A Promise | 🗸

35 | bridezilla & ugly toes

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35

The sun was beaming through the windows, and my black Abaya glistened in the light. I gently wrapped the Maroon hijab over my head and went downstairs. My last Jummah before getting engaged. It was surreal; I never would've imagined me getting engaged. I always knew Marriage was essential but couldn't see myself in one. Mama always teased me about how all girls say they won't ever get married, but in the end, they do. I never liked hearing that I was content with being unmarried. But completing half of my deen has never sounded more promising. Zayn was a good guy. He would make an excellent husband and maybe even a good father. Inshallah

Voices could be heard from downstairs, Baba telling all of us to hurry up or we'll be late. After all, going early to Jummah was sunnah*. Trying not to trip over my Abaya, I ran downstairs, excited for what was yet to come.

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I sat on the cold marble floor, fiddling with the hem of my Abaya, as I listened to the Khutbah. Coincidentally, today's topic was marriage.

"Make sure you listen. This is important," Mama whispered with a wink when she heard the word "Marriage."

"Having a pious spouse is very rare to see among the youth these days. In a world full of premarital relationships and Zina, finding someone pious is hard. For the good men, Women impure are for men impure, and men impure for women impure, and women of purity are for men of purity, and men of purity are for women**...

All things around me were a blur. The feeling of tranquility while listening to the Khutbah and the calmness while praying. It felt amazing. All the butterflies in my stomach every bit of nervousness gone. 

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"Gajar ki hawla check, Rasmalai check. Mama, we forgot to make Suji Halwa!" I yelled, quickly grabbing the ingredients for the Halwa. Baking was my therapy. I was so anxious for the upcoming evening that I completely went crazy, making desserts. As I was mixing the Ghee, Bhabi and Maryam came to give me company. Bhabi insisted on helping me cook, but no one else is allowed in when I'm in the kitchen.

"Wow, Saima, already fattening up your fiance," Bhabi said teasingly as she played with Maryam.

"Not my fiance," I muttered, waiting for the water to heat up.

I heard a little "Not yet" from Bhabi but was too busy waiting for the water to boil to make a sarcastic remark.

"Look at your fupi. She's going all crazy for your Fufa," Bhabi whispered to Maryam, who let out a little cry. I let the Halwa sit and went over to little Maryam. She was absolutely adorable. With her rosy skin and button nose, I just wanted to eat her up.

"How are you feeling, Saima?" Bhabi asked, a slight tease in her voice.

That was a good question, "Nervous," I said, playing with Maryam's coarse black hair. I tried not to think about everything that would go disastrous, but it was tough not to.

"All will go well, Inshallah," Bhabi mumbled.

I hummed in response and continued on my Halwa.

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"Okay, game plan, when they arrive, Saima stays in the kitchen until we call you in so you have a grand entrance. Then, Zara, you bring the tea and cookies, and we do some chit chat. After that, Aunty Asma will probably give you the ring, and we'll all take pictures and talk then we eat!" Bhai said, making us all huddle like we're in a football game.

"Okay, enough of this, let's get you ready," Mama said, tugging me upstairs.

I walked in to find a sleeping Maryam, Beside her lay a beautiful lilac Salwar Kameez with the cutest Palazzo pants. The lace detailing was absolutely mesmerizing. Beside that was a Silver hijab and a pair of flats.

"I have to wear shoes? Inside my own home?!" I said as quietly as possible, trying not to wake up Maryam.