LUCENT

18

TAYYIB

I sigh as I pull into the cluttered driveway. The house was packed with people outside and inside. I'd been staying away since the wedding started, but Mama was adamant about me attending today's event.

I made up an excuse to get out of attending the luncheon Nadira's family hosted yesterday. My brothers had said it was a terrible move. In my defense, I cannot stand loud and crowded spaces. If not for my mother's strict instructions, I wouldn't attend today's Kamu.

My little time with Nadira taught me much about her, like how easily she was triggered by authority and criticism, so telling her what to do would bode well. And it appears that she believes she was justified in her reaction to our argument that night. So it shocked me when I received her call, but her apology was far from sincere. It sounded forced.

There was no doubt in my mind that her mother or sisters had made her do it. I did not accept her half-ass apology. I acknowledged it. I am upset with her and do not intend to hide it.

Still, I am not discouraged from marrying her. Nadira would be challenging, but I am too infatuated to let her go.

A knock on my window cut off my thoughts. Begrudgingly, I rolled down the window only to find my face staring back at me. "How long do you plan on hiding in there?" Sa'ad asks, holding his baby.

I glare at him and turn away.

"You're not getting out of this, so just come down already. Mama has laid out your outfit and everything," he says, opening the door.

I exhale and wind the window up before turning off the car and exiting.

"I'll catch up with you. I have to take Abdulrahim to his mother," my twin says, walking off in the other direction. I nod and head towards the main house.

Finally, after making small talk with relatives and friends of my mother who littered the house, I made it to my father's bedroom. Mama temporarily moved in here during weddings because her room would be filled with friends and relatives.

Apart from that, the room stayed locked. Only being opened a few times so she could clean it. She tidied the entire room by herself or with the help of my brothers' wives. Even when the house had been renovated, the room had been left unchanged. She hated anyone apart from us going in there.

My mother was sitting on the edge of the large bed with her phone to her ear. She gestured for me to come in, and I walked over. Still on the phone, she pointed to the clothes laid out on the bed.

I picked them up and frowned. "White?" I asked.

"It'll look great," she replies, ending the call.

"No, thank you," I say, putting them down.

"Fine. You can wear a different colour. Check the paper bag in the closet," she states.

I stroll to the closet and rummage through the paper bag. When did she get all these kaftans sewn? Did she use Sa'ad? I picked out a black kaftan and returned to the room.

"Go get ready. You have to go to her house and take pictures with her first," Mama says.

"Alright," I reply, heading for the door.

"Let's talk before you leave," she says, ushering me back.

I walk back and take a seat next to her. She moves closer and takes my hand in hers. "Tell me what's wrong."