What Not To Do When You're In Love

02 | Fault

02 | Fault

After morning came, I felt stranger feelings for Hasan. I now hoped he wouldn't leave the room, as much as I hadn't wanted to see his face last night.

He lay an arm's length from where I sat now, after showering and freshening up. He was scrolling through his phone, silent.

Someone had brought in tea and fruits for us earlier, which we had eaten without much talking.

As per stern instructions by mamma, I had dressed up in a flowy dress, used perfume and make-up, and put fresh flowers in my hair. I looked more or less like a bride, just more modest than last night. The way I was warned against it, it seemed to be a criminal act to dress simply for a few weeks after your marriage.

I was now sitting idly, as he lay idly, and we were both avoiding conversation.

Why is this so awkward?

I started wondering why he was not speaking. From what I had gathered from the stories of my married relatives and classmates, the first night and morning were times when the husband and wife spoke a lot, and got to know each other.

Well.

I was not very enthusiastic about this part, because I was clinically depressed and had no will to do anything. But I wondered why he was not speaking either.

Maybe he is shy? Shyness is not a bad trait in men.

But he was speaking to me last night. I decidedly ruled that possibility out.

Did I do something to offend him?

If that was true, I was not sure what I could do to fix it. Apologise without knowing why he was mad? No, that was not something I was going to do.

But you will. You have to, as a good Muslim wife.

I closed my eyes, trying to drown that voice with the weird tone which was echoing in the walls of my brain.

Everyone finds themselves in a situation like this, at some point - when we do unexpected things, when we can barely accept our own thoughts.

When we can't recognise the person we've suddenly become.

Our thoughts and actions make us who we are, but they keep changing. So how can anyone ever claim to truly know themselves? It is not something you can sketch out at a go. Because our characters transform so rapidly that no one can ever keep a record.

It takes a minute to decide, for ever and ever, against something that hurt us once. The same way, it takes forever to realise, after decades of pondering, the haqq of a matter.

And while some changes stay forever, some things change every other day.

This morning, spotting a calmness in my chest at the spot where I'd felt a flutter of discomfort all this time, I had shocked myself.

Where all this time I had wished not to be under the obligation to be around him, now, after having spent a few hours with him, I now started worrying about going out alone. There would be a hundred more wedding things waiting for me, along with his parents, siblings, and Allah knows how many relatives.

Yesterday was enough spotlight for a lifetime, for me. I didn't want to go out there again.

But, I didn't have a choice.

I turned to where he sat across the bed. He glanced at me.

And then he smiled.

I looked away.