"Listen to me Qurratul Ayn, before you go, I want to know; did I ever offend you? Is my love for you too little?" I can feel his hand hovering over mine. He wants to hold it, but he knows better than to do that.
"Please, I don't want to do this now...
I have never felt so tired in my entire life. No one told me weddings are so stressful. I don't even want to marry again. This is just Ruqayya's wedding, and I'm this tired. What happens when it's my wedding then?
It's not like I can even get married. I mean look at me. Why would someone in their right senses want to marry someone skinny, dark and short? That's such a bad combo.
I sigh and push the duvet off my body as I stand up to pray Subh. The sun is already shining through the slightly drawn windows and instead of me to rush and pray my missed prayer, I'm laying there thinking about how I won't get married because of marriage stress.
I wonder why Ruqayya didn't wake me up. I look to her side of the bed to find that she isn't there. Typical, the bride jitters had her awake early probably and the aunties won't let her rest.
I walk to the bathroom and perform ablution after brushing my teeth. I come out and pray Subh before deciding to go and see if there's anything I can help with, despite the fact that the bed looks very inviting. A little too inviting.
I make the bed and tidy up the room. I am cleaning the drawers and ridding them of the things Ruqayya and her cousins kept there last night when they were having the "last night as a single lady" stuff. My eyes catch a phone and I frown. That's Ruqayya's phone. I pick it up to find that it's dead.
I quickly plug it to charge and it comes to life before I go back to the dressing mirror. That's when I find three papers, each folded once and kept carefully atop the order. That's weird. I open the first one and my frown becomes deeper as I read the words in Ruqayya's handwriting.
Soon enough, my frown turns to a surprised look once I reach the end of the handwritten letter. No way in hell this is true. It just can't be. I look at the paper again and read it.
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I unfold the second paper, hoping, praying to Almighty Allah that this is some sick joke and that Ruqayya will burst into the room any time soon and laugh at my shocked face.
My shock only heightens when I read the second paper which is directed to Abba.
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