"Amina, a devout niqabi Muslim and final-year medical student from India, has always held her faith close. She has come to London to complete her studies, but life takes a turn when she finds herself in an arranged marriage with Zayd, a wealthy Lond...
Amina awoke to the sound of her alarm, reaching for her phone to check the time. It was four in the morning. She rubbed her eyes, glancing around as she registered her surroundings. She was on a couch-not her bed, not even her own room. A sobering realization settled over her; she was now a married woman. Memories of the previous night flashed through her mind, stirring a quiet sadness. On her wedding night, her husband had shouted at her. Pushing the thought aside, she slowly got up, wincing as a sharp pain shot through her back from sleeping on the couch. Gritting her teeth, she made her way to the bathroom.
Today was her reception day. As she brushed her teeth and took a cold shower, she considered her attire. She finally settled on something simple yet elegant, befitting her first official day as a bride. After dressing, she carefully adjusted her niqab and left the room. Her eyes lingered on her husband, still asleep. She couldn't help but feel a pang of insecurity; he was strikingly handsome, and sometimes she felt her own beauty fell short.
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Amina's Outfit
Taking a deep breath, she decided to wake him for Tahajjud. She moved softly to his bedside, unsure of how to address him. She remembered how her mother never spoke her father's name out of respect. She whispered, "Suno..." But he didn't stir. She tried again, a bit louder, "Suno, it's time for Tahajjud. You'll miss it." Still, he lay unmoved, deeply asleep, likely due to the sleeping pills. Tentatively, she reached out, giving his shoulder a gentle shake. A shiver ran through her as her hand made contact with his arm; it was the first time she'd ever touched him.
Finally, he opened his eyes, squinting at her sleepily. "What?" he barked, his voice rough with irritation. She flinched but managed to respond, "It's Tahajjud time..."
"So what?" he replied, his tone thick with annoyance. "We need to pray," she said, trying not to provoke him.
"Don't act so pious in front of me. I know your real face," he shot back, anger flaring in his gaze. "And don't ever disturb me or touch me again," he muttered, turning over and pulling the blanket over his head.
Amina stood there, feeling the sting of his harsh words. What have I done to deserve this? she thought, fighting back tears. Slowly, she spread her prayer mat across the room, lowering herself to pray, pouring her heart out to Allah. "Ya Allah, please guide my husband back to Islam, soften his heart toward me, grant me patience, and help me to be a wife who pleases You. Ya Allah, grant my parents a long and healthy life," she whispered, her voice breaking as she wept quietly.
She glanced over at her husband, sound asleep, his anger forgotten while she remained haunted by his words. How can I pretend to be pious? This is who I am, and I know I am far from perfect. I only try to please my rab. The confusion gnawed at her. And what did he mean by saying he knows my real face?
Gathering herself, she reached for her Quran and began reading Surah Yaseen, finding some solace in its familiar verses. By the time she finished, it was time for Fajr. She thought about waking him again, but his earlier words echoed in her mind, and she hesitated. Instead, she prayed Fajr alone, using a few moments afterward to meditate and steady her mind.
