Saudi Royal Woman Was Tied to a Railway For Being Unable To Have Children until Jesus Saved Her

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The Story of Princess Nor al-Hadid

My name is Princess Nor al-Hadid, and I have lived a life that many would envy—a life of luxury, royal privileges, and wealth beyond imagination. But beneath the glittering facade of my existence, I faced a darkness that threatened to consume me. I was tied to a railway by my own husband, a man who believed my worth was solely defined by my ability to bear children. At 25 years old, my life was supposed to end on cold steel tracks in the middle of the Saudi desert.

Born into a royal family, I was raised in opulence, surrounded by treasures that most people only dream of. Yet, despite my royal lineage, my life was reduced to one singular expectation: to produce heirs. In my world, a woman’s value was measured by her ability to give birth to sons. When I married my husband, one of the wealthiest men in the kingdom, he envisioned a dynasty—a legacy of princes who would carry on his name. But month after month, year after year, I failed to conceive.

Doctors found nothing wrong. Specialists confirmed my health was perfect. But in a society where a man’s infertility is an unthinkable notion, the blame fell squarely on my shoulders. I became the source of shame for my husband, the woman who could not fulfill her duty. As the whispers grew louder, so did my husband’s contempt. He stopped calling me his wife and began referring to me as his mistake.

One fateful night, he decided that my failure to bear children warranted a punishment. He told me we were going for a drive, but instead, he took me deep into the desert. There, in a desolate place where trains passed at full speed, he and his accomplices tied me to the railway tracks. “If you cannot give me children, you do not deserve to live,” he said, walking away and leaving me to await my fate.

As I lay there, the cold metal pressing against my back, I felt a profound sense of despair. The silence of the desert enveloped me, broken only by the distant sound of a train horn. My heart raced as I realized the gravity of my situation. I was about to die, not in a palace surrounded by loved ones, but alone, abandoned like a worthless object.

Tears streamed down my face as I thought of my life—of my childhood, of my mother brushing my hair, of the gardens in our palace where laughter once echoed. I closed my eyes, whispering a prayer, not for my life, but for the strength to face death. “God, if you are real, please save me.”

Then, something extraordinary happened. The air around me shifted, becoming heavy with a presence I had never felt before. A light enveloped me, brighter than the sun, and in that moment, I felt a warmth that wrapped around my body like a protective embrace. I opened my eyes to see a figure standing beside the tracks—Jesus. His eyes were filled with compassion, and he knelt beside me, saying, “Do not be afraid. I have come to bring you life.”

As the train thundered toward me, I felt the ropes around my wrists dissolve into dust. I rolled off the tracks just in time, the train rushing past, its wind tearing at my clothes. I was alive. Jesus had saved me.

In the days that followed, I was found by a patrol that had seen my movement near the tracks. They took me back to the palace, where my husband was waiting. He dismissed the guards and closed the doors behind us. “You survived,” he said, not with relief, but irritation. I realized then that he had never truly loved me; I was merely a means to an end.

As the weeks passed, I became a prisoner in my own home. My husband’s contempt grew, and I was watched constantly. He brought doctors to examine me again and again, all while I secretly clung to my faith in Jesus. I had discovered the Bible hidden in the palace, and it became my lifeline. I read about the miracles of Jesus, the love he had for the broken, and the hope he offered.

But my husband was not blind to the changes in me. He noticed the light in my eyes, the strength in my voice. One evening, he confronted me, demanding to know what had changed. I looked him in the eye and said, “I am no longer afraid of you. I belong to Christ.”

His face twisted in anger, and I knew I had crossed a line. But I also knew that I was no longer alone. With every prayer, with every verse I memorized, I felt the presence of Jesus guiding and protecting me.

As my pregnancy progressed, I felt the weight of my situation grow heavier. I was no longer just fighting for my life; I was fighting for my child. I prayed fervently for protection, for strength, for a way out. The fear of my husband’s wrath loomed over me like a dark cloud, but I refused to let it extinguish the light that had been ignited within me.

Then, one day, a nurse named Miriam entered my life. She was gentle and kind, and she whispered words of encouragement in my ear. “Jesus is with you,” she said, and I believed her. She helped me devise a plan to escape the palace, to flee the life that had become a prison.

On the night of my escape, I felt a mixture of fear and hope. With Miriam’s help, I disguised myself and slipped out of the palace under the cover of darkness. We moved swiftly, crossing borders and evading guards. Each step felt like a leap of faith, and I clung tightly to my son, knowing that I was fighting for his future.

Finally, we reached a safe house where I was welcomed with open arms. The warmth of the community filled my heart with joy. I was no longer just Princess Nor al-Hadid; I was simply Nor, a woman who had fought against the odds and emerged victorious.

As I held my son, I realized that my past did not define me. I was free to choose my future, to raise him in a world where he could be loved and cherished. I had been saved not just from death, but from a life of fear and shame. I had been given a second chance, and I was determined to make the most of it.

In the months that followed, I embraced my new identity as a mother and a believer. I shared my story with others, inspiring women who felt trapped and powerless. I taught them about the light that had saved me, the love that had transformed my life.

Every night, as I prayed with my son, I thanked Jesus for the miracle of his life and for the freedom I had found. I knew that I would never return to the shadows of my past. I was no longer defined by my ability to bear sons; I was defined by the love of Christ that had set me free.

And so, my journey continued, not as a princess bound by expectations, but as a woman empowered by faith, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. I had learned that true royalty is not found in titles or wealth, but in the strength of one’s spirit and the love that guides us through the darkest of times.