Stuck in a Pallu

Chapter 13: The Marriage of Sajid and Sameera

The nikah was small, intimate, and perfect.

It took place in a quiet corner hall in Triplicanennothing grand, just enough fairy lights, marigolds, and the soft hum of family voices. No elaborate stages, no massive guest lists. Just the people who mattered.

The Khan family came in full force: Ammi-ji crying happy tears the moment she saw Sameera in her bridal attire, Abbu-ji placing a gentle hand on her head and murmuring duas, Aisha squealing and hugging her so tightly the jhumkas swung against Sameera’s neck. The Iqbal Ahmed family (her “original” parents) arrived with the same warmth fake only in paper, real in every hug and blessing.

Sajid stood tall in cream sherwani with gold zari, beard neatly oiled, eyes locked on Sameera from the moment she entered.

She wore midnight-blue georgette elegant, flowing, silver zari embroidery catching every light like stars. The blouse was fitted, deep neckline showing just the right amount of cleavage; the saree draped low on her hips, thin midriff band gleaming. Heavy bridal jewellery: layered gold necklace with sapphire pendant nestling between her breasts, long jhumkas brushing her neck, twenty-four glass bangles each wrist, thick upper-arm gold bangles, waist chain visible when she moved, permanent gold anklets chiming softly, nose pin, maang tikka, large red bindi. Makeup flawless: winged kohl, rose-gold shimmer, deep scarlet lips, fresh mogra gajra woven into the braid.

When their eyes met across the hall, the world narrowed to just them.

The qazi’s voice was steady.

Sajid said “Qubool hai” three times clear, firm, voice cracking only on the last one.

Sameera whispered her “Qubool hai” back trembling slightly, but sure.

The document was signed.

Witnesses stamped.

They were married.

Again.

But this time for real.

The families wept openly.

Ammi-ji (rahim) hugged Sameera so tightly she could barely breathe. “My beti is happy now. Finally.”

Abbu-ji (Iqbal family) placed a hand on Sajid’s shoulder. “Take care of our daughter.”

Aisha cried happy tears, clinging to Sameera’s saree. “You’re not leaving us, right? You’ll visit?”

Sameera kissed her forehead. “Always, jaan.”

The evening ended with quiet dinnerbbiryani, kebabs, sweets laughter, blessings, and more tears.

Then they left.

Together.

To the old flat in Triplicane.

The one that used to belong to Saad and Safiya.

Now it belonged to Sajid and Sameera.

They stepped inside door clicking shut behind them.

The silence was thick.

Neither spoke for a long moment.

Then Sajid stepped closebcupped her face with both hands.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “Always have been.”

She smiled small, shy, real.

“So are you.”

He kissed her slow, reverent lips brushing, then opening, tongues meeting in gentle exploration. Months of longing poured into that kiss.

Hands moved.

He unhooked her blouse slowly, reverently revealing the midnight-blue lace bra, the deep cleavage, the way her breasts rose with every quick breath.

She unbuttoned his sherwani pushed it off his shoulders, hands roaming over the broad chest she had come to know so well.

Clothes fell away saree unwound in whispering folds, petticoat untied, bra unhooked, panty slid down.

They stood nakedbbodies changed, yet familiar.

He lifted her carried her to the bed the same bed they had once shared as Saad and Safiya.

Laid her down gently.

He was fully erect thick, hard, straining upward.

(Sajid had paid a visit to Dr.Arif once....)

She looked at it eyes wide, curious, a little nervous.

Then she leaned forward took him in her mouth.

Slow at firstblips wrapping around the head, tongue swirling, tasting him. He groaned deep, guttural hands fisting in the sheets.

She moved deeper, steadier head bobbing, cheeks hollowing, one hand wrapping around the base to stroke what her mouth couldn’t reach. The other hand cupped his balls gentle, rolling them softly.

He watched her eyes dark with want beard shadowed, chest rising fast.

“Sameera…” he groaned.

She hummed around him vibration making him buck.

He didn’t last long.

He warned her voice roughbbut she didn’t pull away.

He came hot, pulsing spilling down her throat.

She swallowed slow, careful then licked him clean.

He pulled her up kissed her deeply tasting himself on her tongue.

Then he turned her gentle but firm onto her hands and knees.

Doggy style.

He positioned himself behind her hands on her hips, thumbs spreading her cheeks slightly.

The prosthetic vagina parted smooth, warm, realistic.

He pushed in slow inch by inch feeling the tight grip, the slick heat.

She gasped back arching, breasts swaying beneath her.

He thrust steady, deep hips rolling, hands gripping her waist.

She pushed back meeting every stroke moaning softly, anklets chiming with each movement.

The pleasure was different feminine, deep, building in waves rather than sharp spikes but it was real.

She felt fullbstretchedbevery thrust brushing places that made her tremble.

He reached around fingers finding the silicone clit circling gently.

She cried out body clenching around him.

He sped up harder, deeper breath ragged.

When he came again hot, pulsing inside her she shattered too waves of pleasure rolling through her, body shaking, soft cries escaping.

They collapsed togethernsweaty, spent, tangled.

He stayed inside her softening slowly arms wrapped around her from behind.

They lay like that breathing in sync for a long time.

Then she whispered:

“How do we reverse after this?”

He kissed the back of her neck.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Part of me doesn’t want to.”

She turned in his arms looked at him.

“Me neither.”

They kissed again slow, tender.

No answers.

Just the truth:

They liked this.

They liked each other like this.

And tomorrow they would face whatever came next.

But tonight…

Tonight they were simply married.

Happy.

Whole.

And that was enough.