Too Little, Too Late

14

When the bridal entourage arrived at the conference centre, the cars were led to the parking area where the groom's entourage waited with the groom himself. Apart from Tobi who wore a cream coloured agbada (bakht) and its cap, every other male was in a suit; cream shawl lapelled tux suits, black classic oxford shirts tucked into the bands of their black trousers, bow ties, shining black and brown shoes, and watches alongside other jewellery pieces which cost more than people liked to think about unless you were in the friendship circle.

The men smiled when those in the vehicles got out. There were hugs and complements. Ibrahim was the one who opened Ayra's door and he smiled lazily as he took her all in, a swirl of emotions in his dark eyes. He then leaned forward. "You look dashing."

Ayra wanted her cheeks to stop being so hot but it was hard. She smiled back at him, appearing calm and composed while her body had flutters everywhere. "And you look amazing. This definitely beats every image I had."

"So it's good enough?"

"It's perfect, Ibrahim. It's perfect and it fits you."

He leaned in even further, doing more damage to her heart with his face right in front of hers. "And you should know that this dress won't look good on someone who isn't you. You're literally the main star tonight, Ayra."

Her cheeks got darker and while she was tempted to avert her gaze, she chose to stubbornly keep her eyes on his. Ibtihaj cleared her throat very loudly. "Abeg some of us that are single are still here o."

Ayra's eyes widened as she'd actually forgotten that Ibtihaj was right beside her while Ibrahim laughed, looking away from his wife. He smiled warmly at the other woman. "Hello, Ibty."

She grinned. "Hi. You look really good."

"Not as good as you though."

Ibtihaj's smile turned smug. "It's me, of course. Don't worry, I'll let you and everyone else admire my mother's work of art by doing three-sixty when we get down. We are getting down now abi?"

He nodded. "We are." Ibrahim then turned back to Ayra and held out a hand. "Mrs Fahad, shall we?"

Ayra was slowly turning to mush. She nodded, putting her hand in his. "Sure."

He helped her down and their friends cheered like the excited people they were. Ayra and Ibtihaj's families told them they'd be inside and once Ayra, Ibtihaj, and the others nodded, they said goodbyes and headed in. Bella whipped out a Polaroid camera from her bag and held it up at Ayra and Ibrahim.

"Say cheese, Engineer and Mrs Fahad."

She didn't have to ask them twice. Ibrahim easily wrapped a steady arm around Ayra's waist, pulling her close to him, and they both shot wide sincere smiles at the camera; a perfect moment Bella captured.

Ibrahim's suit was charcoal black; a mushroom patterned jacquard jacket with notch lapels where silver accessories sat comfortably. His inner shirt – a classic Oxford just like his friends – was white with black buttons and his bowtie sat nicely at the collar. The black trousers covered every inch of his long legs and black leather Balmoral ankle high boots covered his socked feet, not one single spec of dirt on the shoes exterior. His cufflinks were silver and they matched his watch and the single ring he wore; a ring that would complement the one he was yet to give her.

Ayra, on the other hand, was in the razzmic berry shade of purple and silver. Her dress – a tulle ball gown – was the most sophisticated one she'd worn since the wedding festivities began. The neck was high and the sleeves were long. There was a thin band around the waist and then the tulle skirt puffed out and flowed to her feet. The dress was intricately beaded and stoned and there was no doubt she was going to be so pretty underneath the lights of the hall. Her headpiece was tied the same way as the one she'd worn for the Nikkah but instead of white, this was silver and on it was a crystal double bridal headband. Her earrings were simple teardrops and she wore no necklace while bracelets adorned both wrists and simple block heeled shoes were on her feet.