WHISPERS OF ENCHANTÉ

66: taste of care

Kaduna State, Nigeria.

The honeymoon was over. Not that it was ever a honeymoon for either of them. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, except that they were now each other's mahrams. After the game, they were told it was time to pack up and return for the real wedding to take place. 

Yasmin had managed to evade the entire event by claiming she would be the event planner, meaning there wouldn't be time for her to be a bride. Abdullah wasn't particularly keen on events either, but he had told her that if she wanted one, he would participate. 

It's been a week since their return, and they've been running around with Hajiya Lubabatu, handling the event preparations. Everything had to be perfect, and Yasmin was getting free decoration items because of the wedding.

Before they came back, they even went decor shopping in Birmingham, picking out items in the same theme Siyama wanted. She was an enthusiastic bride, chiming in about everything, and since her sister was her event planner, she knew nothing could go wrong. 

All those nights they had spent talking about their future weddings, the promises they made. Yasmin had vowed at tender age of thirteen that she would decorate Siyama's wedding one day, In Shaa Allah. Now, that day was here, and she couldn't be more emotional whenever she thought about it. 

As soon as Yasmin mentioned to Hajiya Lubabatu that she had to borrow most of the decorations from her mentor, Madam Gloria, the older woman gave her a sharp look and waved —and might she add, aristocratic— dismissive hand.

"No, no, no. I don't want excuses. We will buy everything ourselves. This is my son's wedding and we are not borrowing anything!" Hajiya Lubabatu had said firmly pushing her reading glasses to the bridge of her nose.

That was how Yasmin found herself buried under an endless checklist of wedding décor. The list kept growing from luxurious canopy tents for the outdoor reception, chair covers in silk and chiffon, extravagant table runners embroidered with gold accents, and crates of wine glasses stacked in neat rows. 

The flowers alone were a whole mission with bundles upon bundles of red roses, cherry blossoms, and hibiscus to match the bridal theme, mixed with seaweed-green hydrangeas and lush ferns for contrast.

Yasmin had to personally oversee the selection of cascading floral centerpieces, floral archways, and even flower walls for the perfect picture spots. She hadn't forgotten anything she had planned for this wedding. Not a single detail.

Then came the details that only the best event planners considered. The gold-rimmed dinnerware, custom charger plates, crystal chandeliers hanging from the tent's ceiling, scented candles to add warmth to the ambiance, and personalized wedding favors wrapped in silk pouches. 

Everywhere she turned, something new was being added. Dessert tables needed intricate glass trays, the VIP section required plush velvet chairs, and the dance floor had to be decorated with twinkling fairy lights and floating lanterns. 

Hajiya Lubabatu watched all this with a satisfied nod, arms crossed over her chest. "Good. Now, this is a wedding fit for my son. No one will say we didn't do it properly." 

Yasmin exhaled, staring at the never-ending list in her hands with an exhausted smile. "At this rate, the only thing we're missing is a throne for the bride and groom." 

Hajiya Lubabatu turned to her with a serious expression. "Why is that not on the list?"

Yasmin had stared at her like she had grown two heads making the older woman laugh along with Seema who knew —from everything she's noticed about her mother-in-law— she wasn't joking about the crown. Go bigger or go home.