Luminous Gems

Chapter 2

Faheema sat in the quiet of her home office, her fingers lingering over the corner of a wedding photo perched on her desk. In the image, she and Iphraim stood side by side, their smiles perfect but carefully measured. To anyone else, it was a portrait of a happily married couple. To Faheema, it was a reminder of the pact that had shaped her life.

She remembered the day Iphraim proposed—not with roses or candlelight, but with logic and mutual benefit. Her father had just given her the ultimatum: no husband, no college. The words still rang in her ears as they had that night, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"We have spoken with Iphraim's family ," her mother had said gently, as though brokering a treaty. "He's a good man, from a wonderful family Faheema. He'll take care of you, and you can still continue your studies like you want."

Good man or not, Faheema had been furious. At eighteen, she had ambitions, dreams that stretched far beyond her father's small shop and the traditional roles her family expected her to fill. But before her rebellion could take root, Iphraim had come to her directly.

"You don't want this marriage," he had said plainly, his eyes earnest. "And neither do I. But maybe... we can make it work for both of us."

She had stared at him, confused and cautious. "What are you talking about?"

Iphraim hesitated, then spoke in a low voice. "I can't tell my family the truth about myself. Not now. Not ever, probably. But if we do this—if we marry—it gives both of us the freedom we need. You can go to college, and I can stop living under constant suspicion."

His words had caught her off guard. A marriage of convenience. It wasn't the future she'd envisioned, but it wasn't the trap she'd feared either. And so, after careful negotiation and whispered conversations, they had agreed.

Now, years later, the arrangement still stood, a foundation built on respect and mutual support, but not love. Their lives had become parallel lines, touching only where necessary. Faheema had her thriving career, and Iphraim had his carefully curated life—one that allowed him to move within his community without raising questions.

But tonight, as she prepared to host their tenth anniversary dinner, the weight of the arrangement pressed heavier than usual. Her parents were flying in, eager to celebrate what they saw as a milestone of marital success. Her mother who was dropping more than usual not-so-subtle hints about grandchildren, a topic that grew more complicated with each passing year.

Faheema glanced at the clock and sighed. Iphraim would be home soon, and they'd have to rehearse their answers for the inevitable questions. She hated the charade, but she knew it was necessary—for now, at least.

Her phone buzzed, and she saw a message from Iphraim: "Running late, but I'll be there before your parents arrive. Don't worry, I've got the 'dotting husband' act down."

Faheema chuckled despite herself. If nothing else, Iphraim had always known how to lighten the mood.

She tucked the wedding photo back into its spot and rose to start setting the table. Tonight would be just another performance, but in the quiet moments between, she couldn't help but wonder: how much longer could they keep this up? And was it worth it anymore?

---

Faheema set the final plate on the dining table, straightening the edge of the cloth with practiced precision. The table was perfect: candles glowing softly in their holders, a spread of her mother's favorite dishes meticulously prepared. Everything about the evening screamed "happy anniversary," but the warmth she'd projected while arranging it felt like a mask she'd worn too long.

Her parents had arrived an hour ago, their joy at celebrating this milestone bubbling over in every word and gesture. Her father, ever the traditionalist, had clasped Iphraim's hand when he walked through the door. "Ten years, son. You've done well keeping her happy," he said, a hearty laugh punctuating his praise.

Faheema glanced sideways at Iphraim, who played his part to perfection. "It's easy when you're married to your better half," he replied smoothly, squeezing Faheema's hand for effect. She smiled at him, a practiced expression they'd honed over the years.

Dinner had barely begun when her mother launched into familiar territory. "Faheema, you know what would make this anniversary truly special?"

Faheema kept her tone light, though she could already see where the conversation was heading. "What's that, Ma?"

Her mother clasped her hands dramatically. "A grandchild! Look at you two—successful, stable, blessed. It's time, beti. There's nothing left to wait for."

Iphraim coughed, masking his unease with a sip of water, but Faheema wasn't so lucky. Her father chimed in, his voice firm yet hopeful. "Your mother's right. Ten years is a long time. Don't you want to give us something to hold onto as we grow older?"

Faheema's heart raced. She glanced at Iphraim, who gave her a small nod, their silent signal to stay calm and follow the script. "We've talked about it," she said, her voice steady. "But, Ma, Baba, you know how demanding our jobs are. We want to make sure we're fully ready when the time comes."

Her mother sighed, clearly unconvinced. "Don't wait too long, Faheema. Time doesn't stop for anyone."

"Are your friends still unmarried and childless?" her mother asked, a note of disapproval in her voice.

"Ma, please," Faheema said, feeling exhausted and not wanting to entertain this topic for the millionth time.

Her mother continued, undeterred. "I mean, surely they must be the reason why there aren't any kids running around." She paused, then added, "You remember cousin Rita's neighbor, right? She got married last year and is already pregnant. It's only been a year! You don't want people starting rumors about you not being able to have kids, do you?"

Faheema let out a heavy sigh, her appetite gone. Though she had expected this, it still stung. The mood at the table shifted, and she felt the weight of her mother's words press down on her.

Fortunately, Iphraim steered the conversation toward his recent success, which his parents were eager to hear about. His milestones were always their favorite topic, and the focus shifted away from Faheema. However, the tension still lingered in the air like smoke.

As they cleared the table, Iphraim leaned in close and whispered, "We handled that well."

Faheema smirked, though her frustration simmered beneath the surface. "They'll bring it up again tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that."

Her parents were staying with them for a couple of days, a rare occurrence since they lived hours away. While Faheema loved them deeply, their presence always came with layers of expectation and scrutiny.

Later that night, Faheema sat on the edge of her bed, listening to the muffled sounds of her parents settling into the guest room. Iphraim knocked softly before stepping in.

"You okay?" he asked, closing the door behind him.

"I'm fine," she replied, though her voice betrayed her weariness.

He crossed the room and sat beside her, a rare moment of closeness in their carefully constructed lives. "They'll leave soon. You'll breathe again."

She chuckled, the sound more bitter than she intended. "It's not just about them, Iphraim. It's this whole... act. Sometimes I wonder how much longer we can keep it up."

Iphraim sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You know we don't have a choice. For now, it works. For both of us."

Faheema nodded, though the words offered little comfort. She watched as Iphraim stood and made his way to the door. "Goodnight, Faheema," he said softly before slipping out.

Left alone in the quiet, Faheema gazed at her wedding band, the weight of the choice she made pressing down on her tonight, burdened by truths no one else could see. She leaned back against the pillows, her mind restless despite the exhaustion in her body.

Her parents would leave in two days. Until then, she would wear the mask a little longer, playing the role she'd chosen all those years ago. But the questions gnawed at her: how much longer could they keep pretending? And was there a way out that wouldn't shatter everything they'd built?