Two Brothers, One Heart

Part 2: Chapter 98

Zaynab's voice was a gentle breeze on a summer day, but her words were laced with firmness. "I refuse to allow you to wear this to the Walima, Islam. You're not mourning death, but celebrating your wedding. Please, play along."

Islam stood, her reluctance palpable, the beige gown clinging to her frame like a damp shroud. She rubbed her temples, her eyes welling up with frustration. "What do you want me to wear, Mama? I feel sick and dizzy, I don't feel like going."

Zaynab's smile was a sunrise, warm and inviting. She wore a pink lacy boubou gown, its delicate fabric shimmering like rose petals in the light. The gown's V-neckline framed her prominent clavicles, and its flowing skirt rustled softly as she moved. Golden earrings dangled from her ears, their gentle tinkling a soothing serenade that calmed Islam's frazzled nerves.

"Lemme get something," Zaynab said, her voice barely above a whisper. She glided out of the room, her off-white chiffon shawl flowing behind her like a river of moonlight. The soft rustle of the fabric was a gentle whisper that calmed Islam's nerves.

As Zaynab returned with a rectangular box, Islam's heart skipped a beat. The box, adorned with 'Zaynabu Couture' and its logo, was a treasure chest overflowing with secrets. Zaynab's voice was barely above a whisper. "This was going to be a wedding gift, but wear it today."

Islam's eyes widened as she beheld the luxurious brown silk adire, its tie-dye patterns dancing before her eyes like flames flickering in a fire. The fabric shimmered like the sun on a summer day, its softness caressing her skin like a gentle breeze. "Wow!" she exclaimed, her voice barely above a whisper.

As she slipped into the butterfly gown, the fabric flowed around her like a cloud, its softness enveloping her like a warm embrace. Zaynab's hands were a skilled orchestra, packing Islam's hair into a bun and securing it with a vintage scarf. The matching acuce maza framed Islam's face, accentuating her features like a masterpiece.

"Gimbiya ta, my princess. You're the invaluable gift Allah has bestowed upon me," Zaynab cooed, her voice dripping with pride. Her golden pointed-toe stiletto added a touch of elegance, while statement earrings and a wristwatch completed the ensemble.

As they prepared to leave, Islam's eyes widened in realization. "I haven't worn my hijab," she said, her voice laced with concern. She didn't want to look indecent. The scent of freshly applied perfume wafted through the air, mingling with the subtle aroma of polished wood and leather.

Zaynab's voice was a gentle breeze. "You don't need that, you look beautiful this way. Let's go." Her words were a soft caress, but Islam's stubbornness surfaced.

"I am not leaving this house unless I get a hijab," Islam said, her body language screaming defeat. Her voice was a whispered plea, a gentle rustling of leaves.

Zaynab's voice was barely audible. "What do you want? You've started again ko." Her words were a gentle reprimand, a soft tapping on the shoulder.

Islam pleaded, "I listened to you and agreed to play along, even though I don't. Please let me wear a scarf." Her voice was a whispered prayer, a gentle breeze on a summer day.

Zaynab's words were a gentle reprimand. "No, you didn't listen to me but your heart." Her voice was a soft whisper, a gentle lapping of waves.

Khalid's voice interrupted, a deep baritone. "What's going on?" His words were a gentle inquiry, a soft questioning glance.

Zaynab pirouetted Islam in front of him. "Don't you think she looks beautiful like this?" Her words were a gentle boast, a soft showcasing of her daughter's beauty.

Khalid's response was a gentle suggestion. "She should wear a scarf, I think." His words were a soft whisper, a gentle nod of agreement.

Islam's eyes met Zaynab's, her body language screaming defeat. Zaynab eventually passed her the brown chiffon shawl, which she wrapped around her head, letting the hem fly behind her. It wasn't her usual hijab, but it was still decent. The soft fabric rustled softly as she moved, a gentle whisper of surrender.