His Little Neighbour

nine

Before she could bend down and remove it, Murat was already on the ground. Helping her without a second thought. She missed holding his hand almost immediately. He didn't even hold it for some fraction of seconds but Mashal wanted to hold them forever and ever. It was so comfortable to hold onto.

Gosh, she's so weird!

Another chorus of awes and cheers erupted from the cousins as they saw Murat pull out that little stunt. Mashal felt her breath hitch as he subtly winked at her and got up, holding her dupatta in his hands. He placed them back on her shoulders perfectly and held her hands, without asking her. As if, he had the right to hold them. He did, of course.

Mashal walked to the main stage along with Murat, her husband. The thought left her blushing furiously. She ducked her face and gazed at the floor, their fingers were interviewed so damn perfectly. She glanced sideways and noticed how handsome he looked in his off white sherwani, which matched her ice blue outfit. They looked so good together. A happy smile adorned her face.

"I can't believe all of this," Murat whispered as they clicked family pictures. The nikkah was a very intimate one, with hardly fifty people. They both wanted it this way and the families gave in without much defying. They all liked simple things even if they were wealthy enough. And a simple wedding wasn't all that bad.

For Mashal, it was a dream come true moment as she always wanted a small and intimate wedding. She smiled at her emotional parents, with a content smile on her face. They both sat together in the front row. Her mother looked like she had cried severely and was resting her head on her father's shoulder.

But how lucky are they that they'd still be seeing each other every other day, unlike the usual marriages. That was something which Mashal found comforting enough, otherwise, she'd have broken down into sobs a long ago. She can't imagine a life without her parents. They were her whole world. And was so glad to have them around, even after she was married.

"I'm still in a daze, you know... It feels like a dream and I'm scared to wake up from this," her voice sounded excited yet nervous. She was an anxious wreck, he looked very cool though. So confident and unfazed. With his usual charming smile.

"It's not a dream, Mashal." He whispered teasingly and smiled at her. She gazed at him longingly as he smiled. Gosh! He looked extra handsome when he smiled. She couldn't believe he was hers! This handsome man, her annoying neighbour was her husband now. She didn't think it'd be possible even in her wildest of dreams. But it was real. As real as it gets.

"Awe, Masha Allah. Look at you both," Mashal became stiff as she heard that familiar voice walking towards them. It was Amina auntie. The literal cupid of her life. She gave her the brightest smile and threw her arms around her, "thank you so much," Mashal's voice was barely a whisper and she mentally thanked God that Murat attended a phone call as they both talked.

Amina laughed before whispering back, "don't mention it. I'm so happy for you," she kissed her forehead lovingly.

"Without you, I know I wouldn't be standing here. So thank you, auntie. I think I like him very much now. But please don't tell about this to anyone," Mashal smiled sheepishly and Amina waved it off with a chuckle, "that's our little secret. I won't say a word. Just keep my nephew happy in return," she smiled teasingly at the end.

"I will." Mashal blushed hard as the photographer asked them to pose. Soon Amina's family joined them on stage. She had two daughters and they both seemed friendly so far.

Mashal felt welcomed as the whole Saeed family stood on the stage with happy smiles on their faces. From Hania, Saad to Syra and her little family to Amina and her kids. They were all so warm and there was no ounce of negativity like they always showed in the dramas and soap operas. The photographer captured all these beautiful moments. It was going to be framed in their living room, as told by Hania and he made sure it was lovely.