The tomorrow was finally here.
It is six in the morning, I have woken up already brushed my teeth, washed my face four times, looked at the mirror a gazillion times, paced around the room, talked to myself (a Lot of times) and finally decided to seat down on my window seat, looking out at the lawn.
I liked the green of the garden, and the combination of pink and yellow for the flowers. But will I like the combination of me and Adnan together?
How will he be like? This was one thought that was there through my mind the entire night that I couldn’t even sleep.
Will he be a raging alcoholic? Will he be having a paunch at a such a young age? Will he like me? Or am I going to be mediocre to him?
I just couldn’t picture him, because whenever I picture a man in my head I only picture Ian Somerhalder. There is no one that can ever take his place. Now imagine reaching up to those expectations, it’s very hard.
It suddenly clicked that if all this turns out fine I am going to get married
I stood up, and jumped around the room
I am going to get married! I am finally going to experience a relationship with no limitations.
I jumped up and down on the bed, I am finally going to have a man in my life. My man.
My man.
It sounded so amazing, I couldn’t stop thinking it. My man.
A man that belonged to me. My man.
He will have my mark on him. My man
My man
My man
I started singing it out loud to get used to the idea but I just cant. All through, showering I kept saying my man, my man. What can I say? I couldn’t help it
After showering I took out a notebook and a pen and wrote down A man that is mine.
Now it sounded like he was a toy. Wasn’t he though?
With that thought in mind I laughed out loud. It was kind of funny though, I had to admit it. I had a big goofy grin when I went downstairs to get breakfast.
No one was awake at this time, not even mum.
I already started feeling responsible. I am going to be someone’s wife.
I am going to belong to someone.
Someone is going to mark me.
That suddenly just sounded creepy, now that it was directed to me I guess.
But what if he liked some kind of foods and I don’t know how to cook them? What if he liked frogs? Or worse things like Pumpkin doughnuts. Things that didn’t exist in reality and I am forced to cook them. God, What if he makes me eat them too.
Don’t think about that, I chastised myself. It was all too horrid to be thinking of all this early in the morning.
What am I going to do?
God, I am so afraid
“What’s eating you?” My mum stood on the doorway a knowing smile on her face, with her hair bundled up In a messy bun as always whenever she woke up in the morning.
“I’m afraid Mama, What if he doesn’t like me?”
“He’ll be stupid if all he is looking at is the face,” Mom walked to the coffee machine turning it on, adding more water to it. “I know that your face looks like a cow’s but you have a golden heart”
“Mama!”
She chuckled and looked at me with those wise knowing eyes of hers that made me feel like I was two years old learning how to walk again. Always needing her hand to guide my way.
“Looks don’t matter darling, and even if you did look like a cow then a person wouldn’t help but love you anyway. And if he judges a book by its cover, then he is not worth marrying you”
I went and kept my arms around her waist, “You are the best Mama, thank you,”
“You too darling,” She patted my cheek, “That is why now that you are awake you are going to help me load everyone’s laundry and keep them in the machine,”
“But Mama…”
“Don’t forget not to keep a lot of detergent,” With that she took her smoking hot coffee mug and newspaper and walked out the door leaving me gaping at her.
Why did I have to wake up at this time
Just as I was about to stomp my foot and walk to start taking Ibrahim’s laundry I heard my mom’s voice from the living room, “Now don’t start stomping those feet of yours, you are going to be married soon and that is not a very responsible manner”
I gritted my teeth and went slowly up the stairs, and all the way up I could almost see my mum’s smug smile while slowly seeping her coffee
YOU ARE READING
The Journey
RomanceMarriage. Marriage. Marriage That is all that Samara (AKA Seven) thinks about since she was fifteen years old. This was normal for any Arabian girl, as they mostly get married at such a young age altogether. But Sev is most probably close to the...
