Nusayba

Part Eight

Part 8

Aamir stared at his room. It was bare, basic and simple down to the last thing in his room. He had never lived in this room. He visited, without a doubt, but he didn't see the need to furnish it and personalise it. As he took in the white, unstained walls, he wondered if perhaps, he shouldn't have tried to make it seem a bit more lived in. Would Nusayba mind that the walls were bare? That there was nothing in the room to say that this was his room apart from his clothes? What would she think? Irritated with himself, he sunk his shoulders, slumping at the stress he was bringing on himself. He knew Nusayba, granted not as well as he would like, but she was someone who was quite understanding herself.

She would not judge him for not trying to make the space feel like home. She knew that he lived in Cape Town. Nusayba would understand ... he hoped. However frustrated he was with the room, he knew that he had to make just the tiniest bit of effort to make it seem like a bridal suite. What does a bridal suite even entail? Should he have them waste red roses to scatter across the floor? Should he have them place the roses in a heart shape on the bed, or would that be too much?

Most importantly, how was he actually going to propose to her? He had a faint idea, but would it pan out? Would it work? What if she rejected him? What if she embarrassed him in front of everyone? What ... what if he mistook her kindness? What if she didn't feel the same way for him?

No, he tried to comfort himself, her brothers asked what had taken him so long. They would not have asked him that if she hadn't expressed some sort of feelings for him. "Yeah, yeah," he echoed. "You can do this."

As he gave himself a pep talk, Aamir stripped the bed of the sheets and began finding the best bedding that he owned. He wanted to decorate and clean the room by himself. He wanted this to be the first step of their marriage, he wanted to show Nusayba that he could take care of her, that he was worthy of her, that he would always be there for her.

Then, as if lightning had struck him, he shouted for Yasmeen to bring him a page and some pens. When she brought him the requested items, she sat on the bare bed next to him. Her eyes prickled with curiosity, watched his every move like a hawk bent on their prey. "Are you writing a letter to Nusayba didi?"

He gave her a dull stare. "No, I'm drawing her portrait. Can't you see?"

Yasmeen shoved him with her dainty shoulder, barely making him move at all, but it had the desired effect. Aamir struggled to balance properly and dropped the pen, which landed with a loud clattering sound. "See what you have done!" he hissed at her.

Used to having Irfaan grumble at her all the time, Yasmeen just laughed at her older brother. "You're so old that you can't even manage to hold a pen properly in your hands, but you want to marry someone as beautiful as Nusayba didi?"

He huffed as he bent to pick up the pen, then moved with all the papers in his hands to the desk in the room. Contemplating the right words to start the letter off with, Aamir stared at the blank page.

"Think of what you really want to tell her, bhai," Yasmeen said sagely. "List all the reasons that you love her. Of why she is the one that you have chosen to marry."

Annoyed, he spun around on the chair and gave her a dirty look. His dark eyebrows furrowed, his face contorted into a look of irritation. "I know what I want to say to her!" he almost yelled. "I just don't know how to begin." Aamir slammed the pen down and cradled his face in his hands as he tried to find the words.

Yasmeen smirked. "Maybe start with 'Dear Nusayba'..." Sensing his distress, she stood up and went to wrap her arms around his shoulders. "Don't worry, bhai, you will figure it out. And you know what?" She pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I love you, and I am really glad that you chose someone who is so kind, so selfless and loving like Nusayba didi."