Under the Olive Tree

28. Thamania Wa'Ishrun

With Fayza awake, no recent deaths, and the date for Amani's marriage set by her family and Muhsin's, the sun seemed to shine brighter. Her footsteps in the street grew lighter on the way to the hospital, knowing that nothing could ruin the happiness that had been so mercifully bestowed on her. In a few short days, Amani would be formally married to Muhsin and things would change.

She would begin living with him, waking up beside him, brushing her teeth in the bathroom alongside him, combing her hair in front of him. She would no longer need the hijab on her head to maintain the modesty between them because she would be his and he would be hers. And, when the hijab was gone, so would be the firm barrier of respect he always placed between them that would hardly allow for the most minimal touches.

That was that she looked forward to most.

Touching Muhsin.

Being able to stand in front of him and extend her hands knowing he would close the rest of the space and allow their fingers to intertwine. The feeling of his skin, his hair, his eyes would no longer be forbidden to her. The excitement ate away at her. Just a few more weeks and the sacredness of Muhsin would belong to her.

After spending the day in the market, buying all the clothes she would need after marriage for guests and for her husband-to-be, Amani should have felt tired. But the anticipation eating away at her seemed to only target the physical fatigue so she felt rejuvenated, bouncing happily in the street on her way to see him.

Ever since Fayza woke three nights before to see her brother sleeping in Amani's lap, the entire town had released the breath they'd all been holding. People were no longer awaiting Fayza's death because her death meant the destruction of the rebellious spirit to so many. To Fayza, she would always say that there would be those after her to carry it on. To everyone who knew her, Fayza and her recklessness was the very prized essence of the movement.

Townsfolk greeted Amani in the street, congratulating her on her coming katb-kitab where she would formally be married to Muhsin. All the papers would be finished and even if they were to wait on the large ceremony, they would become permissible to one another.

Her family was with her but Amani hardly noticed them, her quick footsteps eager to see the man she was now scheduled to marry exactly thirteen days from now. When they arrived at the hospital, bearing gifts and flowers, even the doctors greeted them happily.

It felt like the holidays.

Fayza's hospital room was filled with her relatives. At the center, her mother and two younger brothers sat at the feet of the bed, their faces illuminated with thrilled smiles. In the back corner, Muhsin stood with his arms crossed and his shoulder against the wall, watching the entire family rejoice at the live state of the girl with a smile that Amani could see within his eyes but not quite on his lips.

"Amani," the girl grinned happily, sitting up now that there were hardly any tubes or wires tying her down. Fayza's skin glowed after finally showering and her mother had brought her a green dress to wear when the guests arrived. The scarf around her head was placed carefully but not tight enough to hide the healing stitches just beneath her jaw. "You came. Is this your family?"

As if their arrival announced the end of her relatives' visit, nearly all of them scurried out to empty the room for the formal meeting. Only Um Muhsin, Ezzo, Amjad, Muhsin, their aunt, and Amani's family were left in the room once the urgent movement ceased.

Her father and mother greeted the room warmly.

Um Muhsin rose, "what is this? You should not have brought such things," she took the flowers from Amani's mother. "Oh, these smell wonderful, mashallah. Thank you."