A Promise | 🗸

37 | a bridge to unknown territory

please catch up on anything important before reading, this is a LONG chapter, (3000+ words). Don't forget to breath as well :)

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37

Ramadan had swiftly gone by. Through all the Prayers, parties, and wedding planning, it went by so fast - too fast for my liking. It was finally Eid. My last Eid as a single woman. I couldn't get that out of my head. Since the Iftar party, I hadn't seen Zayn since, but Asma Aunty and the twins would always come by to discuss the wedding, and they always brought gifts claiming they were from Zayn. After discovering what happened to Zayn's parents, I didn't speak of it, nor did I ask any more questions. I figured once we were married, once he was comfortable, he'd tell me. I already felt terrible for prying it out of Bhabi.

I was now gently applying some glitter on Zara's eyelid. Every Eid prayer we wear matching Salwar Kameez's, it was something Mama had been doing for years and still do this day we do the tradition. After Eid prayer, once we come home, we change into more of a comfortable outfit. Zara and I were wearing matching lace salwar kameez's. I was wearing a rosy pink, and Zara was wearing a beautiful lilac.Zara started to sniffle as I was applying her foundation,
"What's wrong Habibti" I asked,

"This is your last Eid with us," She said sadly.

"Zara love, I'm not dying; I'm just getting married," I said, rolling my eyes,

"Still, who would do my makeup in the morning or feed me Rasamalai in the morning? You'll be living with Zayn Bhai in that stunning apartment," She said; I hadn't thought about that. Bhabi had told me after the Nikah I'd be staying at Uncle and Aunty's house, and then a couple of days later, we'd be moving into his- or I should say our new apartment. That made me so incredibly nervous, just the two of us and 1000 square feet.

"Well, I could always come to visit, or we'll just have to get you married, so your not alone," I said, making her giggle.

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"Okay, now Mama, you stand in the middle while I hold Maryam," Zara instructed; we all shuffled spots as Bhai groaned, getting tired of his cameraman job.

For once, we had arrived at the Eid Prayer early, and we all were taking pictures; we were in the middle of taking pictures when I saw Angie walking up to us,

"Angie!" I squealed, "Eid Mubarak! Oh my god, it's your first Eid; ah, you look so good, Mashallah!" I squealed, hugging her. Angie was wearing a stunning Maxi dress with a floral print, and her head loosely wrapped in a white scarf. According to Angie, her Ramadan went very smoothly. She had spent many Iftars at my house. We'd eat, pray, and then she'd help plan the wedding. I was glad that the wedding planning was finally over; as fun, as it was, it was exhausting. Tomorrow was my Gaye Holud, which was just an all-girls party - or as Angie described as my Bachelorette Party without all the drinking, the next day was my Nikah, where I'd officially be getting married. Then the following Saturday was the Walima, which was the reception. In between all of that, there were little parties and such. I tried to get myself out of as many as I could as the Bangladeshi ceremonies had nothing to do with Islam and were more cultural. But Mama insisted we still had to do some of the cultural events.

"Last Eid as a single lady," Angie squealed; I groaned, "Why does everyone keep reminding me."

She looked ahead, her face turning red, "What's up?" I asked, turning around,