The first time Abbad Farraj had gone to Bako Manor to meet Yaseerah, he had made Fou'ad Farraj part with his precious Audi A8, not because he wanted it, but because he thought he would detest the whole meetup and required it as compensation.
He thought he was going there to meet an unruly teenager but he had been pleasantly surprised to realize that wasn't the case with his sister-in-law.
Yaseerah had defied every stereotype he had harbored about teenagers. She was delicate and beautiful, polite, kind, soft-spoken and everything sixteen year olds weren't.
More often than not, Abbad found himself observing her, whenever they were within the same vicinity, not because of some romantic inclinations but because he wanted to see the real her.
She was like a crystal figurine in a crystal palace.
Delicate.
Admirable.
Untouchable.
It unnerved him, because nothing about her spoke of her being a teenager.
The way she dressed, the way she walked, the way she talked, everything about her rubbed him the wrong way.
The thought of what she had endured, still endured at the hands of her father always made him question whether or not he had made a mistake by supporting the decision to wait for her eighteenth birthday before the Nikkah took place.
Two years later, Abbad could say that he still didn't know the real her. One thing remained constant though, her politeness, her love and loyalty to her milk-family, which he was sure she wasn't faking.
Tuning back into the conversation before him, Abbad couldn't help but snicker as he watched his youngest brother go through the boxes filled with Yaseerah's kayan lefe that were scattered around the spacious living area with the precision of a drill sergeant, ticking segments in his clipboard, muttering to himself.
“I think we've got everything,” Anna–Hayat's personal shopper–remarked, her tone weary, as she closed one of the boxes.
“Are you sure? You don't think we should add anything else? Are five sets of boxes enough?”
“I think they are more than enough,” Anna forced a smile onto her face, masking her annoyance and fatigue. They've been at this for hours on end, and though the pay was more than justified, Anna couldn't wait for the day when these boxes will be locked and driven to the bride's house. “Yaseerah will be thrilled with these choices.”
Fou'ad hummed under his breath, but he continued to peruse his clipboard, wanting to ensure that everything was in abundance.
He had been obsessing over every detail, using the wedding preparations as a distraction from the real issue at hand–his inability to communicate with Yaseerah, which he thought was absolutely pathetic.
“What do you think Abbad?” Fou'ad questioned, turning his gaze back onto his brother.
“It's not enough right?” he asked again, not waiting for Abbad's reply. “I knew it. Anna can you get me another set of boxes with...”
“Nothing,” Hayat Farraj interrupted, cutting him off. “Thank you for your help Anna,” she turned towards the woman, offering her an apologetic smile. “My driver's waiting outside to take you back to the store.”
Anna hesitated, torn between the pay she would be getting and relief at being allowed to leave early, but Hayat's insistence left no room for negotiation.
“But...”
“No buts groomzilla,” Hayat cut him off again. “You look like you're ready to dress an entire village for a year.”
“More like a city,” Abbad snickered, earning a glower from Fou'ad. “I've seen fewer clothes in high-end boutiques.”
Fouad sighed dramatically, holding up his clipboard as if it were a shield. “Very funny, you two. I just want everything to be perfect for her.”
From her vantage point, Hayat observed him closely, concern for his wellbeing overshadowing the laughter that still threatened to bubble out of her.
She had always been the one to decipher his unspoken thoughts, the only one who knew the depths of his feelings for Yaseerah, and yet, even though she still disapproved of his choice to go silent on his fiancée, she respected his decision, knowing that he needed to find the courage within himself to bridge the gap he had unintentionally created between them.
“I have no doubt it'll be,” Hayat uttered, her brows furrowing into a brow as she allowed her gaze to once again sweep over the boxes of clothes. “Now, do you want to tell me what all this is about?”
“I just want everything to be perfect for her,” he repeated.
Hayat sighed, knowing that she won't be able to get any answers out of him right now, so, she steered him towards the kitchenette where Jawad was busy making apple juice.
“You know, when I first met Yaseerah, I couldn't believe how well-mannered and composed she was for her age,” Hayat began, hoping the conversation will shift the nervousness Fou'ad was feeling.
“I thought you said she was prissy?” Abbad intoned, arching his eyebrow.
“I still think she is,” Hayat replied breezily, picking up an apple and biting into it. “Have you ever met a teenager who dresses the way she does? She's always in lafayas, and always looks like she's stepping off a movie set.”
“You're gossiping,” Fou'ad frowned at his twin, a distant look in his eyes.
“I'm just stating facts. Anyway, her politeness more than makes up for her prissiness.”
Jawad, who had been quietly sipping his drink, finally spoke up, his tone measured as always. “Well, that's all fine and good, but you can't judge a person solely on their first impressions. We don't know how she'll handle the challenges of married life.”
“That's true,” Hayat nodded. “But, I think she'll be fine.”
“Marriage is a partnership, and it's not always about how charming or polite someone is at first. It's about compatibility, understanding, and working together to face whatever comes your way,” Jawad added.
“But what if I don't find that compatibility? What if she and I have nothing in common?” Fou'ad queried, voicing out some of his inner thoughts and concerns.
“Well, you have yourself to blame for that,” Abbad known for his blunt honesty stated, making Fou'ad frown. “You shouldn't have waited this long to speak with her.”
Hayat shot Abbad a glower before she returned her gaze back onto Fou'ad. “Sometimes compatibility isn't immediate. It's something that can develop over time as you get to know each other better.”
“And remember, we're here to support you. We've got your back no matter what,” Abbad added, clapping Fou'ad on the shoulder, before he walked out of the living room.
Hayat nodded in agreement. “You'll always have our support, and we will be by your side every step of the way.”
Jawad, ever the voice of reason, concluded, “Ultimately, it's up to both of you to make the best of this situation. Marriage isn't just about finding common ground; it's about creating it together.”
Fou'ad contemplated their words, feeling a mixture of apprehension and hope.
“Our Nikkah is on her birthday, what do you think I should get her as a gift?”
“A divorce?” Jawad suggested unapologetically, his face as always not betraying his emotions.
“What is wrong with you people?” Fou'ad glowered, resting his head on the Island.
“Jawad is just joking,” Hayat pacified, rubbing Fou'ad's shoulders as she shot her elder brother a glower. “Aren't you?”
Jawad responded with a nonchalant shrug, as he casually reached for his drink, the ice cubes clinking softly against the glass. His gaze swept over the meticulously arranged boxes in the center of the room as he silently exited the room, with a subtle shake of his head.
“What are you really worried about?” Hayat asked once again, hoping that he'll give her a straight answer now that they were alone.
Fouad paused for a while to think about what Hayat had said, to analyze the real reason why he was worried about things going wrong, and why he'd kept his distance from his fiancée, after he had accepted the marriage proposal from his father.
Truth be told, he hadn't stopped for once to think about that, neither had he allowed himself the chance to think about it either.
But now, as he asked himself the million dollar question, he realized that he had in fact gotten cold feet, which was embarrassing to even think of.
“I just wanted to give her space,” he replied instead, not yet ready to voice out the fact that he had gotten scared and ran away like a coward.
But, it was also true that he had left to give his fiancée space, which thinking about it now, was not the brightest of ideas he had ever had.
“Do you think she hates me?” he asked quietly.
The question hung in the air between them, heavy with uncertainty.
Hayat studied her brother's anxious expression, her concern deepening as she thought of what to say.
Being twins, they were each other's confidante, turning to each other with their most intimate concerns.
She knew that his relationship with Yaseerah was complex, shaped by the months of silence he had insisted on keeping between them.
She longed to alleviate his concerns, and ease the tension and anxiousness he was feeling but she also knew that in this moment, she couldn't do that, not fully at least.
“I don't think she's someone who holds grudges or has the capabilities of hating people. But if you're concerned about her potential reaction, I think it's best that you talk to her openly and honestly,” she responded thoughtfully.
“I think I messed up,” he moaned pitifully, and though Hayat was concerned about him, she couldn't help but be amused by his antics.
“You know you can't avoid talking to her forever. You're getting married in less than three weeks.”
Fou'ad fought to keep his composure, even though his heart raced upon hearing Hayat's words. How could he tell her that his nervousness wasn't totally about talking to Yaseerah but something else entirely?
He had truly messed up, and he wondered how he was going to fix his mess before the wedding?
“I know, Hayat,” he sighed, his shoulders slumping forward. “Every time I think about meeting her, I just... I don't know what to say. She makes me so nervous.”
“Love makes a fool of us,” she intoned gently, as she placed a comforting hand on his arm. “She is a part of our family now, and she deserves to know the real you. She's not some distant acquaintance, but your fiancée. You can't let your nerves get in the way of building a life together.”
“What if...”
“No more what ifs,” she cut him off, as she slid off the stool. “And as for her birthday gift, how about something that shows her how much you appreciate her? It doesn't have to be extravagant, just something heartfelt will do.”
Fou'ad considered her suggestion, the gears in his mind turning as he contemplated the perfect gift.
“It wasn't my intention to make her feel abandoned,” he uttered softly, regret evident his tone, making Hayat stop in her tracks.
“But you did. Now, you have to fix it, before the wedding. And for the truth of her feelings, you will have to ask Abbad about that.”
“Why?” he queried, his brows furrowing together in confusion.
“Oh, you didn't know?” She feigned a gasp, her eyes sparkling with mirth and mischief. “Ask her about it when you meet her.”
“Hayat, what are you talking about?”
Hayat wiggled her eyebrows at him, before she walked out of the living room, leaving him behind to ponder her words.
***
Poor Fou'ad doesn't know someone's sniffing around his fiancée 😂🤭
Xoxo, Jidderh 😘.