Journey to 'I do'

22- Rabia's Events.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of pink and orange across the sky, I found myself enveloped in a whirlwind of excitement. Tonight marked the beginning of Rabia's wedding events, starting with the vibrant Henna Party. With my hands adorned in intricate henna patterns, I took a moment to revel in the anticipation that hung in the air.

In the warm glow of the evening, draped in a beautifully patterned Ankara fabric, The vibrant hues of brown and orange interwoven in the fabric reflected the joyous spirit of the occasion. I went to Mamma's room to grab an orange scarf to match my outfit and I decided to accessorize with a green bag. I stood with a sense of anticipation as I prepared to step into the enchanting world of Rabia's Henna Party.

As I added the finishing touches to my attire, the rhythmic melodies of celebratory music wafted through the air, setting the stage for a night filled with cultural richness and heartfelt traditions. I stepped outside the gate to welcome Faiza, who had just been dropped off after spending the day at her friend's house. "You look nice," I complimented her.

"Thank you, Ya A'isha," she replied.

"Let's take a picture," I suggested, and we took turns photographing each other before I asked her to find a seat while I checked on the preparations.

Taking a seat beside Rabia, the henna artist began adorning my hands with a rich red hue, chosen to complement both my skin and feet. As we sang songs and engaged in lively conversation, others joined in, eagerly awaiting their turn for intricate henna designs. Ahmad arrived with friends, showering Rabia with joy and money, radiating happiness as a beautiful couple.

As the event wound down, I lay beside Rabia on her bed, planning to stay and support her throughout the upcoming wedding events. While she texted Ahmad, I reached out to Muhammad.

Muhammad Salman: Let me see my baby's hands since I have to ask.

Me: Haha, sorry, I'll send you a picture.

*2 snaps*

Muhammad Salman: MashaAllah, so beautiful. This red looks amazing; wear it all the time.

Me: Thank youuu.

Muhammad Salman: So why's my name not there?

Me: You haven't earned that privilege yet. With so many eligible bachelors at the wedding, I don't want to scare them off.

Muhammad Salman: Tread carefully.

We continued our conversation until I drifted into a peaceful sleep.
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The next morning as Rabia indulged in the Gyaran Jiki pampering rituals, I settled down to have my hair meticulously weaved by one of Aisha's cousins.

"Iinnalillahi, gashin ki kenan A'isha?" she exclaimed as she untied my hair to start her work and I couldn't help but chuckle. My hair cascaded down to the middle of my back.

My mother's genetics blessed me with long and somewhat silky hair, though its texture didn't always favor braids for an extended period. Within 40 minutes, my hair transformation was complete, and I joined the household's bustling activities.

By late afternoon, various makeup artists and Hannan arrived, marking the beginning of our lively makeup session filled with banter, compliments, and genuine girl chats. The vibrant atmosphere reminded me of the joy of womanhood.

Pulling out my atampa from its bag, the gold designs on the fabric glistened. I slipped into my dress, struggling slightly at the hips. Worriedly, I wondered, "Did I gain weight in just one week?" Managing to zip up the dress with Hannan's help, I expressed my concern, only to receive playful compliments about my shape.