𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 | A Halal Love Story

Chapter 02

I open the blinds, letting sunlight flood the room, Our flight landed yesterday morning, and I was so wiped out that I slept the entire day. Not just any sleep—the kind that grips you so hard, you could probably sleep through a nuclear bomb.

Groggily, I drag myself to the bathroom to freshen up, glancing at the clock. Mehendi night was tonight, and I needed to be wide awake and energized. Aliza, my lovely, slightly crazy best friend, would never let me live it down if I showed up half-asleep. But before any of that, coffee. My body couldn't function without it.

Throwing on a pair of jeans and my favourite white blouse, I make my way to the small coffee shop down the street. As I step inside, the familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee greets me like an old friend. The barista behind the counter smiles at me, already knowing my order.

"Here you go, Miss. Enjoy your day, and do come again!" she says, handing me the steaming cup.

"Oh, don't worry, I'll be back," I reply, flashing her a grin before turning towards the door. Before I can even take a step outside, my phone rings. Aliza.

"Where are you?!" she yells so loudly that I have to move the phone away from my ear.

"I'm on my way!" I say quickly, heading out when—bam!—I slam straight into what feels like a brick wall. I stumble back, and my precious coffee sloshes all over my blouse.

I look up, mortified, and see a tall man with an equally shocked expression. My shirt is completely ruined, coffee stains blooming across the white fabric.

"You ruined my clothes!" I snap, more at the situation than at him. I mean, seriously, my shirt was WHITE.

Without missing a beat, he takes off his blazer and hands it to me. "I'll pay for the dry cleaning. You can cover up with this." His voice is clipped, almost annoyed, like this was somehow my fault.

"No need to pay for anything," I mutter, snatching the blazer, "but I'll take this." No way was I walking back to the hotel looking like I'd lost a fight with a coffee machine.

***

"Finally!" Aliza exclaims, rolling her eyes but hugging me tight when I arrive at her place. Her embrace is warm and familiar, and I can't help but laugh. I missed her so much during the time we were apart.

"I wouldn't miss your wedding for the world," I say, smiling as I make my way towards the washroom.

Aliza follows, her eyes catching the stain on my shirt. "What happened to your blouse?"

"Long story. Some guy and a coffee shop accident," I shrug, removing the blazer.

Aliza nods but waves it off, already bouncing with excitement. "Okay, whatever! Just get ready. The guests will be here soon."

"You should be the one getting ready, not me!" I joke, but she just giggles and walks off.

I take a moment to gather myself and change into the dark olive green gown I'd picked for the night. It hugs me in all the right places, and as I stand in front of the mirror, I have to admit—I look pretty good.

"You look lovely, mashallah," a soft voice says from behind me. I turn to see my mom, smiling warmly.

"Do I?" I ask, looking back at the mirror.

"Absolutely," she says, coming closer to fix a stray strand of hair. "Inshallah, I'll see you in a wedding dress one day," she adds with a grin.

"Mama, not you too!" I whine, pouting. "First Nani, now you?"

"Don't worry, Bachi, take your time," she reassures me, leaving me alone to finish getting ready. I smile at her retreating form, grateful for the love and patience she always showers me with.