On the eve of July 5th, the Farraj family’s courtyard had transformed into a vibrant hub of celebration. Tents adorned with plush cushions, and low-slung tables which boasted of exotic fruits, richly spiced dishes, and local drinks were artfully arranged.
Beneath each tent, invited guests had their henna applied, while some engaged in merry conversations and dances.
Rich Arabian music played in the background, adding to the mix of laughter that drifted around the environment.
The air carried the alluring scent of bakhour, and a blend of smoky incense with subtle spices that wrapped around the atmosphere in an intoxicating mix of sensuality.
Upstairs in his bedroom, Fou’ad Farraj leaned against the windowsill, a dopey grin on his face, as he tried to catch sight of his future bride.
“Fou’ad Muhammad Farraj!”
“Oh dear, someone’s in trouble,” Jawad snickered, as Hayat barged into the bedroom, seething with annoyance.
“What on earth would possess you to change the wedding decor? We have less than twenty-four hours till the nikkah. JJ was crying when she called me, I honestly have no idea what to do with you. Soyayya hauka ne?”¹
Half-listening to her scolding, Fou’ad’s attention remained locked on the largest tent where he knew Yaseerah was seated, his heart racing in anticipation, hoping each time the tent’s flap fluttered, it might reveal the enchanting sight he yearned for.
His silent prayer was answered when a sudden gust of wind teased the tent’s flap open just sufficiently for him to catch a fleeting glimpse of her–head slightly tilted as she listened to something one of the ladies with her was saying.
In a moment of pure joy, he turned to face his siblings, squealing like a teenager. “She is so beautiful!”
“You aren’t even listening to me,” Hayat huffed, before she took off her shoe and flung it at him, aiming for his head.
Fou’ad dodged the projectile, and the shoe sailed out the window, landing straight inside the tent, narrowly missing Yaseerah who sat closest to the tent’s opening by mere inches.
Heart racing, Fou’ad rushed towards the window, hoping the shoe hadn’t landed on anyone, most especially not his bride-to-be.
It took him a few seconds before he spotted the shoe due to the distance between his window on the third floor, and the tent in the courtyard below. And when he did, a sigh of relief escaped his lips because the shoe hadn’t hurt Yaseerah.
Leaning against the window for support, as he fought to regain his breathing back in control, Fou’ad released another sigh of relief, saying alhamdulillah for the missed target.
He had no idea what he would’ve done if the shoe meant to hurt him had hurt her instead, because he had dodged it.
“It missed her,” he said out loud, earning snickers from Jawad and Abbad who had elected to be silent during the whole scene.
Annoyed at missing her target, and the fact that Fou’ad was unrepentant about possibly ruining the wedding reception, Hayat stormed out of the room barefooted in a fit of annoyance, her husband trailing after her, attempting to calm her down.
“Look at him, smitten like a schoolboy,” Abbad teased, elbowing Jawad playfully. “Yaseerah has you wrapped around her finger. And to think, you still haven’t said a word to her.”
Fou’ad’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment, as he slid against the floor, avoiding his siblings’ gazes.
“You know you could just go downstairs and introduce yourself to her right?” Jawad suggested, to which Fou’ad shook his head adamantly. “Instead of lurking around and watching her from the shadows.”
“I’ll see her tomorrow,” Fou’ad replied dismissively, focusing on calming his racing heart.
Abbad and Jawad share a glance but do not comment on it further, choosing to change the subject into something else.
•—۵—•
“I’m sorry,” Hayat apologized to Yaseerah, as she bent down and picked up her shoe. “It was meant for Fou’ad.”
Yaseerah’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach at the mention of her fiancé. “Fou’ad is here?” she queried, before mentally berating herself for asking such a stupid question.
“Oh,” Hayat’s lips rounded with surprise, as she took in Yaseerah’s ashen expression. “My brother is an absolute idiot,” she muttered to herself, before she sat down on one of the cushions.
“He’s been in this daze since he laid eyes on you, and it’s only become worse since the wedding date was set. It’s like watching a teenager experiencing his first crush.”
Yet, he never found the time to actually talk to me.
Yaseerah managed a weak smile, unable to find the right words to say to Hayat.
“If only he spends more of his time ensuring that you don’t hate him instead of ensuring the wedding goes smoothly then...” Hayat huffed, picking up a glass of orange juice and draining it in one go.
“I don’t hate your brother,” Yaseerah responded, her tone blatantly placid.
“Maybe you should,” Hayat huffed again, as she picked up a samosa from one of the trays. “That will teach him a lesson.”
Though surprised by Hayat’s words, Yaseerah kept her lips shut, instead, choosing to study the henna on her hand which had begun to dry off.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean that. I don’t want you to hate him. After everything he’s done, you hating him will wreck him. And since he is my twin and all that, it will wreck me too. So, please don’t hate him,” Hayat’s tone turned pleading, and she looked like she was about to cry, so Yaseerah rushed to placate her, reassuring her that she didn’t hate her intended, even though the words tasted bitter on her tongue.
“Hey, Yaseerah,” Nadia called out, a mischievous grin dancing on her lips. “I know you didn’t invite your friend to the wedding, so I took the liberty of giving him one, you’re welcome.”
Yaseerah tensed imperceptibly, her heart racing, as she sought to find a way out of the mess Nadia was about to pull her into. Trying to maintain a façade of normalcy, she fixed her gaze on Nadia, subtly shaking her head.
“What friend?” Layla leaned in, eyes wide with open curiosity, as she glanced between Yaseerah and Nadia.
“Yaseerah doesn’t have other friends. Or does she?” Amira inquired with a frown, turning to Nadia for confirmation. “At least, we would have known about them, if she did.”
Nadia smirked, her gaze fixed on Yaseerah, who appeared still, her face devoid of all emotions. “Go on then, Yaseerah. Tell them about this friend of yours.”
A forced smile played on Yaseerah’s lips, masking the turmoil beneath as she tried to downplay the impact of Nadia’s words. “He isn’t someone important.”
“Really, Yaseerah? That’s how you want to play this? I’m sure he would be heartbroken if he heard you calling him unimportant,” Nadia mocked.
A tense silence lingered between the two, before Yaseerah’s gaze momentarily flickered toward the tent’s exit, contemplating a swift retreat from the unfolding drama. “I don’t have time for this,” she shook her head, as she rose to her feet.
“You can’t leave!” Hayat barked at Yaseerah, startling her back onto the cushion. “The henna on your feet isn’t dry yet, you don’t want to ruin it.”
Stay composed, Yaseerah repeated inwardly, as darkness blurred her vision.
“Is he someone that we know?” Zarah asked Nadia, brows furrowed, as if she could discern the answer if she concentrated hard enough.
“I doubt it,” Nadia shrugged, gaze turning contemplative, as she pulled out a card from her bag. “His name is Fulan, I don’t think he runs in the same circle as we do.”
Yaseerah’s breath caught in her throat as Nadia casually dropped Fulan’s name into the conversation, outing her most guarded secret in front of everyone.
“Fulan?” Hayat directed at Yaseerah, her gaze contemplative. “Interesting.”
Hayat’s words hit Yaseerah like a sudden surge of adrenaline, her heart pounding in her chest, as her eyes darted between Nadia and the others, gauging their reactions.
“Anyway, I ran into him at that tea shop we met the other day, and thankfully, I had extra invites in my purse.”
Each word from Nadia seemed to echo in Yaseerah’s ears, intensifying the rapid beats of her heart.
He knows! The words echoed in her head, until they were all she could think of. Fulan knows!
Her hand trembled as she reached for a bottle of water, her attempt to appear nonchalant crumbling under the weight of Nadia’s revelation.
Does he hate me? How much does he know?
“Layla do you remember that cartoon Yaseerah loves so much?” Nadia’s lips curved into a knowing smile, as she turned towards Layla, who still looked confused.
“Tangled?” Layla pursed her lips. “What about it?”
“Think of Fulan as Flynn Ryder, and our dear Yaseerah as Rapunzel. Except he didn’t just come to steal the crown, he is trying to steal her from Fou’ad. Or maybe, he has already stolen your heart?” She directed the last question at Yaseerah, her eyes dancing with mirth.
“Oh, wow Yaseerah,” Amira’s lips curved into a teasing smile. “I didn’t think you had it in you. Way to go girl!”
Zarah looked between Yaseerah and Hayat before settling her gaze on Nadia. “That’s enough, Nads. This is a celebration, don’t ruin it, please.”
Nadia pouted at Zarah’s chiding, before turning her gaze back to Yaseerah, smiling innocently. “Just making things more lively. You don’t mind, right?”
When Yaseerah didn’t respond, Nadia continued, delighting at finally putting Yaseerah in her place. “He even sent me a gift, could you believe that? He really is charming,” she swooned dramatically, as she pulled out a card from her bag. “No wonder you fell for him.”
“What gift?” Layla asked, at the same time Amira asked. “Why would he gift you something?”
“Thank you for the invite, and for being such a good friend to my Yaseerah, you have been truly informative,” Nadia read the note on the card, before she returned it back into her purse. “It was an odd gift, because who would give someone a hundred pounds of cheese as a gift? But I appreciate it nonetheless.”
“He gave you cheese?” Hayat snickered, earning a confused glance from all of the ladies.
Amina who had been quite through the whole debacle chose that moment to intervene. “He gave it to you because he thinks you are a rat.”
“Fitting,” Hayat intoned, her lips thinning with disapproval as the rest of the ladies laughed at Nadia’s expense.
Like a fish out of water, Nadia’s lips flapped open, her cheeks turning beet red as she turned her gaze on Amina. “What did you just call me?”
“You should all be ashamed of yourselves for calling Yaseerah your friend,” Hayat spoke, glancing at the four, before her gaze settled on Nadia. “You especially. Congratulations, you just got yourself uninvited to the wedding.”
“What?” Nadia spluttered, glancing at her other friends for help. “You can’t do that. I’m one of the bridesmaids, Yaseerah is my friend.”
“You should be deeply ashamed of yourself for saying that. No true friend would ever do what you just did,” Hayat hissed, as she rose to her feet. “Now, you are excused from this house. And Nadia, don’t you dare think of showing up at the reception tomorrow. Because if you do, I will ruin every bit of reputation that you have.”
Without another word, Hayat sent Yaseerah an apologetic smile, before she left the tent, answering her phone which had begun to ring at that moment.
“I don’t think it would have been fun anyway,” Nadia huffed, as she picked up her purse, hands trembling slightly. “Aren’t you guys coming?” She directed at the trio who remained seated.
“No, we are staying,” Zarah shrugged.
“See you later?” Amira smiled at Nadia, who returned her smile with a glare, before she left the tent.
“Yaseerah, we are...” Layla began but Amina interrupted her when she raised a hand.
“I think you all should leave too.”
“But...”
“Come on girls,” Zarah rose to her feet too, interrupting Layla who had begun to protest. “It’s a big day tomorrow, and Yaseerah needs her rest. Besides, I think the mood has been ruined already.”
Layla looked ready to argue, but one look from Zarah shut her off, and she dragged Amira out with her.
“I know an apology won’t be enough,” Zarah sighed, squeezing Yaseerah’s shoulder gently. “But, I am truly sorry. We never should have indulged in Nadia’s games.”
Yaseerah nodded, her eyes which were always guarded betraying a storm of fear and vulnerability Zarah had never seen before, and it made her feel all the more guilty for not stopping Nadia sooner. Hayat was right, they ought to be ashamed of themselves.
Taking a deep breath to dispel the storm raging within her, Yaseerah remained seated, needing a silent moment to herself; a brief respite from everything.
“Yaseerah, are you okay?” Amina’s voice held genuine concern, as she approached her cousin.
“I don’t know,” Yaseerah admitted after a while, seemingly dazed. “I never expected... this. But, I should have known Nadia would make a spectacle out of it.”
“Is what she said true?” Amina asked tentatively.
Yaseerah wanted to deny it, to call Nadia a liar but what was the point in it?
“Yes.”
“Do you love him?”
“I can’t...”
“Do you love him?” Amina repeated, her tone a bit forceful, as she cut Yaseerah off.
Emotions made a large lump appear within the columns of her throat and when she met Amina’s gaze, everything she sort to hide was out in the open.
Yaseerah’s voice wavered as she answered Amina with a question of her own. “What does it say about me, if I admit that I do?”
“It makes you human,” Amina responded, her heart tugging painfully due to the anguish she heard in her cousin’s voice. “It means that you are not the ice queen your father wanted you to be.”
At the sound of her childhood nickname, Yaseerah burst out into a fit of laughter, alongside Amina.
“What do I do, Meee?” Yaseerah queried, when they both sobered up. “Fou’ad...”
“He could either be the best or the worst thing to happen to you,” Amina stated compassionately, when Yaseerah trailed off. “You have to ask yourself if you are willing to find out which of the two he could be.”
Yaseerah and Amina sat there in contemplative silence, as they waited for her henna to finish drying off. When they were joined by Hayat later, the trio engaged in conversation, the drama earlier easily forgotten, as Yaseerah listened to Amina and Hayat bond, only chiming in occasionally.
Hours later when she found herself back at home and in her bedroom, Yaseerah stared at herself in the mirror intently, before she picked up a nail cutter and clipped off her long nails.
With Amina’s words echoing in her mind, and the emptiness she felt now that she no longer had her coping mechanism, Yaseerah made a swift decision, typing a quick message to Abbad, before she settled her phone face down on the vanity, and left her bedroom.
I’m sorry, I can’t marry your brother.
•••
Now, who is ready for a wedding? 🤭
Any guesses as to the drama that would unfold? 🌚
See you Wednesday 😌
Xoxo, Jidderh ❤️