بِسْمِ ٱللَّٰهِ ٱلرَّحْمَـٰنِ ٱلرَّحِيمِ
.............................................................
Imaan was sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone. The curtains fluttered gently in the summer breeze. She was spending her summer vacation at her grandparents' house, a place filled with nostalgic charm. Everything felt old yet refreshingly new to her as she indulged in eating mangoes and enjoying the simple pleasures of life.
Suddenly, Yahaya walked in, wearing a shirt and scrolling through his phone. His blue eyes gleamed in the afternoon light. The room was silent until Yahaya threw a pillow at Imaan.
"Wallahi, this boy! I'm very, very tired, you know? Why are you even here?" she groaned, throwing the pillow back at him. They had a long-standing history of not getting along since childhood.
"Oh, stop being overdramatic. It was just a pillow," Yahaya said, sitting beside her on the couch and placing his feet on the table.
"Excuse me, why are you sitting here? It's my place. Just stand up and go from here," she demanded, pointing at him. Her white hijab gleamed gracefully in the sunlight.
"Is your name written here?" he replied dramatically.
"Wallah, I'm tired of this boy," she muttered, throwing the pillow at him again. She stood up and walked to the table to grab some fruit.
"Go help our mom in the kitchen instead of sitting here doing nothing," Yahaya said, still scrolling through his phone.
"I just finished my work. Why don't you do your own work instead of telling me what to do? I'm not like you," she retorted. Imaan had never liked Yahaya, and she knew he felt the same way. They had been at odds since childhood, even though he was her favorite aunt's son.
"Astagfirullah, this girl," he teased, putting on his earphones and playing a wedding nasheed. He started singing along to the lyrics, knowing it would annoy her.
Imaan furrowed her brows, biting into an apple and glaring at him.
Noticing her reaction, Yahaya started to sing more loudly, playfully flirting with her through the lyrics.
Ajman ya sya'ubihanwarin waanuwarin
Her cheerful face glows with happiness and excitement,
Mubarokun Zaujaha ja'ats 'ala durorin
Blessed is the groom who receives her upon a throne of pearls,
Zaujuna qoibitats widzin wa ibhari
Our partner, beautiful in both appearance and character.
Kullul kulubitanahats fissana farokhat
Every heart is beating with joy in the heavens above,
Filkhusni yabruku fii khusnin wa isroori
And the beauty of this union is celebrated with smiles and victory.
Asma'u tarshumuhal khalal wa fakalimal
The chattering of women fills the hall,
Imaan furrowed her brow, noticing the theme of the lyrics was wedding-related. She called out, "Aunt! Come here! Your son wants to get married!"
Immediately, Yasmin and Mariam, who were working in the kitchen, emerged wearing their aprons. Their expressions were a mix of surprise and curiosity.
"What did I just hear? You want to get married?" Yasmin asked, her brown eyes gleaming with interest.
Yahaya was shocked, quickly removing his earphones. "What? No! I was just—"
