Nikkah

41

Humairah and Aisha, Zoya's cousins, worked around the house, preparing the wedding arrangements, which was tomorrow.

Meanwhile, Aryaan sought solace in his work, in hope it would distract him from the reality that threatened to shatter his world.

In the quiet refuge of his study, his gaze drifted to his phone, and he checked the calendar. Tomorrow, Zoya would be gone, forever out of his reach.

The thought weighed heavily on his heart, like an anchor dragging him down into the depths of despair.

He sighed, his shoulders sagging.

The soft glow of the desk lamp cast shadows on his face, accentuating the lines of tension etched on his features.

Just then, Zarah entered the room. Her burgeoning belly, visible beneath her clothing, reminded him of the life they were building together—a life that seemed to be pulling him further away from Zoya.

As she settled beside him on the couch, resting her head against his chest, his expression softened. He offered her a small smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. For a moment, the world outside receded, and all that mattered was the warmth of her presence.

Yet, even as he wrapped his arms around her, his thoughts went back on Zoya, his heart heavy with longing for her.

"Let's do something fun tomorrow," she whispered, her breath tickling his ear.

"Like what?" he asked curiously, and her eyes sparkled because she didn't expect he would agree immediately.

"Let's spend the day outside, doing lots of activities." Her gaze drifted to his lips, and she cupped his cheeks, her touch sending shivers down his spine.

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners mischievously. "Okay."

He leaned in, and her eyes lowered to his lips once more, her lashes fluttering.

"Have you had dinner?" he asked in a husky voice.

She nodded, her face tilting up with an unspoken invitation in her eyes.

"Are you feeling okay? I hope the baby isn't bothering you."

Her eyes shone with affection. "It's an honour carrying our child," she whispered. "It's a symbol of our love." She leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a gentle kiss.

But he wasn't satisfied with just a delicate touch.

Tomorrow was arriving—Zoya's wedding—a persistent reminder of what he couldn't have. He needed something to distract him, to consume him, and so he claimed her lips again, his kiss hungry and intense.

His fingers traced her neck, shoulders, and waist, sending shudders in her body. As he caressed her breasts, her breath caught, and a soft moan escaped her lips.

"Ahh..." she whispered delightedly with pleasure.

His hands drifted lower, tracing her hips and slipping under her skirt. Her pulse quickened while her body arched into his touch.

"Aryaan," she breathed, her eyes closing in ecstasy.

He tugged out her skirt, exposing the soft skin beneath.

His palms glided up her legs, sending waves of pleasure through her veins.

Their kiss deepened, and he too unzipped his trousers, craving her closeness.

•••••

Zoya sat amidst her cousins, Aisha and Humairah, in her room, surrounded by the festive atmosphere of her wedding. But her mood was far from celebratory.

"Come on, Zoya, let's apply the henna," Aisha coaxed, holding up the design stencil.

Humairah chimed too, "Yes, it's your special day tomorrow. You have to do it."

Zoya's gaze drifted away. "It's not my first marriage. I don't want to, so please don't force me."

Aisha and Humairah exchanged concerned glances.

Just then, her aunt entered the room, carrying a glass of milk. "Let her be, girls. If she doesn't want the henna, she won't be forced," she told them.

Zoya's restlessness had been building up all day, and she couldn't pinpoint the reason.

Was it the wedding tomorrow, or something else entirely?

The feeling had intensified only moments ago, leaving her feeling unsettled.

"I can't believe you're taking her side, Mum!" Humairah exclaimed, "It's her wedding, for God's sake! She's being stubborn and unreasonable."

Her mother's stern gaze silenced her. "That's enough, Humairah. She has made her choices, and we'll respect them."

In fact, when Zoya had decided to gift her dowry to charity, she also didn't get angry with her. She knew she would eventually understand that her marriage was for her own well-being, not just for anyone.

She then handed her the glass of milk. "Drink this. It will calm you down."

She took a sip, her eyes glancing at her aunt's understanding face.

She settled beside her, her hands holding Zoya's. "I spoke with Haidar moments ago," she began, then paused.

Zoya's gaze remained vacant, her eyes unfocused. She had never answered his calls since the day he delivered the dowry and left.

"They've reached Agra safely," her aunt continued. "The nikkah is scheduled for tomorrow at 12 noon. They've also sent a beautiful wedding dress for you."

Her expression remained impassive.

"Honestly, Zoya, I don't get why you're not excited," Humairah said, shaking her head. "The man loves you, and he's wealthy. Women dream of such a husband. Yet, you're not grateful."

Her gaze moved to her, and it flashed with annoyance. "You're welcome to marry him, then," she retorted. "Perhaps you can appreciate his love and wealth better."

Humairah's face fell, and Zoya turned away, dismissing the conversation.

Her aunt intervened. "Enough, girls. Tomorrow's a big day. Get some rest, Zoya."

She kissed her hand, her eyes warm with affection, and added. "May your marriage be blessed and fruitful. May you find happiness and contentment."

With a gentle pat on her forehead, she stood up and went out.