would never love me? The reason lay here—he had recently broken up with his girlfriend. Marrying a relative was common in my caste, but I was afraid of my parents' strictness.

The next day, I was filled with regret and embarrassment. But then, something unexpected happened. My crush, Sameer, called me and apologized for our past misunderstandings. His voice was warm and soothing, a stark contrast to the anxiety that had consumed me. As we started talking, an unfamiliar feeling began to blossom in my heart. Was this a new beginning, or just another fleeting moment?

Our conversations became frequent, and each call was filled with laughter and shared memories. Yet, a shadow of doubt loomed over me. Was this what dating felt like? Or was I merely lost in a mirage of my own making? The conflict in my mind was relentless, a constant battle between my upbringing and the modern world I had stepped into.

But maybe I was wrong about something. In a relationship, it’s not just about love; it also holds the physical intimacy between lovers.

As our bond grew stronger, the suspense of the unknown future kept me on edge. The romance was there, undeniable and sweet, but so were the fears and uncertainties. In the end, I was left wondering—would my faith and upbringing allow me to embrace this new chapter, or would the pull of tradition hold me back?

The chapter of my life started when I was admitted to my graduation and my route led me to his city. I was happy just to be by his side, but it's not love if you are not greedy.

He was still connected with his ex, Aliya. The day I went to his house to see him, I got the news that he had gone to handle Aliya’s admission. I thought it was nothing; their families were friends, after all. But I became restless after knowing that he had taken his motorcycle instead of his car. My jealousy took over, and that day he finally proposed to me, placing a silver chain around my neck. I was torn. On one side was my nine-year longing for him; on the other, a relationship beginning with unresolved doubts. I should have said no, but I also craved love. Or maybe I was just desperate to be wanted. I accepted his proposal, and his sister Saniya, a good friend of mine, helped him.

That day, his parents were away, and after convincing my mother that I needed to stay with Saniya because my mobile wasn't working, I was allowed to stay over. As a K-drama fan, I loved cute moments and wanted to recreate them with my boyfriend. He called me, and I sneaked into his bed, intending to sleep beside him innocently. But not long after, he sneaked his hand to my breast. I was in a light sleep and knew what he was doing but remained still, hoping he would stop. This wasn’t in my imagination of being intimate; I believed these things should come after marriage. But he didn't stop. He grabbed me under my clothes, and I couldn't control myself. I turned and kissed him, wanting romance, not lust. That’s how I lost my first kiss. My initiative was wrong; he saw it differently. I couldn't stop him after that. He was knowledgeable enough not to have sex, but he wouldn’t let me sleep whenever I was at his house.

Aliya Sana, the same name as mine, Amina Sana. Her beautiful face resembled an actress, and she had a beautiful voice. She was good at cooking too. He was still in contact with her. He gave me money and asked me to send it to her. I became frustrated, and after sending her the amount, I broke up with him. That wasn’t the first time he tried to make her jealous using me. I had strictly prohibited him from doing so. Lingering feelings of wrongdoing made me make those decisions. Maybe I had always been fascinated by him as someone pure and good, but he made me believe that no one is pure, and he was good for everyone else, not for me. I turned away from there.

The beginning is always good, but the ending makes us strong. After restless nights, not even a drop of tears flooded my eyes.

Living a meaningless life haunted me in my hostel room. Loneliness was overburdening me with its darkness, creeping into every corner of my mind. The silence was oppressive, a constant reminder of my solitude and the void left by my broken heart.

"The person who has hurt my son will never be happy!" The curse of his mother was still inside my ears, a haunting echo that replayed in my mind. Her words cut through my heart, amplifying my guilt and sorrow.

As I stared out of my window, the rain poured relentlessly, mirroring the storm inside me. It was mid-August, a time when the world outside should have been alive with the vibrancy of summer, but instead, it felt as desolate as my spirit. Yet, amidst this darkness, there was one belief that whatever Allah does, it's for the best. This belief was my only anchor, keeping me from being completely consumed by despair.

There were many questions regarding my breakup, questions that seemed to multiply with each passing day. Everyone was asking me why I even broke up with him. And the answer, in its simplicity, seemed almost absurd.

"I don't know... maybe I just need time for myself," I would say, but something was making me anxious inside. Sameer had let me go; he didn't even try to stop me. Maybe that feeling was of being dumped rather than dumping him. I knew he only loved me because of my studies. I was the first person from my home to study outside, and I was well-respected because of it. His ego didn't let him even hold my hand. That made me believe that except for the fact that I had long feelings for him, there was nothing to him. I had heard everyone taunting me: my sister who knew about it, Saniya, his parents, and him.

"I had thought at least you would not leave me!" he had said after not treating me well. His words were a cruel irony, a painful reminder of the disconnect between us.

On the day of independence, I had let the person go, making me independent of his thoughts. In the last stage of my teenage years, my first love all ended. It felt like the end of an era, a bittersweet farewell to the innocence of youth.

"Do I deserve it?"

"Should I just patch and live as if nothing happened to me?"

"But if I go any further, I will hurt myself!"

It was like, "Am I right or wrong?"

"Should I do it or not?"

"Is it all my fault to ask for his love?"

"Maybe it's my fault to even let that person close to me, ask for affection."

"He's the first person to show my shy side that no one had ever known, the first man to hold me, the first man to kiss me."

I was an introverted person who thought he would understand my muteness but he was also like others. He never understood me, and I was never able to tell him. "It was your fault that we broke up, It was all your fault." I wanted to scream this in his ears. But I felt too distant from him to even say anything. He would again say sorry, and I would forgive him. I remained silent, just the pains inside my chest.

From August to October, I locked myself in my room, not attending classes, and not even wanting to face anyone. Why bother to disturb others? No one's life would change even if I died. I used to weep not because of him but because of everyone. I was wrong in everyone's sight. My parents didn't even know what I was going through. Whenever I went home, I made my presence invisible as if I didn't exist. They didn't ask me what was the matter because they had made me strong enough to fight my situation. They believed in God and prayed for their child's well-being every day. They just thought to let me be; I needed time to overcome my situation. And I didn't let them down. I picked myself up again and again from the beginning as if nothing was bothering me. Maybe one day I will overcome it.

And I believed he should have loved me more than I loved him. This belief was a painful realization, a testament to the depth of my feelings and the shallow nature of his. The love I had offered him was pure, untainted by ulterior motives, and I had hoped for the same in return. But life, as I was learning, often had other plans.

The rain outside continued to pour, each drop a reminder of the tears I had shed. My room, my sanctuary, had become a prison of sorts, confining me within the walls of my despair. Yet, even in this darkness, I held onto the belief that Allah's plans were always for the best. This belief, though tested, remained my guiding light, leading me through the storm of my emotions.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The pain of my breakup began to dull, replaced by a newfound resilience. I started to attend classes again, forcing myself to engage with the world outside my room. It was a slow process, but with each step, I felt a little stronger, a little more in control of my destiny.

Looking back, I realized that my relationship with Sameer had been a chapter in my life's story, a chapter filled with lessons that I needed to learn. It had taught me about love, loss, and the importance of self-worth. It had shown me that sometimes, the people we love are not the ones who are meant to stay in our lives forever.

As the seasons changed, so did I. The rain gave way to the crispness of autumn, and with it, a sense of renewal. I began to see the beauty in my independence, the strength in my resilience. I started to believe that I deserved a love that was as deep and unwavering as my own.

And so, with each passing day, I continued to pick myself up, to face the world with renewed determination. I knew that my journey was far from over, but I also knew that I had the strength to face whatever lay ahead. Maybe one day, I would overcome it all.