No Conditions, Whatsoever

Broccoli

Reminder: Pray.

Feiha's PoV:

It's my wedding night.

The thought echoed in my mind as I heard Ashiya and Zaara Bhabhi narrating their stories from the initial phase of their respective marriages.

“I thought I was gonna faint during my wedding night,” Ashiya sighed as Zaara Bhabhi gave her a mischievous look.

“Why? What did Ahan Bhai do to wear you out so much?”

I started coughing as soon as I understood the meaning of her question. Ashiya, on the other hand, rolled her eyes and replied, “Ahan was very sweet and gentle. On our wedding he made sure to keep things comfortable for me. I am not gonna give you the details but I can tell you that he has never touched me without my consent.”

“Hmm I get what you're saying,” Zaara Bhabhi nodded. “Arhaan is the same. He's tender and kind, but he does  get quite needy some-” she stopped in the middle, as if realising that she was thinking out loud, and lowered her face in shyness.

Ashiya and I giggled at that but then I realised that the marriage bed was an inevitable thing and that I was supposed to consummate our marriage sooner or later. I was sure that Ayan wouldn't force himself on me. What I wasn't certain about was how I would manage to…get things done in the near future.

I was raised in a family that was religious and conservative. Surely I was given the freedom to choose a career of my choice and all that, but it had been made very clear to Hania and me when we reached puberty that we were not allowed to date. We could marry someone of our choice but that too had to be done by following the Islamic guidelines.

I was not a prude, of course. I knew everything about sex. Well, theoretically I did because I was a literature student and I had read works of Henry Miller, D.H. Lawrence and a number of Greek mythologies, all of them with explicit imagery. I had analysed and written thesis papers about them, even given presentations in the classroom while talking about sex like it was no big deal.

Those presentations are not going to help you, my mind told me and I closed my eyes in defeat.

“Are you tired ?” Ashiya tapped my shoulder. “I am gonna call Ayan so you two can pray your nafl salah, and then do…whatever you want.” She said the last part by moving her arms in a funny manner and left with Zaara Bhabhi trailing behind her.

I was now sitting on Ayan's bed. It was huge and the mattress was soft, inviting me to just lose myself in the land of dreams. The walls were painted beige and there was a mirror right across the bed and a wooden shelf beside it, with lots of CDs and magazines. Curious, I got up to take a closer look only to realise that they were not magazines but mangas. There was a desk beside the bed with a computer, a giant speaker and a keyboard on it. The room was neat and clean and smelled of musk and sandalwood.

I picked out a manga, one whose cover picture had some red haired guy with a lot of unreal muscles and shoulder length hair, holding a sword and standing straight. I examined the comic book without opening it. There was a paragraph written at the back in Japanese which I failed to decipher.

“That’s one of my favourite mangas,” I heard and quickly kept the manga back to where I had picked it from. I turned around to face Ayan who was now wearing a simple white shirt with black joggers, and smiling at me. I, on the other hand, was dressed in a heavy, red kameez and matching trousers with a heavier dupatta on my head.

“Relax,” he took steps in my direction. “You aren't a thief, I'm sure, even though you have stolen my heart.” He placed his hand on his chest and grinned.