Modest Kisses

Chapter Two.

CHAPTER TWO.

I was nervous, and that was a fact. I had attended so many failed weddings to make me nervous. The wedding the bride slipped, and fell, the wedding the groom didn't show up, the wedding the groom's ex-girlfriend announced she was pregnant. Just name any flaw that could possibly happen on a wedding day, and believe me I had attended a wedding that turned out that way.

Even if I hadn't, I had watched enough hindi movies to know such things happen too, and my mum had lately become a fan of telling me what possible wrong could happen to the bride on her wedding day, and how I should brace myself for such.

"Beti, if you slip, and fall, or worse your heel breaks, or your dress gets torn, just hold your head up high, and walk. People make mistakes, you were just  unfortunate to make yours on your wedding day."I nodded.

"If anything bad happens don't cower in fear or shame, a woman is supposed to show power and strength, not cowardice."

"Nothing bad will happen Mamma in shaa Allah," I said reassuring myself more than I was reassuring her.

"No, beti, nothing bad will happen, I said 'if'. No one knows what could happen, so we have to be on the safe side," Oh, what other form of torture could a bride ask for on her wedding day. Don't get me wrong my mum cares deeply for me, like every mother should her daughter. But it so turned out that my mum had a twisted way of showing it.

I tuned out on what my mum was saying, I had no other option.

I was dressed in the most expensive saree I had ever seen. Everything about it screamed expensive, from the delicate embedded stones to the fabric. The saree was everything I had dreamed of as my wedding dress, and more.

My mum took pictures of it and posted them on instagram, well not that I was surprised or anything, its my mum after all.

Ahmid's Pov.

I sat in the most crowded room I had ever been, and yousef was sitting behind me. To say I was not nervous was the biggest lie of the century.

My palms were sweaty, and I started to feel the moisture under my armpit. It only increased my anger, why the hell was she taking that long? Not that her beauty made any difference to me.

My sherwani was heavy and very uncomfortable, the last time I wore one of these was a long time ago. I looked at my Rolex for the hundredth time only to find out it was just two minutes from the last time I checked, which only angered me more.

Just as I was about to turn to yousef to complain.. the song started and a train of girls wearing bright red came in. They were fully covered, and a transparent veil covered their faces .. Only their hands and feet were out for display, which were designed with henna. I thought the arrival of Safa would make me less nervous, but i got surprised when my heart beat went two times faster. And then I saw her..

Well, not her face. She was medium in height, her skin was less of the color of honey, but more of the color of chocolate. It melted with the beauty of her henna. Just that thought, made me wonder how her face would be.

My attention was on her, and I didn't notice when she came to sit on the mat in front of me. I heard a lot of things that I couldn't place when I felt a nudge from yousef bringing me back to reality.. I paid her bride price and listened to the imam make us husband, and wife in the presence of Allah, family, and friends.

With the shouts of 'Allahu Akbar', I knew it was time to lift her veil and see what was behind it. The nervousness kicked in, but I felt yousef pat me on my back reminding me I was not alone in this. With a final breath I lifted the veil, it was then, or never.

Masha Allah. I was speechless, this was Safa, my Safa. I remembered attending her birth ceremony. She was this chubby bundle of mischief, she was never fair in complexion, even as a kid. This couldn't possibly be her.

I had seen a lot of beautiful girls, but with Safa beauty was another thing.

She was beautiful, but not like most girls. She was beautiful, for the way her lashes rested on her cheeks, for the way her nose seemed to perk up every now and then as if someone kept pricking it, and for the tight smile her lips held, that smile in between a full smile and not smiling at all.

She had this terrific air about her, somewhat strange, and beautiful, something not everyone knew how to love.

She was every lovely word I could possibly think of.

As I stared at her, I realized I no longer had doubts of wanting to spend my life with her. I wasn't sure it would be perfect either, but thinking of it, what was ever perfect these days? I was willing to give us a chance.

SORRY THE CHAPTER IS A LITTLE BIT SHORT. PLEASE VOTE AND COMMENT. RAMADAN MUBARAK

XOXO :)