Lovebirds

forty-five

Muslim weddings were very straight forward. It was often guised as complex and extravagant because of the culture that surrounded them, but in all honesty Naira always saw it as simple. There was no need for fancy decoration or a stage.

Her wedding day was a moment to celebrate, one to be shared with her loved ones as a new member of their family joined, a day where Rayan and Naira would be welcomed as husband and wife.

She was never one to be big with parties, and she wanted her wedding to be no exception to that trait.

As she stood in her bedroom with her wedding dress on, she could barely recognize the woman in the mirror. There she was, a sea green saree wrapping around her body in waves, an ocean's gaze rippling across layers of silk, shimmering amongst the light. Written across the edges of her saree was gold embroidery, lacing together into intricate roses and scintillating vines as they were woven into the depths of a sea, fabric heavy against her blouse. The wines rode up her sleeves as they bloomed into a garden of gold, eclipsing light as the thread formed a budding rose, floating among evergreen.

Her grandmother from her mother's side had the blouse custom made from Bangladesh along with the saree and veil that she had yet to put on. Naira couldn't remember the last time she wore something so traditional and vibrant, but she couldn't help the smile that was on her lips.

She looked beautiful. She felt beautiful.

"Naira," a soft voice called out to her. She turned, her saree twirling with her as her lashes fluttered with a sparkle in gaze. Her aunt and grandmother approached her, hands holding a veil that mirrored South Asian dreams. "Don't forget about this," said Aunt Dunya with a cheeky smile.

She let out a small laugh, allowing her aunt to pin the veil to her hijab. It felt like a crown on her head, the drape falling endlessly down her body and stretching across the ground. The color matched her saree with diamonds studded across every inch, silk elegance resting against her hijab as if she were a princess.

Warm arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her into a gentle embrace. Her grandmother's niqab was down since it was only them in the room, and her smile was as bright as starlight.

Her chest clenched at the palpitating flutters that sang across her skin as if her wedding was the lost melody that she had been searching for. In a way, that was what Rayan was, the missing piece in her puzzle of life.

So many roads were not taken and so much darkness lingered across the board, yet when she thought of his smile, of his voice, a new horizon glimmered in the distant, sunrise stretching in hues of orange and pink, mingling like an oil painting behind her eyes.

Marriage was part of the journey, not the whole thing.

Her grandmother rested her chin on Naira's shoulder, arms tight. "This brings back so many memories of your parents' wedding," she whispered in Bangla. A small laugh escaped her grandmother. "Even back then, they were two kindred souls who just understood each other so well that many of us stared in awe."

"But they weren't always like that," interjected Aunt Dunya as she fixed the pins on her veil. "It takes a lot of patience and work to get to that point. Marriage isn't easy."

"I know."

Aunt Dunya continued. "Getting married does not mean it's your happily ever after. There will be hard days, times where your husband will frustrate or anger you," she paused, her tone shifting into a softness that eased some of the tension Naira felt. "But there will be days that he'll make you so happy that you'll wonder how you could ever be upset with each other."

Her grandmother playfully rolled her eyes at her daughter. "Dunya, the honeymoon phase has passed for you," she teased.

"Oh please, Naira deserves to know the realities of married life. Be grateful that I didn't terrorize her with what it's like to have children."

Naira watches as her grandmother slapped her aunt's forearm, shooing her away. The laughter that filled the room brought a dewy glow to Naira's gold complexion, radiating a noor (light) that only came when surrounded by loved ones.

Her heart felt full as she watched them bicker, mother and daughter teasing and scolding each other. Ya Allah, how did I ever get so lucky?

Once they had calmed down, her grandmother reached for her again, squeezing her shoulders as she met Naira's gaze in the mirror, hazel eyes meeting the raw vulnerability of her darker ones. Just like her mother, her grandmother always knew the perfect thing to say.

"What we're trying to say is just like all relationships in life, this one will also take love and patience to nurture and grow it. Just as you actively strive to keep your relationship with Allah strong, you will also have to put effort in your marriage," she said. "You come from different worlds, Naira. However, embrace that and turn to Allah when it gets tough. Don't let those differences take control of the matters of your heart."

Her advice sounded so simple, so easy to follow that she nodded without any hesitation. Naira didn't know that some differences were a lot more baggage than others.

And not everyone had the patience to unpack them. Not without heartache.

- - - -
I got in a car accident today. It wasn't serious Alhamdulilah, but it was stressful.

I still wanted this chapter to come out. It felt like I needed this too. I missed you guys.

To be honest, I want to explore the internal conflicts between husband and wife in this book, especially since Naira and Rayan quite accurately come from two different perspectives.

*cough cough* foreshadowing.

But don't worry, we're still at the Nikkah arc ;)

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