Less Than Perfect

{17} The Golden Knot

Kanza Hadad

When I heard the holler of my older brothers, I could only narrow my eyes at their foolishness. How they got married before me, I had no idea.

"Yo, our sister is getting married!" cheered Naeem, the eldest Hadad sibling, his wife and daughter right behind them.

His wife, Amal, was roughly in her late twenties with Naeem, a woman of Arab descent and incredibly talented in computer science. Naeem would often joke that his wife was the real moneymaker of their household. Her dark eyes held the same humor in them as her husband, the same spark of mischief that was passed down to their child.

In her arms, she held my three-year-old niece, Nadine, a perfect blend of both her parents. She had her father's eyes, her mother's soft features, and a head of untamed curls like Naeem and I.

Amal pressed a kiss to my cheek in greeting. "Congratulations, Kanza!" she smiled before turning to her daughter. "Can you say congrats to your auntie?"

Nadine pouted, outstretching her arms towards me. "Play with me," she said in her adorable tiny voice, a cute plea and starry eyes that made me go weak with my resolve.

I quickly scooped her into my arms, blowing raspberries on her chubby cheeks. "I would love to play," I laughed. "But unfortunately, your aunt has to prepare for her wedding."

"Why?" she frowned.

"Because you're going to get a new uncle In Shaa Allah (if God wills it)."

"Will he play with me?" she prompted.

Naeem took a stand by his wife, helping her smooth the wrinkles on her hijab, a look of fondness entering his gaze. He was the first to get married out of all my siblings, and his marriage wasn't one our parents decided. No, he made me believe in love when he found the woman of his dreams.

They knew each other since childhood, and as they aged, the cherry blossoms of love grew between them. Though they only shared a few words in adulthood, kept their distance, no one could deny the seedling of bliss that came from their hesitant gazes. He was in love.

I stared down at my niece. A product of the love her parents shared, one I prayed that I would have with Tanwir, that he would come to share the same strong feelings for me.

In Shaa Allah (if God wills it).

"How about you play with the twins?" I suggested it to Nadine. She eagerly nodded, practically begging me to drop her, and I did with another laugh.

My second eldest brother, Tayyib and his wife, Hadiya, had twins named Fahad and Farooq. They were a year younger than Nadine, but the trio got along as well as siblings. They bickered as much as my younger brothers and I did, but then again, what family didn't argue?

Unlike Naeem and Amal, Tayyib's marriage was one that our parents had a bigger role in. My brother was a quiet, reserved man. He hated socializing and stayed far from women since he was child. He preferred his solitude or his quiet room, but of course when it was time to marry, he handed the reins to my parents, knowing their choice would be his best route.

And so, he found Hadiya, a Moroccan-American woman who looked strict and cold on the outside, but had a heart of gold and blushed like a new bride whenever her husband whispered sweet nothings to her like he was right now.

His dark brown eyes were hooded, staring lovingly at his wife as he spoke to her in a soft tone, gentle, his hand resting on the curve of her waist. He stood behind her, and she playfully pushed him away.

Her skin tone reminded me of a hot latte on a Monday morning, warm and the only good part of the day. Like all of my sister-in-law's, she also wore her hijab proudly and flawlessly, might I add. She had a sense of style I could only hope to admire.