Her father married her off because she seemed blind and what happened next left everyone speechless.

Zaiпab Paca had seen the world, but she felt her credibility with every breath she took. She was born blind into a family that valued beauty above all else.

Their two sisters were admired for their captivating eyes and elegant figure, while he treated Zaipab like a burden, a shameful secret kept secret. Their mother died when she was only five, and from then on, their father changed. He became bitter, resentful, and cruel, especially toward her. He never called her by her name; he called her “that thing.” He didn’t want her around the family mealtime table whenever visitors arrived. She believed she was cursed, and when Zaipab turned 21, she made the decision that she would destroy what was left of her already broken heart.

One morning, her father entered the small room where Zaipab was seated quietly, ran his fingers over the Braille pages of a worn old book, and placed a folded piece of cloth on her lap.

“You’re getting married tomorrow,” he said tersely. Zaipab froze. The words didn’t make any sense to her. Getting married? What?

“He’s the medic from the little mosque,” ​​her father said. “You’re blind, he’s poor. He’s a big game for you.” She felt as if blood had run down her face. She wanted to scream, but nothing came out of her mouth. She had no choice. Her father gave her choices.

The next day, she was married in a brief and hasty ceremony. Of course, she saw her face, and no one dared to describe it to her. Her father pushed her towards the man and told her to take his arm. She obeyed like a ghost in her own body. They all laughed secretly, muttering: “The blind woman and the beggar.” After the ceremony, her father gave her a small bag with clothes and pushed her towards the man.

“Now that’s your problem,” he said and walked away without looking back.

The healer, named Yūsha, led her silently along the road. He didn’t say anything for a while. They arrived at a small, ramshackle shack on the outskirts of the village. It smelled of wet earth and smoke.

“It’s not much,” Yūsha said in a low voice. “But you’ll be safe here.” She sat on the old mat outside, wiping away her tears. This was her life now. A blind girl married with a mud hut and hope, she told me.

But something strange happened that first night.

Yūsha delicately prepared the tea. He gave her his coat and slept by the door, like a guard dog protecting its queen. He spoke to her as if he really cared: he asked her what stories she liked, what dreams she had, what foods made her laugh. No one had ever asked her anything like that before.

The days became weeks. Joshua would accompany her to the river every morning, describing the sun, the birds, the trees, with such poetry that Zaipab began to feel she could see them through his words. He would watch her while she washed clothes and tell her stories of stars and distant lands at night. She laughed for the first time in years. Her heart began to open. And in that strange little cabin, something unexpected happened: Zaipab fell in love.

One afternoon, as she took his hand, she asked him: “Have you always been like me?” He said. Then she said in a low voice: “It hasn’t always been like this.” But she didn’t say anything else. And Zaipab didn’t persist.

Until that day.

She went to the market alone to buy vegetables. Yushcha had given her precise instructions, and she memorized every step. But halfway there, someone violently grabbed her arm.

“Blind rat!” the voice snapped. It was her sister, Amipa. “Are you still alive? Are you still meant to be this guy’s wife?” Zaipab felt tears welling up in her eyes, but she remained steadfast.

“I’m happy,” he said.

Amiпah laughed cruelly. “You don’t even know what he looks like. He’s trash. Just like you.”

And then something happened that broke her heart.

—It’s not you, I tell you. Zai’ab, he’s messed with you.

Zaipab stumbled home, confused. She waited until nightfall, and when YŅsha returned, she asked him again, but firmly this time. “Tell me the truth. Who are you really?”

And then he knelt down before her, took her hands, and said, “I knew you would know. But I can’t leave you now.”

His heart was beating rapidly.

He breathed deeply.

I’m not a son, I tell myself. I’m the Emir’s son.

Zaipab’s mind reeled as she processed Yushcha’s words. “I am the Emir’s son.” She had to control her breathing, comprehend what she had just heard. She replayed every moment they had shared: her goodness, her serious strength, her stories, too vivid for a mere meme, and now this is why. He had never been a meme. Her father had married her off as a meme, as a royal in rags.

He took his hands away from hers, took a step back, and asked in a trembling voice, “Why? Why did you make me believe you were a witch?”

Yūsha stood, her voice quiet but heavy with emotion. “Because I wanted someone to see me, my wealth, my title, just me. Someone. Someone whose love wasn’t bought or forced. You were everything I ever dreamed of, Zaipāb.”

She sat down, her legs too weak to support her. Her heart was torn between pleasure and love. Why had she told him? Why had she let him believe he had discarded her like garbage? Joshua knelt beside her. “I didn’t mean you any harm. I came to the village in disguise because I was sick of pretenders who loved the thing but not the man. I heard about the blind girl who was rejected by her father.” I watched you from afar for weeks before I proposed marriage to you through your father, disguised as a witch. I knew you would accept because you wanted to be rid of you.

Tears streamed down Zaipab’s cheeks. The pain of her father’s rejection mingled with disbelief that someone would go so far just to find a heart like hers. She didn’t know what to say, so she simply asked, “What now? What happens next?”

Yυsha took his hand gently. “Now you come with me, in my way, to the palace.”

Her heart sank. “But I’m blind. How can I be a princess?”

He irritates me. “You already are, my princess.”

That night he barely slept. His sorrows revolved around his father’s cruelty, the love of Joshua, and the terrifying uncertainty of the future. Early in the morning, the royal carriage arrived at the cottage. Guards dressed in black and gold greeted Joshua and Zaipab as they left. Zaipab held Joshua’s arm tightly as the carriage headed for the palace.

When they arrived, the multitude was already gathered. They were surprised by the return of the lost prince, but even more surprised to see him as a blind girl. Joshua’s mother, the Queen, made way for the front, her eyes narrowed as she regarded Zayappan. But Zayappan bowed respectfully. Joshua stood by her and declared, “This is my wife, the woman I chose, the woman my soul saw when she could do more.”

The Queen remained silent for a moment, then stepped forward and hugged Zaipab. “So she is my daughter,” she said. Zaipab nearly fainted with relief. Yushcha squeezed her hand and whispered, “I told you, you are safe.”

That night, as she settled into her room in the palace, Zaipab stood by the window, listening to the sounds of the royal complex. Her life had changed completely in just one day. She was no longer “that thing” locked in that dark room. She was a wife, a princess, a woman who had been loved not for her body or her beauty, but for her soul. And although that moment of peace felt like relief, something dark still lingered in her heart: the shadow of her father’s hatred. She knew that the world would not accept her easily, that the court would close its eyes and mock her blindness, and that enemies would emerge from within the palace walls. Yet for the first time, she did not feel small. She felt powerful.

The next morning she was summoned to court, where the people and leaders had gathered. Some mocked her as she approached Joshua, but she held her head high. Then the unexpected turn occurred. Joshua presented himself to them and declared: “I will not be crowned until my wife is accepted and honored in this palace. And if she is not, I will go with her.”

The butterflies filled the room. Zaipab felt her heart pound as she looked at him. He had already given everything for her. “Would you give up the throne for me?” she gasped.

He looked at her with fierce passion in his eyes. “I did it once. I’d do it again.”

The Queen stood up. “Let it be clear, from today on, Zaipab is not just my wife. She is Princess Zaipab of the Royal House. Anyone who disrespects her is disrespecting the Crown.”

And with those words, the room fell silent. Zaipab’s heart beat strongly, but no longer out of fear, but out of strength. She knew her life would change, but now it would do so on her own terms. She would no longer be a shadow, but a woman who had found her place in the world. And the best part was that, for the first time, she had nothing but to be seen for her beauty. Only for the love that was in her heart.