Echoes Behind The Veil

Author's note/Prologue/Aesthetic.

                    Author’s note

   Bismillahi  Arrahman Arrahim.

ASSALAMU ALAYKUM EVERYONE!

•It's your girl FARRAH, and I'm here with my new book, yes, you heard me right.

All I want from you is your support because I have been thinking about this book for a long period, although I already have some rough drafts typed, so I've decided I'm going to publish it now.

This book needs my whole attention.
So I hope you guys are all set and don't forget to come along with your Popcorn or Coke with you.

This book contains a lot of heartbreak, romance, love, and passion. Well and a lot more to follow.

Don't forget to vote, comment, share, and tag your fellow book lovers.
Because writing a book is not easy wlh.

A big shout out to all the writers out there though it's worth it.
Thank you so much Guys ❤️
Heart you a lot.

FARRAH BUKAR.

All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means of photocopying, recording, or without the prior permission of the writer.
You guys already know plagiarism or illegal sharing wouldn't be accepted.

And please this book is a work of fiction. So any similarities or an actual situation are completely coincidental. And all places, names, and locations are the imagination of the writer.

Enjoy Reading❤️

              

                          PROLOGUE.

The slam of the door echoed through the house like a final verdict.

Maryam stood with her back straight and her gaze cold, her scarf slightly askew from the motion, her chest rising and falling with the storm she barely contained. Zayd didn’t flinch, but the corner of his jaw tightened a barely visible shift, except to someone who’d been watching him for days like a hawk stalking its prey.

"You think marriage is enough to buy peace?" she said, her voice quiet but sharp, slicing through the silence. "You think dragging me into your home, into your life, can erase what you've done?"

Zayd turned slowly, folding his sleeves to his elbows. Always calm. Like water. Or ice.

"I didn’t drag you into anything, Maryam," he said. "This was"

"Don’t say it," she interrupted. "Don’t you dare say it was Allah’s will. Don’t use His name to justify your selfishness."

He sighed, the kind of breath that carried months of buried ache. "You don’t know everything."

"I know enough," she snapped. "Enough to know that you will never have peace in this house.

Zayd said nothing, only that Silence fell between them. The heavy kind that doesn’t simply fill a room it suffocates it.

Outside, the call to the Asr prayer rang out softly.

He released the long breath he had held and walked past her without saying a word.

It has been a month now since Zayd got married to Maryam.

But not once had they shared a peaceful meal or moment.

Not once had she looked at Zayd as her husband.

But for him, he was not bothered; all he cared about was that he was married to her, and everything would come to pass.