echoes of defiance (Rewriting)

chapter 22

Zain pulled me gently into his embrace, his voice soft but firm. "I don't like seeing your tears. Please, don’t cry. In sha Allah, we’ll be good," he said, his tone filled with reassurance. His warmth radiated against me, but as I glanced up at him, my mind raced. How did all of this happen? It felt surreal. Truly, Allah is the best of planners.

He took my hand, and though my fingers were trembling slightly, his touch steadied me. Leading me to my room, he guided me to sit on the edge of the bed, and then sat next to me, his presence both comforting and unsettling at once.

"I need to get ready for bed," I said softly, my tone almost pleading, hoping for a moment of privacy to calm my racing heart.

He smiled, a little nervously, still holding on to my hand. "Please," i whispered, while he still holds  my handunwilling to let go just yet.

I couldn't help but smile back, though I tried to hide it. "I need my hand," I teased, my voice barely above a whisper.

Reluctantly, he released me, his fingers lingering just a moment longer before I stood up and went to the closet. I pulled out a pair of pajamas and walked toward the bathroom, my thoughts tumbling over themselves. *He's not expecting me to change in his presence, is he?* I thought, my lips tugging into a small frown. *Zain kwanan nan... baya wani jin kunyana wallahi. He just does things so suddenly.*

In the sanctuary of the bathroom, I let out a long breath, trying to steady myself. The water from the shower was warm and soothing, but even as I washed away the tension of the day, my nerves refused to settle. When I emerged, dressed in my pajamas, I noticed Zain wasn’t in the room anymore. A sense of relief washed over me, and I quickly finished my nightly routine.

I was just about to climb into bed when the door opened again. Zain walked in, now in his own pajamas, looking as composed as ever. My heart sank. *What is he doing here?* I thought, my pulse quickening as I tried to remain calm.

"Going to bed already?" he asked, his voice gentle, but his presence sent my thoughts spiraling.

"Yes," I replied, a little too quickly, frowning to cover the nervous smile threatening to break free. I didn’t want him to think I was okay with this, not tonight. My mind raced with thoughts of him staying the night, and the idea made my heart pound in my chest.

Before I could say anything else, he interrupted my thoughts. "Let’s pray first," he said, his tone soft but insistent.

*Ya Allah, why now?* I sighed inwardly but kept quiet as I watched him spread out the prayer mats. He walked over, took my hand again, and led me to the mat, his touch still gentle, but now my heart was racing for a different reason.

We stood together, and he led the two raka’as. His voice, calm and steady, was soothing, but my mind was too full of emotions to focus properly. After the prayer, he placed his hand on my forehead, his touch tender as he prayed for blessings in our marriage. I felt a quiet peace settle in the room, but my heart remained conflicted.

Then, almost casually, he asked me a few basic religious questions. I answered softly, feeling a strange mix of tension and warmth between us. He was trying, I knew that. But the day’s emotions had left me feeling raw and vulnerable.

Afterward, he led me back to bed. I climbed in nervously, lying on one side, hoping the night would end here. But Zain walked to the other edge, turned off the lights, and then, to my shock, got into bed beside me.

My heart started pounding again. *Ya Allah, there are four rooms in this house. Why is he here?* Panic settled in my chest as I felt the bed dip with his weight. He reached out, taking my hand once more. A jolt of electricity ran through me, a mix of nerves and uncertainty, as he slowly pulled me closer.

Before I could react, our bodies were pressed against each other, and I could feel his breath on my neck. His nose brushed against the nape of my neck as he murmured, “Ya salam.”

*Dan Allah kayi hakuri,* I thought, fear creeping into my chest. My breathing hitched, and I could feel tears forming. "Please... stop," I whispered, my voice trembling.

Zain didn’t seem to hear me. He turned me around, now facing him in the dim light. I avoided his gaze, my heart pounding in my chest as he traced his nose along my neck. His touch sent waves of nervousness through me, and I couldn’t hold back my fear any longer.

"Dan Allah, kayi hakuri," I begged, tears spilling over. "Zain, please, I’m scared," I sobbed, my voice breaking.

Suddenly, everything stopped. The room fell silent. His movements halted, and for a moment, neither of us spoke. The tension hung in the air like a heavy cloud.

Without a word, Zain pulled me even closer, wrapping me in a tight embrace. His arms surrounded me, holding my trembling body securely, his hand gently caressing my hair. I could feel his steady heartbeat against me as he held me, not saying anything, just offering his silent reassurance.

For the first time that night, I felt a sense of calm, even amidst the storm of emotions inside me. The silence between us wasn’t awkward or strained—it was a quiet understanding. He didn’t push any further. He just held me, his presence comforting, as my sobs quieted into soft breaths.

And in that moment, I realized that Zain, for all his abruptness, was trying to offer me something I wasn’t ready to understand just yet—patience, protection, and love.