"This is Zain," Fajr announced to the girl who was staring in bewilderment. "He's been drooling over you for the past hour!"
"That is not true."
"Um...I'm Sura." She reached out her hand and Zain shook it slowly, feeling the softness of her skin and...
They both made it through the ceremony and festivities, communicating only through stolen glances. Sura, who talks the most around Zain, had her lips pressed together throughout the entire day.
The only one more excited than the two of them was their best friend, Fajr. She had third-wheeled them since the day she had marched up to Zain and dragged her to Sura and introduced them.
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Sura was pacing the bedroom floor.
Zain's bedroom.
No, no. It was their bedroom now.
She had taken off some of her jewelry and managed to make her hair look presentable. The back of her head hurt from wearing her hijab all day and her toes felt so numb she thought they might fall off.
To pass the time she traced the embroidery at the end of her dress. She had gone for a traditional dress.
That veil was heavier than me, she thought to herself.
The dress touched the floor and, like the veil, it was lined with golden embroidery. Sura had never worn such a bold color, but red was still a classic in their small town.
Where is he, anyway? She added in her head, turning to the door.
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Zain sat on the sofa outside, tapping his foot unconsciously. He had no clue what to expect now.
Despite his gregarious personality, Sura had always been easy to talk to.
In the beginning, Sura did most of the talking and Fajr would occasionally tag along as well. But Zain and Sura had a different bond, a bond their friend Fajr had sensed long before either of them confessed to each other.
Come to think of it, she's the one I should be thanking, Zain thought as he grinned, recalling the day he had made his first friend. First two friends.
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