The Royal Love

Chapter 4

Unknown:
Did you tell them about me?

Me:
Who?

Unknown:
Your husband.

Me:
Hassan... Umm, are you talking about my friends?

Hassan:
Yeah, I mean I am not angry or anything I love that you told them about us and I like them they are nice. But Kabeer and Zubair are weird.

Me:
🤣🤣kabeer is the most weird among us, he hates his innocent wife for no reason.
I mean I am sure he must have a reason, but my Fatima is very innocent, she can't do anything which harms him. It must be him.
And Zubair bhai is his best friend we don't know him much but my boys do hang out with him a lot.

Everything I said was ignored by him and the only thing he focused on was-

Hassan:
Since when did they become "your boys"?

Me:
Why? Jealous?

Hassan:
Would be a lie if I said I am not.

This guy, why is he so shameless? Ahem, I like it. I put my phone aside because today I need to complete my project.

Anyhow I have to submit it tomorrow, and I am already having anxiety.

My life has really been simple, I love things when they are simple, although I love adventure from time to time. But I need peace and stability in my life.

Before meeting Hassan I had doubts about my peace after marriage but now I somehow feel secure. Oh, I hate him in college and I still will. But outside that he will be my home.

Seventeen days later

"You are looking so pretty, my bestie is for sure the most beautiful," Zainab says.

"I guess you are forgetting about how beautiful Fatima was looking at her wedding last year." I remind them.

"Don't talk about her, I am convinced that she is an angel. She is so delicate in reality but at the same time so hard of other males." Mariyam speaks while fixing my dupatta.

My marriage is going to be simple, I didn't want a heavy party. We are getting married in a mosque, the rest money will be donated to orphanages and cancer patients.

"Except for her husband, I don't know what happens to her when she sees Kabeer. It's like she is happy but at the same time something in her is breaking." Zainab mutters.

"Let's not talk about her, I feel like breaking Kabeer's neck every time she is sad." Mariyam is now standing behind me looking in the mirror and smiling.

"You look perfect. Just a few days back I was dared to propose to him and now you are marrying him. And come on we all have seen how he looks at you." She says with a mischievous side eye and a devilish smirk.

"Hello, guys." A feminine voice dragged our attention to the source of it and there she was standing in her normal black abaya with a big smile on her face.

I get up from my seat and walk towards her.
"Hellllooooooo thanks for coming yaar," I say.

"Come on she had to come, Kabeer loves to flex his beautiful wife," Zainab says as she and Mariyam hug her and we all laugh, except Fatima who is now blushing.

I don't get them, they are such a mystery. Kabeer doesn't let anyone even look at his wife but we also know that he hates her. At least that's what he says.

"You are marrying a professor huh? Here she is living a dream, marrying a sugar daddy." Fatima teases. We all are readers and simp for fictional characters.

"He is 28 by the way, not that old." I clarify.

"Omo look who is defending her husband," Mariyam says, and we all laugh at it.

"Stop it guys," I say, I can feel myself turning red.

"Come on baby it's the time." My mom comes out of nowhere. The girl said salam to my mom and we went out.
Today is a big day, I am having so many emotions, but the most prominent of all is that I am feeling happiness from the inside. Yes, I am crying and I don't know if they are tears of joy or I am scared. Whatever it is, I am happy at least.

My mom made me sit and the maulana is so many things I don't even catch, so many thoughts are going through my mind.

"Do you accept this nikah?" That is all I hear when I feel my mom poking me.

"I do," I say.

And then he repeated it two more times and both times my mom had to poke me to bring me out of my thoughts.

Then within a few minutes, I hear his voice.

"I do," He says, and I don't know how and why all the thoughts dancing in my mind stop. All the tornadoes are put to an end and there is peace everywhere in my core.
It is like his voice pulls me out of my tension zone and comforts me saying "Everything will be ok".

A sudden noise of everyone congratulating me and my parents and Hassan reaches my ears.
So we are married now? Just like that? Wow.

I see a shadow approaching me and then two warm hands on the side of my head covering both my ears. When I feel his lips on my forehead that's when I look up at him.

He looks handsome in white, sherwani and there is a different kind of peace on his face.

He looks at me and our eyes meet. "Hey," He says, and I lowered my gaze while smiling.

Finally, I have a mehram, a husband, a home of mine.

"Congratulations my baby." My mom says pure smile and satisfaction on her face.

"Our baby is so big now." There are tears in my dad's eyes but I can tell he is happy. Obviously, he will be, did I tell you how much he loves Hassan? There has not been a single day since our engagement that my dad has not praised him.

Our engagement happened like old days, his family came with gifts and a ring and my family went there with the same. So in short that day at the restaurant was my first meeting with him. And that's the day I understood why my dad loves him so much. There is a different kind of aura with him. It feels like he is a strong wall you can lean on whenever you are tired. And he makes trusting of him a very easy process.

"Congratulations on being Mrs professor," Kabeer says.
"Don't say it like that," Fatima replies, it is the first time she has said anything in front of us in the presence of Kabeer. Otherwise, she used to run away just seeing him near us.

"Hey bhai, how does it feel to get married?" Zubair Bhai says with a mischievous smile. I look towards Hassan, now my husband who is already looking at me. "It feels like I am finally at home." He says while still looking at him.

Looking away from him I fan myself with my hands, this man is going to kill me with his sweetness.