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ABUJA, NIGERIA
The night Whispers flies away, and it's morning already. The sun is shining radiantly, making the light seep through the window, casting a dazzling hue in the room. Today, another journey is going to be taken.
Afreen hesitantly wakes up from sleep, dreading the impending ceremony that is going to take place today. She turns her body in anticipation to see Anwaar, but his side is empty. Her forehead creases in worry, and questions start to pop up in her head. Where is Anwaar? Why didn't he wake her up? At the thought of that, she picks up her phone, which is on the bedside table, and checks the time. 10:05 am.
Shit! I am screwed.
She peels off the blanket from her body, then stands up from the bed, immediately going to pick up the hijab that Anwaar's sister brought last night. She feels apprehensive wearing Anwaar's clothing, which is a plain black Balenciaga shirt and oversized sweatpants.
"Is this how newlywed brides dress on their wedding night? Surely not," she answers back.
A knock comes through the door, and her body shoots up in fear, wondering who is at the door. She walks to the door nevertheless and opens it, which Anwaar had already left open after going out.
She unexpectedly comes in contact with Aisha and Zarah, and her mouth opens in shock, clearly taken aback early in the morning. She regains her composure and ushers them into the house, then gives each of them a hug. She missed them.
"What are you guys doing here?" She asks after closing the door.
"What? Aren't you happy to see us here?" Aisha asks back.
"I don't mean it that way. I thought after last night you guys weren't going to come back again, but I am happy to see you guys," she says, smiling.
"Actually, yes. But Anwaar called us in the morning and asked us to come help you get dressed," Zarah replies.
Her eyes soften, and a smile grazes her lips. What did she do to deserve this man?
Zarah, with her small experience in makeup, dolls up Afreen's face in a simple nude makeup, and it turns out good. She adds a touch of mint green eyeshadow to her eyes to match it with the laffaya which her mother-in-law sent to her earlier through Sabeeha and her darling Laila.
By noon, she is fully dressed in a well-tailored skirt and blouse, and on top is the professionally tied laffaya, courtesy of Zarah, who is a descendant of the Kanuri group.
The laffaya bestowed upon Afreen by her mother-in-law was a work of art and culture. Its deep colors, intricate designs, and rich symbolism told a story that transcended its mere fabric. This particular laffaya was a masterpiece of the Kanuri tradition, known for its elegance and timeless beauty. Its predominant color was a regal shade of deep maroon, adorned with meticulously embroidered golden patterns that flowed like delicate streams of sunlight. The fabric felt luxurious against her skin, and the intricate details added a touch of grace to the entire ensemble. When she draped it over her slender frame, the laffaya accentuated her elegance, fitting her like a bespoke piece of art. With every fold and drape, it exuded a sense of regal charm that perfectly complemented the significance of the occasion.
