Our Worlds

Introduced

Hajara 

If someone had told me that I'd be getting married in three days, I would've laughed, rolled my eyes, and gone back to bingeing random YouTube documentaries like nothing happened.

But apparently, I'm the bride.

And apparently, this is real life now.

I absolutely hated the fact that I had to get married. Right now. At this age. Like, I'm barely done with high school—I still say "bruh" unironically and lose my charger twice a week. What am I doing getting married?

Everything was happening way too fast. One minute I was dreaming about university, scholarships, internships—and the next, my mom was like, "You can still do all that, love. Yusuf will allow it."

Excuse me? Allow?

Don't get me wrong—Mom means well. She swears it's temporary. That we won't even live together until we're older, when it's safe to do so. Whatever that means. Right now it's just a nikkah. Just paperwork. Just a lifelong commitment. No big deal.

To be honest, I don't even know why I'm this upset. Maybe because it all feels like a joke I didn't agree to. Maybe because with marriage comes expectations—grown-up ones. And yeah, Yusuf doesn't seem bad or anything. He's... quiet. Polite. Built like he plays sports but never brags about it. It's actually annoying how calm he is while I'm out here spiraling.

A throat cleared behind me.

I turned around, way too fast, and almost tripped over my own feet. Standing there was Yusuf—of course—and next to him was Sarah, grinning like this was a high school musical instead of our forced cousin weddings. Seriously, doesn't she feel even a little weird about this? But no—last time she saw Benyamin, she was full-on blushing. I think she likes her fiancé. Uhh, Gross!

And now here I was, face blotchy from crying and the last person I wanted to see had found me.

"Hi," Yusuf said, awkwardly. His voice was deeper than I expected, but still unsure, like even he was wondering if this was a good idea.

I rolled my eyes and turned away, quickly wiping my face. Great. Now I looked like an emotionally unstable squirrel. Amazing first impression.

"Assalamu alaikum," I said flatly, eyes lowered. I remembered the ayah from Surah An-Noor—lowering your gaze, offering salaam. Islam still mattered to me, even if the rest of my life felt like it was falling apart.

He sat beside me slowly, careful to leave a good chunk of space between us. At least he had that much sense. We weren't married yet—and even if we were, I wasn't about to play happy couple just because our families suddenly decided to start doing surprise weddings like it's a new tradition.

"Wa alaikum assalam," he replied, glancing down at the grass. "Your dad asked me to come get you."

"I don't feel like going back in," I mumbled, staring up at the sky like it had answers. Spoiler: it didn't. "Everyone's acting like this is normal. Like we should just say thank you for being lied to our whole lives, smile for the nikkah photos, and move on."

He didn't say anything for a second, then sighed, "Yeah. I didn't know either. About us being cousins. Or... this whole marriage thing."

His voice was calm, but not fake. Just... steady. He looked down at his hands like he didn't know what to do with them, like he'd rather be anywhere else but was trying to be decent.

"It sucks," I said.

"Yeah," he agreed.

We sat there, in the garden that had always been my escape. The flowers still bloomed. The trees still swayed. Everything looked calm while my life was doing cartwheels in a blender.