Ruler of Your Ruh [a mafia romance ]

Chapter 13: Qubool Hai

Samina Hadid

My smile doesn't stay for long. I walk into the wedding hall with the dupata over my head, covering my face, and my smile turned into a scowl. I follow Zaynab, one of his escorts, to the hall where the Nikkah ceremony will be held. I look up for a second and stop walking.

Gold.

So much gold. MashaAllah, my eyes widen when I see the many chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Then I wonder... what if I climb up there and- no. I am not finishing that thought. Astaghfirullah. I mentally slap myself.

"Miss, we have to get there before the guests walk in," I nod an follow Zaynab.

Even though the marrage contract has been signed, the verbal, "Qubool's," or, "I accept's," haven't yet been said. We will be saying them today.

We reach the place where I'm to sit for most of the ceremony. I sit down and a few minutes later the guests begin to trickle in. My anxiety begins to wind its way back up. Breathe. Just breathe through it.

Once everyone has made their way in, they all want to see me, and talk to me, but I just say Salam, and don't talk much. The Imam walks in and sits a little distance away, and before I know it he also arrives.

I look down just as my face becomes hot, so I don't have to look at his stupid (beautiful) face. The Imam begins with a chapter from the Quran. I listen intently as it calms my nerves. Once he finishes, he gives a Khutba about the meaning of marriage in Islam, the rights and responsibilities of a husband and wife, and how we should treat each other. 

I lean over to Zaynab, who sits next to me, and whisper, "My head hurts."

She subtly looks at me and whispers back, "What am I supposed to do about that?"

"I don't know?! Give me some drugs or something before I go insane?"

She sighs, "Fine," then stands up to get me a pill of something to calm my headache.

The Imam has turned towards the two of us, "Now, to officiate this marriage, I ask that the both of you say Qubool three times each." He turns to Azim, "Do you understand Urdu?"

He nods, "Yes, I'm fluent."

The Imam goes on to ask both of us if we accept each other, "Qubool hai?"

"Qubool hai," we say in sync.

Another question, "Qubool hai?"

"Qubool hai."

Last question, "Qubool hai?"

Both of us pause, though it's only for a second, it feels like an eternity, "Qubool hai," Azim says.

The Imam turns towards me, and my voice is hoarse as I say, "Qubool hai."

~❀~

A/N: Salamu Ailacom♥️ Y'all. This chapter was so hard to write since I've never been to a Nikah or wedding at that ever in my life bc all my relatives live across the world. All my info was from videos of my cousins Nikah, and google :)

Anyways I Promise to fix any mistakes in my revision of the book wich will be once I finish writing it completely ♥️