echoes of defiance (Rewriting)

chapter 21

The four days before my moving in were nothing short of a whirlwind. Amma and Mom had planned everything meticulously, scheduling my move for four days later. In the meantime, Mom arranged for a local spa from Yerwa Fato, the traditional body care treatments every Yerwa bride goes through. They used all the luxurious local products—*dilke*, *dukhan*, and incense, perfuming me until I was drenched in the fragrant essence of royalty. Each day, I felt myself transform under their care, my skin glowing with renewed freshness, my curves softening, becoming fuller, and my complexion fairer.

Zain hadn’t seen me since that day, although he had been persistently asking. Amma, of course, wouldn’t hear of it, keeping me hidden away like a rare gem. So, I spent most of the time in my room, idle for 24 hours each day, while they arranged my furniture in the section of Zain’s house where I’d be staying. Everyone who saw the house was in awe, speaking of how regal it looked—an Arab royal palace in every sense, beautifully adorned with lavish details.

Finally, the day arrived. My heart felt both heavy and excited as Dad called Zain to our home. His words were firm yet filled with tenderness as he lectured us on the sanctity of marriage. “Be there for each other, always,” he said, his voice deep with emotion. “Support one another.”

Then, he told me it was time to say goodbye to Mom and Amma. As Zain waited for me, the realization hit me like a wave crashing against the shore. I was leaving. Leaving everything familiar behind, embarking on a new journey as someone’s wife. Tears welled up in my eyes, and before I could control them, I broke down, sobbing. I hugged my dad tightly, clinging to him as though I was still his little girl. His embrace was strong, comforting. Together, we walked over to Mom and Amma, who were already teary-eyed, their faces etched with both pride and sadness.

“Good luck, my dear,” they whispered, holding me tightly, their tears mingling with mine. Amma wiped her face, her lips quivering as she wished me well. I could see the love in her eyes, the hopes and dreams she had for me swirling just beneath the surface.

Then, the moment that I dreaded came. My father took my trembling hand and placed it in Zain’s firm grasp. “Take care of my princess, Zain. She’s all I have,” Dad said, his voice thick with emotion, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“In sha Allah, Daddy,” Zain replied softly, his voice filled with promise. “Allah ya saka da alheri.” With that, Zain gently held my hand as I began to sob quietly once again. Mom and Amma were crying too, their emotions spilling over, unable to contain their love and worry. Zain guided me out to his car, his hand warm and reassuring, never letting go.

In the parking lot, he helped me into the car, his movements gentle, as though he knew how fragile I felt at that moment. Our first stop was his father’s section of the house. His dad greeted us warmly and offered his own words of wisdom about companionship, life, and love. Before we left, he handed us a box and gave us his blessings, his expression kind and heartfelt.

Zain helped me to my feet, and together, we walked toward our part of the house. My heart raced as we neared the door, the weight of what was about to happen pressing down on me. Before entering, I silently prayed, asking for peace, love, and understanding in this new chapter of my life. Zain noticed my hesitation and squeezed my hand reassuringly.

Once inside, the house felt grand yet intimate, every corner filled with the quiet promise of a life yet to be lived. Zain directed me to the couch, his voice soft but steady, guiding me through the unfamiliarity. I sat down, trying to calm my nerves, my hands clasped tightly in my lap.

He stood before me, his gaze soft as he carefully lifted my veil for the very first time. Our eyes met, and his breath caught slightly. “Alhamdulillah,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, as though the sight of me had left him momentarily speechless. His eyes softened further when he saw my tear-stained cheeks and the redness around my eyes from crying.

Without a word, Zain gently pulled me into his arms, holding me close, his embrace warm and secure. I could hear his heartbeat, steady and reassuring. “Alhamdulillah,” he whispered again, his hand tenderly wiping away my tears.

In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just us—two souls embarking on a new journey, bound by love, hope, and a silent promise to cherish one another through it all. Every breath felt deeper, every emotion more palpable as we stood at the threshold of our future, ready to face whatever came next, together.