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 only five, and from that moment on, her father changed. He became bitter, resentful, and cruel—especially to her. He never called her by her name; he called her “that thing.” He didn’t want her at the table during family meals or anywhere near when visitors came over. He believed she was cursed. And when Zainab turned 21, she made a decision that would shatter what little remained of her already broken heart.

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One morning, her father entered her small room where Zainab sat silently, running her fingers over the braille pages of an old, worn book. He dropped a folded piece of cloth into her lap. “You’re getting married tomorrow,” he said curtly. Zainab froze. The words made no sense. Married? To whom?

“He’s a church beggar,” her father continued. “You’re blind. He’s poor. A good match for you.” She felt as if the blood had drained from her face. She wanted to scream, but no sound came out. She had no choice. Her father never gave her any.

The next day, she was married in a small, hurried ceremony. Of course, she never saw his face—and no one dared describe it to her. Her father pushed her toward the man and told her to take his arm. She obeyed like a ghost trapped in her own body. People chuckled, whispering, “The blind woman and the beggar.”

After the ceremony, her father handed her a small bag with some clothes and pushed her toward the man once more. “Now it’s your problem,” he said—and walked away without looking back.

The beggar, whose name was Yusha, silently led her along the path. He didn’t say anything for a long time. They came to a small, dilapidated hut on the edge of the village. It smelled of damp earth and smoke. “It’s not much,” Yusha said gently. “But you’ll be safe here.” She sat down on the old mat inside, holding back her 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 very first night. Yusha made her tea with gentle hands. He gave her her own serape and slept by the door, like a guard dog protecting its queen. He spoke to her as if he truly cared—asking her what stories she liked, what dreams she had, what foods made her smile. No one had ever asked her such things before. The days turned into weeks. Yusha took 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 his words. He sang to her while she did the laundry, and at night he told her stories about the stars and faraway lands. She laughed for the first time in years. Her heart began to open. And in that strange little hut… something unexpected happened: Zainab fell in love.

One afternoon, as she reached out her hand, she asked him, “Were you always a beggar?” He hesitated. Then he said softly, “I wasn’t always like this.” But he never said anything more, and Zainab didn’t press the issue.

She went to the market alone to buy vegetables. Yusha had given her careful directions, and she memorized every step. But halfway there, someone grabbed her arm violently. “Blind rat!” a voice spat. It was her sister—  Sofia . “Are you still alive? Still pretending to be a beggar’s wife?” Zainab felt tears welling up, but she held her composure. “I’m happy,” she said. Sofia laughed cruelly. “You don’t even know what he looks like. He’s trash—just like you.” Then she whispered something that shattered her heart: “He’s not a beggar, Zainab. You’ve been lied to.”

Zainab staggered home, confused. She waited until nightfall, and when Yusha returned, she asked him 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.” Her heart pounded in her chest. He took a deep breath. “I’m not a beggar. I’m the son of the  Chief of the Community (Cacique) .”

Zainab’s world began to spin as she processed his words. “I am the Cacique’s son.” She tried to regulate her breathing, trying to understand what she had just heard. Her mind relived every moment they had shared—his kindness, his quiet strength, the vividness of his stories that seemed too rich for a mere beggar. Now she understood why. He had never been a beggar. Her father hadn’t married her off to a beggar—unwittingly, he had married her off to royalty disguised in rags. She withdrew her hands, took a step back, and asked—her voice trembling:

“Why? Why did you let me believe you were a beggar?” Yusha stood, his voice calm but heavy with emotion. “Because I wanted someone to see me—not my wealth, not my title, just me. Someone pure. Someone whose love wasn’t bought or forced. You were everything I prayed for, Zainab.” She sat down, her legs too weak to support her. Her heart was a battle between anger and love. Why hadn’t he told her? Why had he let her think she’d been discarded like trash? 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 be rid of you.” Tears streamed down Zainab’s cheeks. The pain of her father’s rejection mingled with disbelief that anyone had come this far—only to find a heart like his. She didn’t know what to say. So she simply asked, “And now? What happens now?” Yusha gently took her hand. “Now, you’re coming with me. To my world. To the palace.” Her heart leaped. “But I’m blind… how can I be a princess?” He smiled. “You already are, my princess.”

That night, she barely slept. Her thoughts raced—her father’s cruelty, Yusha’s love, and the terrifying uncertainty of what the future held. In the morning, a royal carriage pulled up in front of the hut. Guards in black and gold bowed to Yusha and Zainab as they stepped out. Zainab clung tightly to Yusha’s arm as the carriage began its journey to the palace. By the time they arrived, a crowd had already gathered. They were shocked by the return of the long-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 curtsied respectfully. Yusha stood by her side and declared, “This is my wife. The woman I chose. The woman who saw my soul when no one else could.”

The Matriarch remained silent for a moment. Then she stepped forward and embraced Zainab. “So she is my daughter,” she said. Zainab nearly collapsed with relief. Yusha squeezed her hand and whispered, “I told you, you’re safe.” That evening, as they settled into their room in the palace, Zainab stood by the window, listening to the sounds of the royal grounds. Her entire life had changed in a single day. She was no longer “that thing” locked away in a dark room. She was a wife, a princess, a woman who had been loved not for her looks or beauty, but for her soul. And though peace filled that moment, something dark still lingered in her heart—the shadow of her father’s hatred. She knew 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. Yet, for the first time, she did not feel small. She felt powerful.

The next morning, she was summoned to court, where nobles and leaders had gathered. Some sneered as she entered with Yusha, but she held her head high. Then came the unexpected turn of events. Yusha stood before them and declared, “I will not be crowned until my wife is accepted and honored in this palace. And if she is not, then I will leave with her.” Gasps and murmurs filled the room. Zainab felt her heart pound as she gazed at him. He had already given everything for her. “Would you renounce the throne for me?” she whispered. He looked at her with fierce passion in his eyes. “I already did it once. I would do it again.” The Matriarch stood. “Then let it be known—from this day forward, Zainab is not only your wife. She is Princess Zainab of the Royal House. Anyone who disrespects her, disrespects the crown.”

And with those words, the room fell silent. Zainab’s heart pounded—no longer out of fear, but out of strength. She knew her life would continue to change, but now, it would happen on her 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—only for the love in her heart.

News of Zainab’s acceptance as princess spread quickly throughout the kingdom. The nobles, initially puzzled by the new princess’s blindness, began to see beyond her disability. What Zainab had demonstrated—through her dignity, her strength, and above all, her unconditional love for Yusha—made many who had previously doubted her begin to respect her. But life in the palace would not be easy. Although Zainab had found her place beside Yusha, the challenges were many. The royal court was a place filled with intrigue, ambition, and people who saw Zainab as a threat to tradition. Whispers filled the palace halls, and not all the looks she received were kind. However, Zainab had learned to see the world differently. Although her eyes could not see, she could perceive people’s intentions—through tone of voice, body language, and the weight of silence.

One afternoon, as she strolled through the palace gardens with Yusha by her side, Zainab reflected on all she had experienced. Despite the growing efforts to accept her, something still gnawed at her—a feeling of not being fully welcome. It wasn’t just his blindness—it was something deeper, tied to her past and the life she had been forced to leave behind. “Sometimes I feel like I still haven’t truly been accepted,” she admitted to Yusha, leaning on his 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 are always enough. You are not just my wife—you are the woman I love with all my heart.” Zainab stopped and turned to face him. Though she couldn’t see his face, his voice was all she needed. The calmness in his words made her feel safe, even though the echo of rejection still lingered in her heart.

“I know it won’t be easy,” she continued. “My father never accepted who I am. And now, here in this palace, I’m afraid they’ll only see me because of my blindness… because of my past. Sometimes, I don’t know if I deserve all of this.” Yusha leaned closer, 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’re 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 truly was, regardless of her appearance, her blindness, or her past. His love was a force that filled her with confidence. In that moment, Zainab made a decision: She would not allow the court’s prejudice or the memory of her father to define her. She would not simply be the prince’s wife or the blind princess. She would be so much more.

She would become the woman who transformed the palace from within—a woman who would demonstrate 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. She used her voice, her wisdom, and her profound sensitivity to change the perceptions of the nobles—not with harsh words, but with actions. During court meetings, she made it her mission to listen to each noble, understand their concerns, and seek solutions that would benefit everyone. Gradually, she began to earn the people’s respect—not for her title, but for her heart and her ability to unite them.

By her side, Yusha supported her every step of the way. Although he was the prince, he never hesitated to share the spotlight with Zainab. He understood that his true role was to walk beside her, respecting and loving her for who she was. Over time, Zainab grew stronger and more confident. She realized that the acceptance she had been seeking didn’t come from others, but from within herself. And so, as the years passed, Zainab ceased to be merely 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 with light—not from riches or the power of the crown, but from Zainab’s authenticity. She had found what she had always longed for: a place in the world where she wasn’t seen for what she lacked, but for what she had to offer. Yusha, always by her side, was her 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 isn’t built on appearances—but on the deep connection between two hearts. The End