Juma'at kareem ya'll🌚
Today is Ni'imah's kamu, and we are gathered in Niinii's cozy room, indulging in snacks and chatter. Despite Mama's insistence, eating feels like a chore these days—everything I eat seems to come right back up. Ya Allah, pregnancy is a miraculous blessing, but it surely has its challenges.
Across the room, Dazeita is applying the finishing touches to Ni'imah's makeup. Even halfway through, she looks breathtaking in her white and gold dress that glimmers under the soft light. Meanwhile, I'm sprawled on Ni'imah's bed, phone pressed to my ear as I talk to Ibty. She's still in the UK, knee-deep in her exams, but she's flying back next week for her wedding preparations, insha'Allah.
"I seriously can't believe I'm missing Ni'imah's kamu," Ibty said, her voice tinged with frustration.
"Oh, you're missing a lot!" I teased. "Especially the bridal shower we threw yesterday. It was epic."
"Yeah, Ibty, you missed it all!" Ni'imah chimed in, her voice cheerful even as she sat through the final dabs of foundation.
Soon, Dazeita announced she was done, and we collectively gasped. Ni'imah was glowing, her beauty enhanced by the elegant simplicity of her dress and makeup. Phones clicked away as we captured the moment, showering her with compliments.
Ya Lou arrived, ushering us to get ready and head to the event venue. The groomsmen were tasked with escorting us, one of whom happens to be Ni'imah's soon-to-be husband. Downstairs, a mini photo session ensued before we moved to the cars.
As I walked out, I caught sight of Muhammad with his friends, laughing easily, his face lit with that handsome smile that always made my heart flutter. His eyes found mine, and within seconds, he excused himself and approached me.
"Hey, wifey," he said, wrapping me in a warm hug.
I squirmed, glancing around. "Babe, we're in public."
"And so? You're my wife," he replied with a teasing grin, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek. "How are you feeling? Have you eaten?"
"Yes, I've eaten. Stop worrying, Muhammad, I'm fine," I reassured him.
Ya Lou interrupted, urging us to hurry. I entered Muhammad's car, and we joined the convoy heading to the venue. The ride was filled with laughter and anticipation, a fitting start to the day's celebrations.
The afternoon flew by, and now we're back home, preparing for the dinner event. My room buzzes with activity as Sarah, Fareeda, and Basma—Muhammad's cousins—get their makeup done. Fareeda's phone buzzed incessantly with calls, and Basma was rummaging through my makeup bag for a concealer, mumbling about shades not matching.
The makeup artist worked her magic on me, and soon, I slipped into my outfit, draping a soft purple veil over my barely visible baby bump. I stood before the mirror, adjusting the folds, when Muhammad walked in. He stopped mid-step, his gaze softening as he took me in.
"You look breathtakingly beautiful," he murmured, stepping closer to kiss my forehead.
"Thank you," I said, my cheeks heating under his adoring gaze. "You don't look too bad yourself."
He chuckled, straightening his white kaftan and adjusting the cap. After snapping a few pictures together, we left for the venue, accompanied by Sarah, Basma, and Fareeda.
Hours later, the event wrapped up, leaving my feet throbbing. Back home, I changed into Muhammad's oversized shirt and flopped onto the couch, sighing.
"Ya Allah, my feet hurt," I whined, my voice thick with exhaustion.
"Do you want a massage?" Muhammad asked, his smile tender.
"Yes, please. Your child is making me tired," I teased.
"Our child," he corrected, emphasizing the "our" with a playful smirk as he slipped on his pajama shirt.
I laughed softly, "Yes, our child."
Settling into bed, Muhammad brought my legs onto his lap and began to massage them. His hands worked magic, soothing the ache in my feet. My eyes fluttered shut, and before long, I drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep.
**
The next morning, Muhammad gently shook me awake. "Layla, it's past nine. I'm leaving for the Daurin Aure."
I groaned, stretching lazily before springing up. The Nikkah! I quickly showered, dressed in a simple multicolored Ankara gown, and joined Muhammad, who looked dashing in his white kaftan and brown cap. Breakfast was quick, and we stepped outside for a mini photo shoot, both donning our Prada shades.
"Babe, you look hot," I said, showing him a picture on my phone.
He smirked. "Yeah? Now let me take one of you."
After capturing a few more shots, he dropped me at Mama's house before heading to the wedding fatiha. I felt someone's gaze on me as I stepped out of the car, a piercing stare that sent a shiver down my spine. Shaking off the unease, I entered the house and greeted the elders gathered in the living room.
Mama's warmth put me at ease, but one older woman, who bore a striking resemblance to Mama, barely acknowledged my presence. I smiled politely and excused myself, heading upstairs to find Ni'imah in her room. She sat nervously, a vision in her green and cream outfit.
"Ni'imatu Amarya," I teased, pulling her into a side hug.
"I'm scared," she admitted softly.
"Don't be. You're going to be fine," I reassured her, stroking her arm.
The rest of the day unfolded in a flurry of events, from the yinin biki to the kai Amarya. Each moment was filled with joy, laughter, and the overwhelming love of family. Ni'imah looked radiant, her happiness shining through every smile.
By the time we returned home, exhaustion weighed heavy on me. Muhammad was playing FIFA18 in the living room when I shuffled in. "Baby, I want pizza," I announced, plopping onto the couch.
"You just ate noodles," he said, not looking up from the screen.
"I'm pregnant, duh," I replied, rolling my eyes.
He sighed, conceding, and ordered my favorite pepperoni pizza. When it arrived, I was already dozing off, my head resting against the armrest.
"I'll eat it tomorrow," I mumbled sleepily. Muhammad chuckled, tucking a blanket around me before returning to his game.
As I drifted into sleep, the last thing I felt was a surge of gratitude—for my husband, our growing family, and the countless blessings that filled my life.
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I'm sorry for the boring like chapter, I promise to make it up to you in the next chapter inshallah😊
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MINE (EDITED)
RomanceAN ARRANGED MARRIAGE In the depths of tradition and societal expectations, a young woman named Layla finds herself caught in an arranged marriage to Muhammad, the son of her father's close friend. At just 19 years old, Layla embarks on a journey th...
