•
TOGETHER WITH THEIR FAMILIES
Fatimah Khan
and
Zayaan Haidar
Invite you to celebrate their marriage
ON SUNDAY 2ND AUGUST 2020
At 1PM
Venus Park Venue, London
Followed by an Evening Reception
At Raven Park Hotel, London
R. S. V. P
BY 17TH JULY 2020
May Allah Bless This Nikah
جَزَاكَ ٱللَّٰهُ
•
I FLIPPED OVER THE invitation again, miffed at but also admiring its perfection.
The wedding invite was absolutely beautiful, with a colour scheme of rich gold and ivory with black hints here and there. It was printed on pearlescent paper, which gave it a little sparkle — a shimmer and soft glow on top for added elegance. It was an Amelie laser-cut design, the two parts on each side of the main part, folding into a "lace" envelope style of sorts. In short, it was absolutely stunning; a simple design with rich and fancy hints, making it exactly what I'd wanted since I knew what weddings were.
But, of course, just like every other monumental event in my life, I'd imagined that wedding with Logan, with his name decorated under mine. Now, the dream couldn't even stay a dream as it had started to burn into ashes. Despite the new plan that we'd worked out.
"Your glaring a laser into the invitation isn't going to change anything."
I turned to stare at the side-profile of my fiancé. But the only thing that stood out to me as usual was his chiseled jawline, clean-shaven and freaking perfect. It seemed that I always found myself in awkward situations with him, alone, and in a car. But this time, I was determined to make it as less-awkward as I could.
"Nope; just admiring its perfection," I responded to his comment, watching his lips tip up at my half-lie.
"Of course."
"Zayaan," I called, hesitant and hoping that he wouldn't refuse my request.
"Yes?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"Go on," he said, eyes still firmly focused on the unfamiliar roads of Istanbul. The two weeks in Iran had gone by in a flash, the myriad of faces I saw blurring together, but the luxury and opulence of everything still vivid in my head. Now, the two of us were in Turkey as per plan.
The day before, we'd been in Şanlıurfa, giving invitations to distant relatives there, and since the car travelling distance between the two cities was a little over twelve hours, we'd had to stop and stay at a hotel. Zayaan had asked for two rooms, and I didn't know whether I was disappointed I couldn't talk and find out more about him, or relieved that I'd have my privacy.
"Alright, so you know how we're going to get married?"
He rolled his eyes at the obvious fact. "Yes, I do know how we're getting married, my dear fiancée."
"Well, I figured that we're becoming husband and wife and literally know next to nothing about each other."
"So?"
"So, why don't we ask one another questions to learn more about each other?"
"Seriously?" He frowned, most probably wondering why we needed more information on each other, because his mother had already told him everything there was to know about me, unlike mine.
"Seriously. Please?"
"Fine," he relented.
I suppressed an excited squeal and dived head-first into my list of questions. "Okay, I'll go first. How long did you live in the UK for during your childhood? Since you, Nezrin and Zakariyah all have English accents, even though you also live in Iran and were born there."
"I grew up in Iran until I was seven-years-old. But something had happened to threaten our safety, and my parents felt that Iran wasn't the safest place to bring up children, so they moved us here to stay with my best friend and his mother. They occasionally stayed with us, but they usually had important things to deal with back home."
"Oh." I frowned. That wasn't what I expected at all. "And Zakariyah was four when you were seven, right? And Nezrin wasn't born yet?"
"Nezrin hadn't been born yet, no, but after she'd turned three in Iran, our parents had moved to London. They bought a house there, wanting to be with their children, and said that work wasn't as important as us. Zak had been four, but he only came to stay with me a year after I arrived here."
"Wow. So, you—" I started only to be interrupted by him.
"My turn." Zayaan interrupted me. "Why do you choose to be called Faithe when your given name is so much more beautiful?"
I started to rapidly shake my head. "No, it's not. Fatimah is such an... old-person name. And, I don't know, kids used to tease that I was 'Fat-Fatty-Fatimah' when I was younger, so it just put me off the name."
He raised an eyebrow. "What does it matter what they teased you when you were younger? You're essentially letting the bullies win by changing your name."
"I honestly don't know what you have against the name Faithe. It's a perfectly nice and normal name."
He looked like he had more to say but gestured for me to continue.
"How did you come to adopt Riyad?"
"I haven't adopted Riyad — yet. He's not legally my son, but a piece of paper and blood doesn't only determine family." He tapped his chest, over his heart. "It's who you have in here that matters."
I blinked, taking in his earnest expression and my lips curved up at his words. "True." I paused. "So, how did you come to know Riyad?"
"He was my best friend, Rafiq's, son. After he—" Zayaan cleared his throat, eyes hardening and seemingly struggling to find words. "After he passed away, Riyad's grandmother and I both wanted to take care of Riyad. So, he splits his time with both myself and her. You haven't seen her yet since she went away to stay with her cousin."
Oh, no. Your stupid, big mouth, Faithe. "I didn't know— I'm so sorry, Zayaan. I'm sorry."
"No, it's fine. You didn't know."
I still felt bad and attempted to change up the conversation, though he spoke before I could.
"I'm sure we can come back to this game later. We've made it to the first of your relatives' house. Ömer and Ayla Yıldız."
════════
I SIGHED IN irritation, feeling like this was getting nowhere.
"No, you have to understand. I need two rooms. Two separate rooms."
The hotel clerk woman gave me a polite smile that was slowly starting to waver. "Ma'am, this is the peak season. The entire hotel is packed, and so two separate rooms are not available. There is only one, which you can have if you'd like."
I barely held in a withering glare at her words, annoyed that Zayaan had left me to deal with this alone, when I'd suggested it in the first place.
After giving out the invitations and visiting a total of thirteen relatives' houses, who all kept pleading with us to stay and have something to eat, we were completely knackered. One or two snacks may have been alright, but after giving us their congratulations and confirmation that they would be at the wedding, they'd all stuffed us with plenty of sweets and desserts, making Zayaan and I extremely tired by the end of the day with stomachs so close to bursting.
We'd planned to stop at a hotel and had made a booking earlier, and so when Zayaan had driven around the entire parking lot, trying to find an empty spot, which had started to seem like an impossible feat, I offered to go in and get our rooms keys while he parked. He'd agreed and given me his card which I'd promptly refused but he shoved it into my hands and practically kicked me out the car.
What an asshole, I know.
And that left me in my current predicament, struggling to get the keys to the rooms that we had already booked. The clerk woman had first tried apologising that the one of the two rooms we'd booked had been given to someone else, but now she was starting to look as annoyed as I felt — as if this was all my fault.
"Look, ma'am. There is only one room available. You can either take it or leave."
I was about to give her a piece of my mind when footsteps approached and a familiar voice asked, "What's wrong?"
I turned to explain the situation to Zayaan with a final look in the the lady's direction. "They gave one of the rooms we booked to someone else. And now, there's only one room available in the entire hotel."
He sighed, and stepped up closer to the desk in front of me. "There's only one room?"
I drilled a hole into the side of his head. That was literally just what I said.
She nodded at him, a slow smile forming on her face. "Yes, sir."
What a bitch.
I watched her cheeks flush as she said something to him with a coy smile, and my eyebrows furrowed, wondering why hotels hired people like her when they failed to be polite to visitors who were not male and attractive.
"We'll take it."
My mouth dropped open like a fish, and I stared agape as my fiancé grabbed the single key and turned back, guiding me forward. "You're okay with us staying in one, single room? I thought you were uncomfortable and booked two rooms yesterday, so I fought with her to get both rooms."
"Well, Ms Genius, did you not hear her when she said that she could have them bring up an extra fold-up bed for us?"
I blinked. "Really? When did that happen?"
"When you were too busy contemplating if you wanted to murder her or not. Come on."
Miss Clerk-Woman was a serious bitch. Acting all high and mighty with me, but when Zayaan appeared, she'd waggled her tail at him, desperate for the attention that he did not give, and suggested a solution that she'd failed to share with me.
I shook my head, embarrassed and annoyed.
Zayaan offered me a warm smile, catching onto my thoughts. "Don't worry about it. You were only trying to be nice. It happens to the best of us, Faithe. It's fine."
My eyebrows rose up to my hairline, and I blinked up at him in wonder. Did he just not tease me for acting completely stupid in front of him?
It was a shame that maturity actually surprised me after getting so accustomed to Logan and Aden's relentless teasing and stupid comments.
Zayaan scanned the key on the door lock when we reached our room on the seventh floor, opening it with a loud click. The first thing I saw when I switched on the lights was the humongous gold, diamond-encrusted chandelier, glaring its light out and brightening up the whole room. Next came the gold and brown colour scheme and the queen-size bed. Then the huge floor-to-ceiling windows displaying the sunset.
However, what my made my heart stop in my chest and my breath hitch was the fact that the bathroom was only separated from the bedroom with simple sliding doors — glass, translucent sliding doors.
Zayaan cleared his throat, interrupting my frantic thought process. "Are you alright?"
I shook my head. "Yes." Wait, what? I nodded my head and tried again. "I meant, yeah. I'm good."
"Are you panicking about the bathroom?"
Of course, I was. What else did he expect?
"When you need to take a shower, let me know. I'll go wait outside until you're done," he said, digging through his suitcase for something.
"You'll go outside?" I croaked out, shocked that he was willing to leave what was his room as well.
"Of course, I will. I can't stay in the room when you're showering behind glass doors. But you'll have to do the same for me, so don't feel too grateful."
"Of course." I fumbled with the zip on my own suitcase. "When are they bringing up the other bed?"
"They'll be here soon." Just as he finished saying that, a knock sounded on the door, and I beat him to it, opening the door wide open to the bitch at the reception.
She flashed the man behind me a wide smile. "Your bed is here, Mr Haidar."
My jaw tightened at the sight of her stupid, pretty face, opening my mouth to give a rude retort but gasped when Zayaan pulled me back by my waist, allowing the concierge man to pull in the fold-up bed. Which didn't look half-bad at all from my position. It actually looked pretty comfortable when the man pushed it open, setting it up a couple of feet away from the actual bed, the size of it similar to that of a twin bed.
"Thank you," Zayaan spoke to both of them with a small smile, pulling me back against him tighter by the waist.
"Oh, it was no problem at all, Mr—" The reception began, twirling a strand of her hair, but I cut her off.
"Look, lady, if you could please stop flirting with my fiancé, I'd really appreciate it," I said with a bite to my tone, watching her mouth fall open in horror.
"What—"
"You wouldn't really like it if I flirted with your man right in front of you, would you? So please don't do that to me. Or, anyone else for the matter."
Her eyes lowered and she pursed her lips. "You're right. I'm sorry, Ms Khan, Mr Haidar. I apologise for making the two of you feel uncomfortable."
I nodded. "It's fine. Thank you."
We watched the two of them leave in silence, and Zayaan pulled away to shut the door, immediately making me feel cold. "Didn't know I was your man, Faithe."
I blinked, not even realising I'd said that. "I didn't really mean it like that; I was just trying to get her to lay off the flirting. You are my fiancé, so to outsiders that would make you my man."
"Of course." His lips curved up slightly. "But, maybe I didn't mind her flirting? She didn't really need to lay off."
My jaw dropped. "I can go right down and tell her to resume her previous behaviour then."
"I don't think she'd do that even if you begged her to. You very much scared her off." He laughed, making me roll my eyes but smile.
"Anyway, do you mind if I take a shower now? I feel so icky from staying in the car and travelling all day."
"Of course not. I'll wait outside."
He left, leaving the key in the room in plain sight and I showered quickly, feeling weird that I could see the whole room as if there was nothing separating the bedroom and bathroom. I felt bad that Zayaan had to go wait outside and quickly pulling on my pyjamas, hair half towel dried, I yanked open to the door to overhear an end of a conversation at the end of the hall.
"He got arrested for vandalising the minister's property — not for a single crime he'd committed. He won't be released any time soon."
Who got arrested?
"Zayaan!" I called out, waving at him to get his attention.
He turned to me with his mouth set in a firm line, and with final few words to whoever was on the other end of the phone, he hung up and strolled back. "Done?"
"Yeah. And I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you mid-conversation. I just wanted to tell you that you're free to use the shower now."
"That's alright," he assured.
With that, he shut the door and I walked away with a tiny sigh, talking to myself. "Oh yeah, take your time. I don't mind."
I had absolutely nothing to while I waited, unlike someone else who was talking on the phone about arrests and bails, and so I just scrolled through Pinterest, as I often did when bored, and ended up saving all sorts of aesthetic pictures.
But when I came across one picture in particular, I paused. It was a girl in a red bindalli, a traditional Turkish outfit that brides wore on their kina gecesi. The celebration for embracing marriage and bidding bachelorhood farewell. The henna night was a deep part of Turkish culture, and it usually took place either the week or night before the wedding. Women adorned the bride with henna on both hands and feet, the henna seemingly protecting the couples from evil, or hell, even being evil.
Mine was happening three days before the wedding, and I hoped that I wouldn't be bidding bachelorhood goodbye for long.
If things all went according to my and Zayaan's plan.