Mehrem- The Confidant

10

Illiyeen

Mawaa and Noorain helped me walk to my new bedroom, each holding my heavy lehenga from the sides. The girls smirked and closed the door before leaving me alone.

The room was draped in fresh jasmine and white roses, a gift from Umair's family. Their petals decorated the canopy above, and the beautiful fragrance felt overwhelming. Each breath filled me with the intoxicating mix of floral sweetness and the weight of my emotions. I inhaled deeply, trying to steady myself, but the knot in my stomach tightened. My thoughts raced—I knew that I couldn't keep it together soon.

A knock at the door snapped me back to reality. I wasn't ready, but he was already there.

"May I come in?" Umair's low and controlled voice held an unfamiliar softness as it slipped through the door.

"Yes," I replied, though my throat felt dry.

The lock turning was the only noise in the room, but my heartbeat drowned out everything else. I was alone in this room with him. My eyes fixed on the bouquet of white lilies on the table, unwilling to meet his gaze, even though I could feel it burning into me.

He tiptoed and sat beside me, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. The air between us felt thick, buzzing with everything unsaid. I dared not look at him. But even in the silence, his presence was loud—his quiet confidence, his nearness, the steady hum of his breathing.

"Illiyeen?" His voice was a whisper, gentle but sure. I bit my lip, my eyes still glued to the flowers. "I know our wedding happened in a blur, but I have a gift for you. For Muh Dikhai."

I heard the rustle of fabric, and then, out of my eye, I saw a box. My pulse quickened. He opened it, revealing an elegant ring, its two parallel diamond curves catching the light, delicate and understated, yet breathtaking.

"May I?" he asked, his words hanging between us.

I couldn't speak. I didn't trust my voice to say anything without giving away how off-balance I felt. But his voice softened even more, almost pleading. "Please," he urged, and something about how he said it broke through my hesitation.

I finally lifted my left hand and placed it in his. The warmth of his touch sent a shock through me, making every nerve in my body stand on edge. His hands, larger and rougher than I remembered, were tender as he carefully slid the ring onto my finger. Each movement was deliberate, as if he knew the current vulnerability.

The ring was a perfect fit. His touch lingered, gentle but firm, as if to steady me. He sensed my nervousness by giving my hand a slight squeeze, grounding me when I felt like I might float away from the storm of emotions.

"Illiyeen," he began, his voice steady now, "we don't know each other well yet. There's so much we're unaware of. But that's okay. We'll take baby steps. I want us to be friends first, before anything else." He paused, his lips curving into a small smile.

"As for my family, don't worry. I may be their favorite now, but soon enough, they'll love you even more. That's just how they are."

Love. The word struck me. It wasn't unfamiliar, yet hearing it from his lips felt strange, almost foreign. Would I ever be able to love him like my mother loved my father? Could I build that kind of bond with this man, who was now my husband? Was he like my father in any way? These thoughts swirled in my mind, unanswered and unresolved, yet they kept surfacing, refusing to fade away.

"Umair," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

"Hmm?" He tilted his head toward me, attentive.

"I'm... starving."