Journey to 'I do'

44 - The End

Muhammad's POV

As I prepared for my morning gym session, my mind drifted back to the whirlwind of emotions from our wedding festivities. I couldn't shake the memory of the shy blush that adorned Aisha's cheeks when my friends had teased us about kissing during the sayan baki ceremony. Her smile, after the knot had been tied, had illuminated the room, imprinting itself in my mind with a warmth that lingered long after the festivities had ended. My whole body also felt weird and cold at the way she cried yesterday when everyone left. I know that I can't love her the way she wants, the way she deserves.

The image of her in her pajamas from yesterday lingered most prominently in my thoughts. Her hair, long and lustrous, cascaded down her back, a sight that stirred something primal within me. And her figure, that made me hard. I had to excuse myself hastily, lest my desires betray me in a moment of weakness. Fuck. This woman is turning my emotions and my life upside down.

As I made my way to the gym, I caught up with Umar. After our workout, I was hungry and our ritual was getting breakfast together. "Where are we going for breakfast?" I asked casually, only to be met with a pointed look from Umar.

"Baba, are you okay? Go and eat breakfast with your wife," he chided, his words carrying a weight of expectation that I found difficult to bear.

"I'm not into all this," I replied dismissively, a hint of defiance creeping into my tone.

"Don't tell me you forgot you were married?" Umar's incredulous question cut through my defenses, leaving me momentarily speechless.

"No," I muttered.

"Then go eat with your wife, that's what newlyweds do," he insisted, his tone brooking no argument.

But I resisted, unwilling to acknowledge the vulnerability that marriage demanded of me. "I'm not interested in playing house," I retorted, my pride refusing to yield to his well-intentioned advice.

"Gaskiya ka haukace."

"Kai da wa?"

"I'm fucking talking to you bro! This is not one of your relationships that you do anyhow you want. This is a marriage and—" Umar's response was swift and cutting, his words piercing through my defenses with a precision that left me reeling.

"A single man like you wants to advise me about marriage?" I challenged.

"Yes, I clearly know more than you do! As a friend it's my duty to knock some sense into you. Ba ka tsoron Allah ne? You can't be sending gifts today and acting like high school fuck boy tomorrow! Be kind to this woman! Allow yourself to be loved let your guard down this once in your life! I know you're scared but you'll never admit it." He lowered his voice and took a step closer to me, " Everytime you think of acting like a dick, ask yourself if your mother would be proud of your actions as a husband knowing how beautiful her own marriage was?"

His words struck a nerve, resonating with a truth that I had long been reluctant to acknowledge. "Don't speak about my mother," I snapped, the mention of her name a sore point that I was unwilling to confront.

Undeterred, Umar pressed on, his words a relentless barrage that struck at the very core of my being. "Whatever man. Go home to your wife, make a baby or something see you tomorrow same time. Safe"

His words cut deep, exposing the fears and insecurities that I had long buried beneath a facade of indifference. And as he spoke of my mother, invoking her memory, I felt a pang of regret wash over me, a recognition of the ways in which I had failed to live up to her example.

But before I could respond, Umar was gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the weight of his words heavy on my shoulders. With a heavy sigh, I turned to leave, grappling with the daunting reality of marriage and the responsibilities of it.