Bitter Sweet | (Published) ✔

{6} Wedding Hearts

Tasneem Uddin

I sat on the bench, smiling for the cameras. The red lehenga (traditional Bengali wedding garments) glittered. Flashing lights were at every corner of my vision. This attention on me was so unreal.  

Voices muffled over one another. I wasn't sure what anyone was saying. I saw teenage girls cooing at my outfit and makeup. I couldn't help the blush that placed itself upon my cheeks. Blood rushed into my ears as I felt my anxiety act up. 

Deep breaths, relax, I kept reminding myself. 

I was never one to be extremely social. If anything I was a hardcore introvert. I hated going out to desi parties or big gatherings. I hated too much attention on me. I hated not knowing what others were thinking of me at that moment. I knew the Bangladeshi community would be judging me for marrying out of our culture. I knew the Turkish community was disappointed that I was Ibrahim's wife. I wasn't Turkish. 

This was our cultural barrier. We were two completely different people who didn't belong together in the eyes of society. It hurt to know that people would never be okay with Ibrahim and I. It shouldn't bother me, but as I watched the fake smiles plastered on their faces I realized the inner thoughts they all had. The hushed whispers as the elderly ladies looked at me. 

My eyes dropped to the ground. Was it really that much of a shock that he married me? We'd only just signed the marriage contract this morning. I stiffened when a body sat down next to mine. 

"It's okay," a feminine voice whispered. Her voice was frail. She spoke as if she were speaking to a scared child. "Those people don't matter."

I looked up. "What?" 

Ibrahim's grandmother smiled at me. "You're thinking about the judgment from people about your marriage aren't you?" she asked me as her head tilted to the side in curiosity. 

I nodded.

"Don't think about them," she took my henna stained hands into her frail ones. "Those people don't determine the outcome of your marriage to my grandson."

"It's just hard," I admitted as I stared into the endless mass of people. 

"I hope what others say don't influence your behavior with my grandson," her voice was clipped with a hint of anger.

I frantically shook my head, "Of course not!"

"Good. Ibrahim has been through enough in his lifetime. He doesn't need a wife who will not treat him right," she spoke with a gentle softness when she spoke of Ibrahim. 

Will he treat me right? 

It was as if she could read my thoughts. She lightly slapped my shoulder and grinned, "Don't you worry, child. Ibrahim will give you his heart and soul if you can bear with him for some time."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

She sighed. "He's had a rough past. A past that none of us talk about," her eyes glazed over and she furiously wiped at them. "He's a really good boy, Tasneem. Please take care of him," she begged me.

"I promise I'll try my best," I reassured her. 

"That boy will get diamonds for you if it would keep you happy. He's a really good boy."

I stifled a laugh. I couldn't imagine Ibrahim being the romantic type. He was always so serious and uptight. It scared me. I wondered if he ever had any fun in his life. Did he even have a childhood full of joy? 

"When do I get to meet my mother and father-in-law?" I questioned as I scanned the room. I'd only met his grandparents and his brother. Where was the rest of his family?