By Mohammad Jafar Niazi
Zahra from Panjshir fell in Love
I am Zahra, 25 years old from Panjshir, but now living in Kabul. From the outside, everything seems calm and orderly, but I was caught in a secret love—a love that gripped my heart every single day.
That boy was a close relative of ours. His family had come to our home many times, but we never had the chance to speak openly. Until the day I found his Instagram page and sent him a message:
“Hello, I am Zahra.”
He replied:
“How did you send this message?”
My heart trembled and I thought, “May no one find out…” This became the start of a hidden relationship: nightly messages, daytime calls under the pretext of going out, and silent waiting by the kitchen window just to see him.
The Family chose someone else
For about two years this went on. Our relationship was behind a secret SIM card, affection grew day by day, but nothing was official, and I lived in a room full of secrets and anxiety.
Later, he decided to go to Iran to earn money for our wedding. Days passed with me watching and waiting until a message came:
“I was expelled from Iran.”
For a moment I felt alive again—my love had come back.
But everything changed when, in the summer of 2024, my family, without any warning, decided to marry me off to a wealthy man—someone whose family lived in America and whose father had cooperated with American forces. I cried out:
“I love someone else…”
But they said:
“You must marry the person we choose.”
Whose voice would answer that? My heart broke.
The Night of Death
On the wedding night, it wasn’t a celebration but an end to hope. I called that night “the night of death,” the night of going under a roof that held no space for my feelings. I appeared with a smile, but inside I felt just as cold and lifeless.
Now several months have passed. I play the role of a happy wife, but inside I know I’m empty. Sometimes, without anyone knowing, I inquire about him— but there is no news. Every day I grow used to it, because I believe even people can become accustomed to pain.
If time could go back even once, I would choose without hesitation: life with that secret love of mine, despite all the hardships. Because I have realized that nothing—neither wealth nor apparent comfort—can replace real feeling.
This is my message:
To families: A daughter’s consent must be the first condition of marriage. True love brings lasting warmth, not merely assets or status.
To young women: If you are pressured for a forced marriage, stand tall. Do not remain silent. Your precious feelings deserve to be heard, and no material possession can replace true love.
Editorial note: This is a real story whose main characters need to hide their identities for safety reasons.
