Chapter 14 - After The Nikkah
"O People, it is true that you have certain rights with regard to your women, but they also have rights over you. If they abide by your right then to them belongs the right to be fed and clothed in kindness. Do treat your women well and be kind to them for they are your partners and committed helpers."
- Prophet Muhammad (SAW)
The day had finally arrived. The bride was going to be given away to the groom and his family. Waliya was a live wire. She could not sit still. She was nervous to make the move. Now that the time had come to leave her parents home and move on into her in-laws' home, she couldn't find the strength to do it.
Her hands were shaking and her legs felt like jelly. "Waliya," Asmaa said as she rounded her friend. "Masha Allah, you look absolutely beautiful," she praised her friend.
"You are seriously one of the most stunning brides ever," Jade said and wiped away a tear in her eye. "You look simply amazing."
"My word, Waliya. You will take away his breath when he sees you!" Tina gushed.
"I know!" Raeesa said. "He won't be able to handle it!"
Waliya rolled her eyes at her friends and then smiled sadly at them. The nerves were eating her alive. "Thank you guys," she breathed to them and turned to take one last glance in the mirror. She knew it would only be a few minutes before it was time for her to go to the Masjid for the Nikkah. Looking back at herself in the mirror was someone completely different. She looked like some sort of model. Flawless skin, pink tinted lips, light brown eye shadow and the silver scarf she had on made her look ethereal. The white and silver gharara she wore made her stand out under the glow of the light bulb.
She couldn't breathe as soon as her brother walked into the room. She knew what was going to happen.
"Assalaamualaikum, my little sister," Raihaan smiled at her. She let out a deep sigh and gave a weak smile to her brother. "Let's go, Waliya," he said and held out his hand to her.
She accepted it while her friends around her arranged her skirt. As she walked, her skirt moved like flowing water, yet her heart was pounding as if trying to escape her chest. Before she knew it, she was in the car driving to the Masjid.
After signing her Nikkah contract and posing for over one thousand photographs with innumerable family members and friends, Waliya was seated in the backseat of a Lexus which belonged to her husband. How weird it felt to say that word. Husband.
Suddenly, her life had altered in a space of a few hours. She wasn't sure how to feel about that. "Waliya," Aahil said in a quiet voice next to her.
"Jee?" she said softly, without raising her eyes to look at him.
He chuckled softly and the driver, who she noticed was his younger brother Jawwaad, chuckled along with Aahil. "Assalaamualaikum bhabi," he said in a young boyish type of voice.
"Wa'alaikumusalaam," she answered automatically.
"Jazakallah for making my brother laugh. It's been ages since he laughed."
Waliya was eager to turn and see her husband, but it was too engrained in her not to look at the other sex. She just couldn't break that habit, despite being alone in the car with two men. However, she soon realised that it was Halaal for her to look at him, her husband, her Aahil. She glanced up quickly and noticed him smiling down at her and that made her turn her eyes away.
"Waliya," he said again and she could hear the smile in his voice. "Waliya," he said when she didn't look at him. He then turned his body and took his right hand to turn her chin towards him, therefore forcing her to raise her eyes to him. Although, as soon as he touched her he felt her tense up. "It is okay, Waliya. You are now Halaal for me. I am not being stabbed with an iron needle through my head," he smiled at her as he alluded to the Hadith.
Waliya blushed under his intense gaze. His dark brown eyes stared at her, as if she were a flimsy sheet and he could see though all her walls, but she wanted to look away to avoid those eyes. She wanted to avoid those eyes that seemed like they could see through her. It made her feel weak, made her feel like she was just a speck of dust that he could see through. It unnerved her the way he seemed to look at her.
"Your hands are really soft," she said. Then she felt like an idiot. That had to be the first thing to come out of her mouth? She felt like a complete idiot. Imagine what he had to be thinking of her. Does he regret marrying her? Oh gosh. She felt the heat rush up her cheeks and she pulled her face away from his grip and ducked her head in her scarf from the gharara that rested on her shoulders.
He chuckled and then pulled her closer to him. "I will always remember that the first thing my wife said to me after the Nikkah was that I had really soft hands," he teased. Waliya just felt her cheeks get even hotter and hid her head even further down, away from him. "Don't hide," he spoke softly. "I love the blush on your face."
She was saved from speaking when Jawwaad announced, "We're here." Waliya shifted to the end of the seat and opened the door, but as she struggled with her heavy and beaded skirt, Aahil was already leaning down and helping her to lift it up. By the time she was out of the car, her bags and stuff were already taken upstairs. As she looked up, she was astounded. The flats were made of face brick, with a modern face and golden gates. A few rooms had their lights on, but one of them stood out to her. It was the flat that faced the side and that was where the balcony was. But the balcony was decorated with balloons and banners that said 'Just Married' hung off the balcony.
"Oh gosh!" Aahil moaned as he said that. "I'm sorry I trusted my friends," he said apologising to Waliya.
She smiled at him, her earlier bashfulness at the stupid comment forgotten. "It's okay," she said tiredly. It was past twelve o' clock when they left the hall after all the eating and photos that were taken. It must have been even past two o' clock that they reached the flat and Waliya was dead on her feet. She hid a yawn behind her hand and then blushed when he caught her.
"I'm really tired too," he said.
"Maaf," she apologised. "Maybe it was a bad thing to have the Nikkah after Esha."
He shook his head and walked closer to her, ushering her to walk first into their new home. Then he smirked to himself as a devilish thought came into his mind. He walked up behind her and swept her off her feet into his arms. She let out a little surprised gasp and grabbed him tightly. He smiled warmly down at her as she held onto his silver suit blazer over his white kurtha, she was afraid as if he would drop her. What a silly notion. By Allah's grace, he finally had the woman he wanted to marry for the last four years. If Allah allows it, he will spend the rest of their life ensuring that they both get to walk into Jannah alone. "You should put me down," she spoke as she hid her face in his neck.
He knew the bristles of his beard would tickle her, but he was pleased to see that she didn't shy away from it. "Why?"
"Because I am heavy," she muttered and grabbed his blazer even tighter as he began climbing up the stairs. "And this gharara doesn't make me any lighter."
He chuckled, but it was slightly strained. "What do you weigh? Like 55kgs? I bench at least 88kgs, Waliya," he told her, but not in a manner that was bragging, but rather as a statement of fact.
"But this gharara..." she tried to argue.
"Makes you weigh only 65kgs or so," he told her as they finally reached the last stair and he began walking towards their door. "Welcome home," he said opening the door to flat number 70.
He stepped over the threshold and walked into the lounge where Jawwaad waited for them. "Welcome home newlyweds!" he said and then kissed his brother's cheek before walking out and shutting the door behind him. The silence suddenly turned awkward between them. However, Waliya who had been adamantly against Aahil carrying her up the stairs, suddenly forgot all about being in his arms as they stood awkwardly gazing around the room. "It is done beautifully," she commented.
It was only then that Aahil remembered her in his arms. "It is basic. I've been living here for the last four years, so it is very simple. You can change it as you please," he said and then slowly bent down to put her on the ground.
She shook her head. "I like it." Looking at all her bags, she frowned and moved to pick up one of them to take to the room they would now be sharing.
"Leave them, I'll take them in," Aahil said before she could even touch them. They were finally husband and wife, after all those years of wanting her. She was his responsibility and he would see to it that she would do no heavy and strenuous work. It was his duty and responsibility to see that she was happy and not miserable, to see that she was not in any pain. In Shaa Allah, they will always be happy together.
"At least let me take one in," she said, but then yawned.
He chuckled. "Take your vanity bag in and tell me which one you need the most," he said bargaining. She pointed to one of the smaller cases and he nodded. "It's late. I am going to make two rakaat Nafl salaah and I would love if you join me. If you can," he said softly. "Of course after the both of us have a shower and change."
"Jee, okay," she said and looked at him uncertainly.
"Follow me," he said, realising that she didn't exactly know her way around their flat. As he walked, he spoke to her. "Tonight I'll shower in the guest bathroom, that way by the time you are done, we can make the Nafl salaah and go to bed." Once he mentioned the word 'bed' he heard her sharp intake of air, but he knew he would not let anything happen tonight. They were far too tired to even think of anything other than sleep. It suddenly dawned on him why she chose such an awkward time. She was one smart little girl after all.
"This is it. This is our master room," he said and tried to see things from her point of view. There was a four poster king bed, with black drapes that matched the black and silver bedding on the bed. Thick charcoal grey curtains hanging over thick wooden blinds, a black rug on either side of the bed. A wooden chest sat at the foot of the bed, with a small matching dressing table to the left of the bed where he had some of things splashed on and either side of the bed had matching bed side tables.
To him, it was home; but he was uncertain how she would see it. Was it too masculine? Maybe so. Maybe he should have lit some candles and threw rose petals on the floor? No. that was a waste and he knew he would have been unhappy with that. "I'm sorry," he found himself saying before he even realised what he was saying. "You can change the room if you don't like it."
She shook her head furiously. "No, I love it! I have always wanted a four poster bed, but my daddy said I couldn't have one because my room was too small! There's only one thing I will change," she said with excitement in her voice.
He let out a sigh of relief. One or two changes he could handle. More than that though, he was glad she approved of the room and of the flat she had seen so far. "What?"
"You have far too little pillows!" she laughed. "I love pillows!"
He found himself laughing along with her. "You can buy as much pillows as you like." He shook his head and sat down her bags against the light switch and then pointed out the en-suite bathroom to her before he moved to the cupboards to take out his clothes and go for a shower.
While he showered, he was slightly nervous. So far he was glad that Waliya liked her new home, but he worried what she would think of the rest of the place. It was something small. It was nothing flashy and extravagant like she was used to. Muslims were meant to live with the necessities, and he liked to abide by that. He knew she was used to elegance and opulence, and he could provide that, but he just didn't want to live that way. He disliked his parents' home too, to a degree, because they also lived with such pomp and he found it unnecessary. He truly preferred quality and necessity.
He had everything to make life simple, but it wasn't always the newest appliance. He had the toaster and kettle, mixing machine, washing machine, a dryer and a dishwasher for the nights when he had friends over. His kitchen was now filled with every new appliance Waliya could think of, courtesy of his friends and family. Not to mention all the gifts they had received for their wedding, mendhi and every other ceremony they had.
He didn't want Waliya to feel out of place in his sparsely decorated home, but he wasn't certain what to do with the overload of appliances and gifts. After long and hard contemplation, he decided that he would show it to her in the morning and have her decide what to do with it.
As he stepped out of the shower, the nervousness suddenly all rushed back to him along with the desire to finally gaze at his beautiful bride. He quickly read the dua for dressing as he changed into his clothes, tidied up the bathroom and then left to go to their master room to set out the Musallahs for them to read Salaah on. On one of Waliya's bags, he saw that she left out her Musallah and he understood her hidden meaning: she wanted to read on her Musallah. So neatly, he placed his and her Musallah down in the direction of Qiblah with his Musallah slightly ahead of hers. Once he threw on a kurtha over his pyjama pants and t-shirt, he heard Waliya exit the bathroom. The desire and longing to finally look at her was so strong, Aahil had to obey.
Waliya was running a hair brush through her long, dark hair and her head was slightly tilted as she combed her way through the knots. She was unaware of him watching her, and he relished in that fact. She looked absolutely beautiful. Even in her simple grey pyjama pants and matching short sleeve top with her mendhi reaching up to wear the sleeve ended, she was the most beautiful woman he had seen. The dark red, nearly maroon colour mendhi against her light brown skin was a spectacular sight. The pattern looked as if it was part of her skin and he was glad it went so high up. He loved mendhi on Waliya. Suddenly, no one ekse would ever look so beautiful with mendhi like his wife did. With that thought, he looked down at her feet. She had black slippers that matched her grey pyjama set and he saw the mendhi on her feet and smiled.
"How far up does the mendhi on your feet go?" he asked her, catching her unaware.
She jumped up a little and then smiled when she saw him. "Maaf, I was lost in my thoughts. Uh, the mendhi goes up to my calves," she said shyly.
His eyes widened in surprise. "That's amazing. Your mendhi looks beautiful," he complimented.
"Jazakallah," she said as she tied her hair up and then slipped on the simple black abaya on the bed she laid out. As soon as she tied her scarf, she turned to face Aahil and found him already at the Musallahs, waiting for her. She smiled broadly seeing her Musallah laid out behind his.
The minute she stood beside him, she felt a wave of peace envelop her and she smiled to herself. "This is just two rakaats shukr salaah for things going smoothly at our Nikkah and so that they may continue to go smoothly for the rest of our lives," he told her before holding his hands up to his ears and saying, "Allahu Akbar."
When the salaah was over, Waliya made dua that everything else goes smoothly in their lives and that they continue to spend their lives in peace and tranquillity and if bad times falls upon them, that they should be able to be strong enough to support one another. She made dua to be strong enough to be the pillar of strength that the other one needs. As they finished making their duas at the same time, they faced each other with smiles as they folded over a corner of the Musallah and walked to bed. "It's pointless to pack it away when we will be up in another two hours to make fajr," Aahil said.
She nodded and looked at the bed dreamily. "You can sleep on either side," he said to her. "I usually sleep by the window," he added.
"Okay, Jazakallah," she whispered and slid quietly into bed. As her eyes closer and Aahil slid into the covers, she couldn't help but feel like her dream of her wedding night came true. She had always dreamed that the very first thing that they should do as husband and wife, was to thank Allah for giving them one another.
P.S Wedding outfit to the side. Just imagine it with a silver scarf covering her hair and neck and long sleeves
Edit: since no pic could be found after a while and I lost the original that I had saved, I found the two most similar ones I could just to give an idea