"I hadn't told them about you, but they saw you bathing in my eyes. I hadn't told them about you, but they saw you in my written words. The perfume of love cannot be concealed." ~ Nizar Qabbani
~|✵|~
Oxford University Dorm Room
Monday, 25th April 1988
I had spent more time with Zayan in the past month than I would have ever imagined. We talked between classes, during lunch, and afterwards long into the night. Most nights we would spend studying over the phone, but all I needed was an excuse to spend time with him. He had become more open, and every time I found him letting me in, I could not help but fall deeper.
But where was it that I was falling? Is there any end to this?
It is no secret that he is irresistibly handsome and irrevocably intelligent, and that I am happier when I am with him. I know that Salma and Hajar believe I give him more time than them, but it is not like that at all. Yes, I love spending time with him, but I value them more... or maybe just as much? I don't know! Their friendship means the world to me, and I cannot imagine a life where they did not exist.
But I cannot ignore the emptiness I feel when I do not see Zayan for a long time.
They think that I have fallen in love with him, but what is love? Is love the weakness I feel in my limbs when he stands or sits within close proximity of me? Is love the butterflies that take flight in my stomach when he gives me his priceless smile?
We all went to dinner the other night, and he easily sat next to me while Hajar and Salma sat across from us. And my oh my, I felt like I would combust into a thousand and one particles.
I sometimes find him watching me in class from afar, but I am afraid if I look up, he will not look again. Oh my heart, how do I know whether or not he has feelings for me? Is it too early?
I spoke to Amma last night, and she said that I sounded different. When I asked her what that meant, she told me that it was nothing bad; it just sounded like I was enjoying life. Zaakir Bhai had yelled from the back that I was 'high on life'.
Maybe that's what it is, maybe I am high on life?
~|✵|~
Firdaus's fingers brushed along the fading ink of her mother's manual cursive as she read the last sentence in the journal entry. It was so intricate, dancing like a seductress on the thin paper yet sharp on its ends.
Did her mother ever imagine that that night was the portal to destruction? Her mother had been so in love, so mesmerized with Zayan, that she simply lost all touch to the rest of the world.
Firdaus exhaled a deep breath before gently closing the leather bound journal. There was a single piece of frayed twill that wrapped around the book, not letting the demons of the heart enter it any further than it already had. The pages had started to wether and yellow at the edges as the paper had become thin and fragile. However, its musky aroma was still intact, and it gave Firdaus a sense of belonging.
She was sitting on the length of her bedroom windowsill, her knees pulled up to her chest as her dupatta swayed from her chest and down to the floor. As she looked towards the rising sun, her heart sank. In just a few hours she would be bound in marriage to a man that had come in as a storm and swept everyone away before they could have blinked twice.
This man had caused heart ache and pure love and devotion from those who barely knew him. He was an enigma that dared to be defied, and her whole being felt as if it was burning. She had promised herself to not let her conscience slip. Life was a battle that she had been a player in since she the first slap from her father. Nothing compared to what she had been through, what she had endured in her first decade and a half of life.
She had experienced love, loss, birth, and death. She had loved her mother immensely who she had lost unfortunately. She had been there for the miracle birth of her sister that was near of being a failed pregnancy once more. And she had watched death of not just one, but two people in front of her eyes.
Her eyes shut as she heard the gunshots in her head. Still shaken by the grotesque memory of her parents death, silent tears fell from the corners of her eyes and painted a solemn path down her sharp cheeks.
In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Repeat.
She inhaled and exhaled to keep the memories from resurfacing. Over the years she had mastered the PTSD, and it had taken all her will to not let those blood-curling screams, shouts, and cries for help get to her where she was the most vulnerable-
Her heart.
When she heard Faryal's sleepy whimpering coming from their bedroom, Firdaus's eyes shot open and she hastily wiped her tears away. It was as if she had been shaken awake from a bad nightmare. The only difference was that this did not end just by a shake or an opening of the eyes. This nightmare was a permanent stain that cruelly watched and laughed as one suffered.
Removing the clip that held the amalgamation of her hair, Firdaus dropped her feet from the windowsill to the floor. She gathered the silky tendrils in her palms while holding the clip between her lips and put it up into a messy bun.
"Faryal, wake up. It's half past six," she made her way into the bedroom and temporarily left behind the previous memories that had leered its way into her mind.
Those memories were made up of the most chronic disease someone could bear. Only time would tell if she would be able to leave them behind once and for all, or would they create nothing but mad chaos?
~|✵|~
"Faryal, did the driver put all the party favors in the car? And what about the extra dates, and dry fruit? We need to make sure everyone gets a favor with the sweets so that they can have something when the Nikkah is over and before lunch is served," Tabinda hurriedly asked as Dariyah, Sulva, and her headed towards the car with large platters of rose petals.
"Yes, they should be in the car!" Faryal responded from behind.
The whole house looked like a domino puzzle in all shades of white. Everyone had dressed in their best white/ivory attire, setting the theme for the Nikkah. Dozens of people were bustling around the large expanse of the house to finish the last minute preparations before they headed for the ceremony.
The Rukhsati was scheduled after lunch was over, and it was Faryal's responsibility to make sure that all of Firdaus's needs and belongings were packed and ready to go to the Malik's house. She had a thousand and one different things on her mind, and it did not help that everyone was asking her for direction when the elders were nowhere to be found.
"Basma ki bachchi! Yaar, kasam se agar tujh se ek bhi kaam hota na toh main apna naam badal dey ti (Seriously, if you could just do one thing properly, then I would change my name)!" She was furious and Basma's smug smile did not help her temper either.
Faryal itched her temple with the length of her freshly manicured nails and took a deep breath before she exhaled. She closed her eyes and counted backwards from 10 to zero. I am not going to let this girl spoil my mood! Nope, not today!
When she slowly opened her eyes, Basma was watching her as if she had grown three heads. "Aab khare khare mera moun kya dekh rahi hai (Now, why are you standing there and watching me like that)? Dafa ho ja yahan se (Get lost)!"
And just like that her patience slipped. Uggghhh! She watched with hawk-like eyes as Basma nodded and scurried away. Faryal mumbled unintelligibly under her breath and headed towards the main doors of the house. They had to leave within the next half an hour, and Zubaida was still getting ready.
At the thought of Zubaida, Faryal rolled her eyes. She prayed and hoped that everything go smoothly today. Nobody had mentioned the incident from last night since the sun had risen, but she could feel the tension between Nani Maa, Bare Mamu, and Bari Mami. It was not a complicated Quantum Physics problem that could not be solved, and it was nothing short of stupidity.
Before Faryal could step out into the beautiful sun that promised good weather for the rest of the day, a thundering cloud swarmed over and pulled her to the side. A single gasp flitted through her glossed lips, but her eyes rounded when they came into contact with the heavenly dark ones that begged her to stay silent.
And just like that, they disappeared before anyone could see them.
"Sikander, where are you taking me?" she loudly whispered to him as he gently tugged on her arm and stopped just below the staircase that went up to the guest rooms. "What the-"
Before she could say something else, he placed a finger on her lips. "Shhh! Can you just keep your mouth shut for a single second?" His furrowed eyebrows scolded her, but the twitch on his lips were not missed.
Their eyes were stuck in a mesmerizing and crackling trance before Faryal came to her senses and looked over her surroundings. She made her way to the railing of the staircase that was weaved with peonies, baby breaths, and roses. Her back faced Sikander, and he could not help but be curious as to what the sudden shyness was all about. Faryal was anything but shy, but the tremble in her fingers as she picked at the chiffon pink rose said otherwise.
"Someone seems indifferent today. Looks like the change in air has brought a new shade that I have not been familiarized with?" His deep voice sent a sharp tingle down Faryal's buzzing spine. Every nerve ending stood tall as he seemed closer than one could imagine. She could feel his hot breath on the curve of her crimson shoulder, and she was afraid to turn around.
What if he was too close? Close enough to... her stained lips dried at the thought.
With a shy chuckle under his breath he stepped away, and she easily felt cold. No, come back!
"You look breathtaking, Fari," he claimed. She quickly turned around to offer a mischievous smile, and her shyness slipped without a second thought.
She was dressed in a pure white suit that easily accentuated the bangles she wore on her slender wrist. It had brought a dangerous smile on Sikander's entire face when he had pulled her towards the staircase. Her kameez was simple yet elegant with silver embroidery down the neckline and long sleeves. Small white pearls eclipsed the edge of the sleeves and kameez, eliciting a thrill in her sharara pants. Her net dupatta was heavy with embroidery, more pearls warmed all four borders. Her hair was braided in a soft and loose fishtail down the middle of her back, a few strands teasing her heart-shaped face. Single jasmine flowers ran down the length of her braid, and with each flip of her hair, the fresh aroma sprayed into the air like a lost lover's kiss.
Her lips... her lips were full and plump with a soft pink, and her makeup had been done flawlessly. She was the epitome of innocent beauty, and his heart begged to love every bit of it slowly and gently.
Her lips curved upwards as she winked at him. "You do not look so bad yourself," she said firmly, and he knew she meant it.
Her eyes had easily appreciated the freshly pressed white kurta and shalwar he wore. All the men were to dress similarly, and Firdaus had made sure that Sikander was included in the brigade. The sleeves of his pristine white kurta were rolled up to his bulging forearms, the folds of cloth easily resting there. The white kurta was weaved with white thread work, and he looked nothing short of perfection. She had a hard time keeping her eyes averted from where the top two buttons of the kurta were undone, but she controlled herself nonetheless.
Sikander shook his head at her compliment as a smile left his lips. He looked down and scratched the back of his neck, a soft blush ascending from his neck and to his cheeks. He never knew what to do when Faryal gave him compliments so easily. He would never get used to it.
"Anyway, my offer still stands," his voice had lost all humor as he looked up and into her eyes that had turned round with question.
"And what would that offer be?" she tried to play coy as she crossed her arms on her chest. The heavily embroidered sleeves of her kameez brushing against her suddenly cold skin. She could feel the goosebumps rising on her arms.
Their eyes did not move away from each other's even as Sikander took steps towards where she stood only a few feet from him. He did not stop until he was a single hairsbreadth away. He tilted his head to the side and ran a finger across the white glass bangles on her wrist.
Faryal's heart thumped in her chest and ears. Her knees were growing weak by the second. Her face was in flames, and she felt like she could sweat from every crevice in her body even though she felt cold to the touch.
Sikander's lips teased her endlessly as his finger moved from her bangles and to her cool skin. "Marry me," he whispered with pure conviction. His eyes did not lie as he watched her every move diligently.
Faryal's whole world had come to a standstill and whir-pooled at the same time. He could not be serious. This was not the first time that Sikander talked about their marriage, but this declaration held something different then all those other times. He sounded nothing short of confident.
Faryal's breaths fastened as it felt like time had stopped. She took a step back, not being able to think when he was so close her. She placed a shaky palm on his chest as if to keep him at arms length while she stood there baffled.
"Sikander!" her voice was quiet, but loud enough to sound like a whispered scold.
"Faryal," he answered with the same force.
They watched each other for the next few minutes, and she did not know what to say or what to feel. A hundred emotions had swarmed her in the same moment, and she shook her head at him.
The hand she had placed on his chest quivered, and Sikander enclosed his warm fist around her wrist. An indirect promise to never let her go.
"I love you, you know that," he nodded and slowly came closer. "I will never stop loving you." He was another beat closer. "I was never joking when I told you I was going to marry you one day." And another. "All this time I was unsure that you and your family would accept me, but now... now I am sure." And another beat closer. "All you need to do is say yes. I'm not going to pressure you, but know that the offer still stands," And he was back to where his place always was- a single heartbeat away from Faryal.
"What changed? What made you so sure?" For the first time, her voice trembled a little. Her lashes quivered, creating shadows on her rosy cheeks.
"Just know that I have someone on my side who agrees and gave me the confidence," Sikander replied with a knowing smile.
Faryal's flat palm turned into a fist on Sikander's chest, and she could feel the loud thumping of his heart. It was ironic since his face was masked with no ounce of nervousness, but his heart told another tale.
"FARYAL! Where are you? We are going to be late!" Idris yelled from the distance.
Faryal suddenly laughed out at the remark. How were they possibly going to be late for their own sister's wedding when they were the ones taking her?
She shook her head and looked up and into Sikander's smoldering eyes. She gave him her cheeky smile and pulled her hand away from his grasp as he got lost in her eyes. "I might just take you up on that offer," she whispered to him and ran towards the hall that connected the staircase to the living room.
"Really?" he called after her, his eyebrows furrowed with amazement at the mere thought of Faryal becoming his wife.
His heart was on fire.
She turned around before she could reach the living room and walked backwards. "Maybe!" she said and winked.
Her heart was already burning in flames.
~|✵|~
The grass had been freshly mowed, and the sun eclipsed in the large cumulus clouds gave enough sunlight to the outdoor plantation. It was a beautiful breezy day, and the willow trees around the outskirts swayed gently with the rhythmic air, providing an intimate shelter as it witnessed the union of two believers. Seating arrangements had been done just a few feet away from the raised white stage in the middle of the greenland. The idea of an outdoor Nikkah was different, but both the Qadeers and Maliks were famous for their uniqueness. Steps were created with slabs of white marble on both sides of the stage where the Nikkah was to take place. Larger than life flower arrangements were placed strategically on either side of the steps that had created the walkway.
Roses, carnations, hydrangeas, buttercups, angelonias, freesias, peonies, and tulips made surreal bouquets that were placed on white wired vases. Fragile hints of pink, peach, and emerald green accented the white canopy. They were similar to the bouquet that Firdaus held, which sat as a beautiful compliment and a shy nod to the wedding. Around the bottom of every flower arrangement were more flowers that created the base and brought in the aroma of love, togetherness, and the blessings of Allah.
The center stage had been split in two sections by an intricately embroidered expanse of net and lace fabric. Small flowers were weaved through, but the net material allowed sight of the opposite side, though it was slightly hazy from the threads in the fabric. The bride was to sit on one side with her family, close relatives, and friends while the groom would take the other side with his fair share of loved ones. The guests were to get quite a sight as they sat in a circular amphitheater setting around the center stage. Above the stage was a canopy filled with white gossamer and strings of flowers that fell from the top and hung abstractly low. It was a perfect covering and added grace to the wedding ceremony.
The groom and his family were to make an entrance first, and Rabia could not help but admire how the vision for her son's wedding had come together. Even the weather had been on their side Alhamdullilah, and the arrangements inside the grand hotel's banquet hall for the lunch had been done just as precisely.
"I am so happy with the way this all came together, Ma Sha Allah!" Rabia grinned as they headed towards the resort grounds.
"Mama, this is not the first time Ridwan is getting married. His first wedding was just as grand and was decorated just as beautifully," Haseena rolled her eyes and continued to walk with her mother. She walked powerfully despite the stilettos that dug into the grass.
Rabia's smile quickly turned into a shocked grimace as her eyes darted bullets at her eldest. "Stop bringing up his first marriage, Haseena. Must you always bring back the bad memories?"
"Not talking about it does not mean it did not happen," Haseena stopped and looked at her mother with the same ferociousness.
"You are right, but not acknowledging it will not hurt anyone either," Rabia huffed. She tucked her loose curl behind her ear and tugged on her white chiffon dupatta.
"Must you ladies always fight on special occasions," Qasim said from behind and made space between mother and daughter. He put his arms around both of their shoulders, and the three continued to walk towards the steps that led to the space of union.
"Your daughter started it," Rabia looked away in annoyance but made it a point to smile at the guests that were watching them from their seats in the circular setting.
"You are the one that does not like it when I speak the truth," and there Haseena went twisting Rabia's words... again.
"Both of you need to stop right this minute. Camera to the right, look, smile, continue walking! Now that's like my lovely ladies," Qasim quickly hushed them.
~|✵|~
"Smile meri jaan, it won't hurt you to do so. I promise!" Delkash gently touched the small of her brother's back as she whispered last minute words of support to him.
Despite the nerves running through his mind and body, Ridwan smiled at his sister as she straightened his sherwani. An ivory overcoat with zardozi work on the sleeves sat just above a pristine white kurta that he wore below. The mixed satin material of the shalwar and kurta were perfect for the breezy weather while they looked crisp and elegant.
Delkash fondly patted his cheek at his half-hearted smile. She continued to fix the napkin in his sherwani pocket while Zakariya straightened his collar.
"Looking dapper!" Delkash grinned as she finished her last minute fidgeting. She took her spot with her husband behind Ridwan and their parents as they stood on their side of the stage and waited for the bride and her family to make an appearance.
He shifted his weight from one foot to another before letting out a sigh and straightening his position. His hands folded themselves in front of him as he looked up and squared his broad and muscular shoulders. Sensing his nerves, Qasim placed a firm hand on his shoulder as a sign of reassurance. Qasim gave him a single nod of encouragement before joining the conversation with Rabia who stood on the other side of Ridwan. There were multiple conversations taking place at the same time. The whispers and jovial laughter from behind made him take a deep sigh while the judging eyes of the guests all around them made his stomach coil.
His impeccable hearing blocked out the conversations that meant nothing to him as he stood waiting.... waiting for his bride.
"I cannot believe that he is getting married again! I doubt that his daughter will accept this young girl as her mother. Unbelievable."
"It's as if marriage has become a joke to the younger generation. They marry whenever they want. Then they divorce whenever they want. A shame this will be if it ends in shambles like the one before, but I would not be surprised."
"I think the girl is marrying him because of his money. Why else would a beautiful young girl with such a bright future marry a man that has been divorced and has a child?"
"Why would she marry him for money? She is Mehnaz Qadeer's eldest grandchild! She is more secure with her maiden name than this man who left his first wife. I say she should run while she can, before her future is made into Hell like Nusrat's was!"
His hands clenched at the conversations that flitted with the sound waves. They were not even conversations. They were rumors that had followed him consistently for the past five years.
His sharp jawline ticked at the things that people had been saying. He had paid them no heed, but it sounded like they needed to be put in their place. He could care less about what was being said about him. He was used to the false accusations that people murmured under their breaths but were too afraid to say to his face. But what angered him was when it included her and questioned her dignity.
Firdaus.
She deserved respect, and these people that knew nothing about them had no right to judge or label them with their faulty accusations. His thoughts halted as Benazir clasped her hand around her brother's. His stiffened muscles relaxed under her soft touch, his head turning to her side.
"Bhai! She's here," her voice was a whisper that dissolved into the air like cool vapor. His daughter who patiently stood next to her Bee Phups let out a soft "wow" and looked up at her father with a wide grin. All his anger diminished as she gave him a thumbs up, and he looked ahead of him.
As he looked through the embroidered net veil that separated the two of them, he could see her walking on the plush grounds. She was surrounded by those who loved her, and her posture was erect and strong.
And suddenly, time slowed down.
His eyes watched her every move, not missing the slight tilt in her head as her sister whispered something in her ear nor the smallest of smiles grazing her painted lips that followed soon after. The flutter of her blushing and ever so long lashes had created shadows of secrets on her high cheekbones while her neck turned a gentle shade of pink.
"Ma sha Allah," he heard Rabia say from beside him. All the mindless conversations behind him on the stage and through the guests froze in midair as they turned their heads and body to watch the bride ascend the marble steps to the center stage.
She was clad in a pure white lehenga that wove its own garden from her waist and down to the soles of her feet. Her blouse was intricately stitched into a sweetheart neckline with rustic embroidered flowers. The lavish sleeves stopped at the hilts of her wrist and where the diamond and ruby bangles began. Rose pink and peach flowers cascaded down the skirt of her lehenga, the colors matching the natural blush on her cheekbones. The heavy zari dupatta laid remotely on her left shoulder, falling down like a river and caught around her right wrist. Another white net dupatta sat on her intricately done hair, falling into a veil down her face. A matching diamond and rub set lay around the neck, kissing her collarbones as matching earrings and rings donned her ears and fingers. Everything about her look was simple yet elegant, soft yet sophisticated, just the way he liked.
His mother's design for her bridal lehenga had done wonders, and it was exactly how he had imagined it when his mother asked for his opinion while sketching and designing her clothes.
Her exotic butterscotch hair was twirled and twisted in a low and loose chignon, a few tendrils kissing her cut jawline. Her eyeliner was sharp, taking flight as the kohl on her water line stayed at bay. Her entire look was crème and roses, and she looked like the epitome of perfection.
Her eyelids were shy in their gaze as they stayed lowered, not meeting his eyes. Her lips were full, but he could see the small line of worry that itched the ends.
"Ms. Firdaus is a shehzadi," Safeera whispered to Benazir.
A shehzadi indeed.
Suddenly his rigid posture relaxed as she ascended the stairs and moved to the stage. His body relaxed and the nerves were now buried deep as she came to stand in front of him- a single expanse of a veil separating them.
The two families exchanged their salaams while they all sat down, and the Maulvi sat on the outskirts of the stage, so he could see both the bride and the groom. His lips broadened into a familiar smile as he looked over both sides.
May Allah SWT bless them and their marriage.
~|✵|~
As they took their seats on the cushioned floor, Firdaus's cheeks flushed. She could feel the eyes of many on her, but the pair of eyes directly in front of her felt like two bullets of fire. One minute she was hot, and the next, she was clammy and cool.
The multiple folds of her skirt surrounded her in a perfect circle as she took her seat in front of the veil, shielding her away from him and his family. She was thankful for the support on both sides of her and behind her. Nani Maa sat to her right, and Faryal sat to her left. Both of her Mamu's, Amaanah Mami, Idris, and Hashir were just behind her, and she felt secure.
As the Maulvi started his khutbah on marriage, love, respect, and treating your partner as your equal, Firdaus's throat dried and her hands slightly shook. To keep her sanity, she looked down at her hands and played with the rings on every other finger except for the ring finger on her left hand that remained bare. Her mehndi had left a deep reddish brown stain, and everyone that morning had gushed about how it had meant that her husband would love her madly.
She internally rolled her eyes at the thought and shook her head, as her attention went back to what the Maulvi was saying. The flowers above them swayed with the cool breeze, and her nostrils were filled with the strong scent of the pollen.
Her mind had been blocking the thoughts of this very moment ever since she had woken up that morning, but she could not help and think about what life would be like once she said the two words: qubool hai (I do).
Would I be able to become a loving daughter-in-law? Would I be a good mother to the child who had never seen her real mother's face? Would I be a good... wife?
Her thoughts stuck to her like honey, and no matter how much she tried she could not get the thoughts out of her mind. Every time her alter ego asked a question, she was reminded of her mother's pleads to her father that had no ounce of mercy on her or the two daughters. Her mother's pale face was a deep image etched into her memory, and the blood on her hands from the night the gunshots were fired remained like an unwanted curse.
Nani Maa had warned her to not let the past speak for her future, but it was terribly difficult. Yet, she had made a promise to her Nani Maa. She had promised to try her hardest to give Ridwan a chance, but only fate knew whether her efforts would be rewarded.
The Maulvi's voice resonated throughout the entire grounds of the resort. Before she knew it, she was being asked the biggest question of her life. And in that moment, time truly felt like it had stopped for her.
"Do you, Firdaus Naaz Qadeer, daughter of the late Zayan Gul Rang and the late Muskaan Irsa Qadeer, take Ridwan Malik, son of Muhammad Qasim Malik and Rabia Sulaiman as your husband in the name of Islam and the agreed upon Mahar?"
The remembrance of the man who had been her father sounded like a curse. Even his name was etched into her future, a call for destruction in the making.
Her eyes rounded as unshed tears swam on the edges of her waterline. Her head was starting to feel heavy. The dupatta on her head suddenly held more weight than the leaves on the trees that awaited her response. Her lips trembled before she could comprehend what the Maulvi had asked. Everyone was dead silent, and all eyes watched her without a single blink of the curious lids. Even the wind had paused its whispering as the birds quieted and watched from afar. They waited, gently and patiently for the answer they craved to hear.
"Meri jaan," Nani Maa whispered to Firdaus as her gaze stayed locked on her hands.
Faryal rubbed her palm on the small of Firdaus's back, giving her the strength she needed. She could hear the sniffling behind her, and she knew that Amaanah Mami was already tearful.
"I will ask again," the Maulvi repeated once more, this time gently rather than strongly.
"Qubool hai," her delicate voice was heard through the crowd and she could hear the sighs of thankfulness. It was sudden, breaking the ice in the air as everyone let out an audible breath of air. The birds picked up their whimsical chirping as the wind breathed a sigh of relief.
The Maulvi repeated twice more, and before she knew it, she had done her part. Zaakir Mamu, Tabrez Mamu, and Idris were her witnesses, and they had given her courage from the back when the Maulvi came to her for her signature.
As the Maulvi went to the other side to ask him the same thing, Faryal and Nani Maa hugged her from each side, their tears of equal joy and sadness seeping through the fabric of her dress as she sat crestfallen.
~|✵|~
Ridwan cleared his throat as the Maulvi's voice rang clear through every fiber of his body. "Do you, Ridwan Malik, son of Muhammad Qasim Malik and Rabia Sulaiman, take Firdaus Naaz Qadeer, daughter of the late Zayan Gul Rang and the late Muskaan Irsa Qadeer, as your wife in the name of Islam and the agreed upon Mahar?"
"Qubool hai," he said without any hesitation, his husky voice thudding with certainty.
Maulvi repeated himself twice more as he had with Firdaus, and with each time, Ridwan's answer was more firm than the last.
Once the third 'qubool hai' was said as clear as the day, everyone clapped and cheered. He signed the papers, and they all raised their hands in prayer.
His eyes did not slip while he secretly watched Firdaus as Benazir stood on one end of the veil between them and Faryal stood on the other.
On the silent count of three, they both let the veil fall free from where it had been hung through two loops from the ceiling of the dome above them. The veil gently cascaded down the middle, and there was finally no boundary separating Ridwan from her, from Firdaus.
Everyone cheered jovially and they swarmed the bride and groom with congratulatory expressions. He could barely see her as his daughter jumped into his arms, his cousins hugged him, and his relatives swarmed him. Firdaus had turned her back as her loved ones hugged her and wiped her silent tears away.
He only hoped and prayed that those tears end here.
~|✵|~
"Look up," Dariyah instructed as she dabbed the bottom of Firdaus's eyes, making sure her makeup was still impeccable even after the tears she had shed following the ever so resplendent Nikkah ceremony.
Sulva put Firdaus's veil back in place after Dariyah was finished. They were all in a back room of the banquet hall, waiting for Ridwan and his family to make their entrance into the hall before it was the bride's turn.
All the guests had been seated inside just minutes before, and the bride and groom now husband and wife were to enter and take center stage one more time. The girls had fussed over Firdaus as they made sure everything was in place before the bride made her grand entry.
"Baas, hogaya (finished)?" Mehnaz asked as she watched her granddaughter with sad yet happy eyes. It was a riveting feeling, and she did not know which emotion she felt stronger. It was as if both had incapacitated her wholly.
"Yes, Nani Maa!" Dariyah smiled before helping Firdaus stand up.
They all lined up strategically, readying for their entrance. Mehnaz and Faryal stood on either side of Firdaus while Zaakir and Maida stood directly behind and Amaanah, Tabrez, and Idris stood behind them. Zubaida had opted to stand at the back of her family rather than with them, taking Hashir along with her though he had cried to stand in the front. It was thought that Zaakir and Tabrez would stand beside Firdaus as she walked to her seat next to her rightful husband, but the brothers had handed Firdaus to Mehnaz and Faryal, telling them that this was their right and that they meant more than the entire world to Firdaus.
This heartfelt act had irked Maida, but she had bit her tongue for once not wanting to be the known cause of trouble. She wanted her husband front and center, and had to take more than a sore pill to keep herself from saying anything out loud that her mind had spoken. Everyone knew and believed that the rightfully owned privilege to walk Firdaus down to her husband only belonged to Faryal and Mehnaz. One had kept her from falling into the realms of darkness when all love, security, and sense of normality had left her, and the other had helped her keep close to reality and gain the love and respect that she had today. If anyone should walk Firdaus down the aisle and hand her to her husband, it should be her sister and her grandmother... her two reasons for survival and life.
"Ma sha Allah, kisi ki nazar na laage (may no one's evil eye fall upon you)," Mehnaz said as she clasped her hands around Firdaus cheeks and bent her head forward to kiss her forehead.
"Aab toh sirf ek hi jaan ki nazar iss chehre ko qubool ho gi (This face is going to only accept one heart's gaze from now on)," Faryal tried to lighten the mood, but her own thick voice was on the surface.
Firdaus turned from her Nani Maa to her sister. Faryal grinned at her, but her eyes could not lie today. A single tear fell from the outer corner of her eye and slid down to the smile that she kept bright and gleaming. Firdaus's voice hitched in her throat as she lifted her hand and wiped the tear away. Her bangles clicked into one another as Faryal grabbed her wrist and turned her cheek into Firdaus's palm.
"Uff! What is happening here? You ladies are acting if the Rukhsati is happening right now," Idris said from behind, earning a smile from everyone. "Now shall we go? I can feel Dulha Bhai's bechaini to see his dulhan all the way here," Idris's voice echoed in the room and the voices picked up. They all gathered and made their way to the banquet hall.
~|✵|~
The inside of the banquet hall had been created into an evergreen garden that bloomed all types of flowers in shades of white and ivory. Greenery had made its home on the outskirts of the hall as fresh white cherry blossoms made up the entrance. The branches of which fixated itself around the doorway that led inside. The walkway to the stage ascended with a pure white silk runner both sides of which were statured with tall single rustic gold candelabras of water and small luminescent candles. It lit the path with a deep serenity that escalated in the room.
Halos of fresh and the brightest of greens fell from the ceiling with strands of crystals around the high and intricate chandeliers. Strings of gossamer and more flowers draped around the wreaths as they fell in various lengths midway from the ceiling.
Large rectangular tables filled with more white flowers, accented with shades of pink and peach sat in the middle of the tables. The cutlery was of a rustic gold as were the chairs that were clothed in big large white satin bows. The fabric covering the tables for the guests and bride and groom were plush and shining against the radiant lights strategically placed around the room.
The decorations were nothing short of perfection, and it oozed pure elegance. The cameras clicked, the awes an ohs of people resonated through the room as the beautiful bride made her way to the groom with her family and loved ones.
As they came into view and walked down the white runner filled with rose petals on the pathway, Firdaus sighed at the entire space. She was careful not to step too hard on the petals and hurt them under her feet as she made her way towards the stage. After all, they had bared witness to what was to be her day of happiness.
As she went down the center of the room, she could see her colleagues, friends, and family watching her with sheer awe. She caught Asad's halfhearted smile as he leaned into a wall with his hands tucked into the pockets of his shalwar kameez. She smiled to herself when Dariyah went to his side and silently stood next to him.
Her eyelids remained lowered as she felt herself being absorbed into a strange magnetic field. The waves of which were terribly strong, pushing her against an unmatched enigmatic force. The walls that she had built around her in the past years stood tall as she made her way to the steps of the stage.
Faryal and Mehnaz walked her up the stairs where the Maliks stood waiting for her ever so patiently. A single pair of eyes sought her out, and when her eyes finally met his, an irrevocable breath of relief left her lips.
His eyes were like the suns rays dipped in sweet honey. They shined under the lights that fell from the ceiling. His hair was combed back impeccably, the luster a mingle of coffee beans in the richest of liquor. The sharp cut features of his face and body complimented his tall frame and strong built. His shoulders were slight broad, but did not overstep the boundaries of his lean figure. A short beard kissed the sides of his face and upper lip, and his nose sat straight and thin.
She'd barely had time to imagine what he had looked like, but the times her mind did roam had left ghastly imaginations.
His eyes held hers for a few seconds too long before Firdaus felt like her palms were suddenly sweating. She quickly looked away and her toes curled into themselves over her shoes.
"Aao, meri jaan (Come, my darling)," Rabia said as stretched her hand out, and Mehnaz happily put Firdaus's hand in hers.
"Aaj se mera dil aapka hua (Today, my heart has become yours)," Mehnaz said with a thick voice.
Firdaus looked to her side, and Faryal gave her a single nod. The silent act of strength was everything that kept Firdaus where she was. She could not handle the affection that the single moment welcomed. She was not used to receiving so much love unless it was from her family that had taught her what it was like to be loved.
She had known the love of her sister, grandmother, uncles, aunt, and cousin brothers. However, her mind and body did not know how to receive affection from strangers... and definitely not strange men.
Her chest had been quivering with each breath ever since she had stepped out of the car when they reached the resort, but she knew how to hold her place and act calm and composed. She had been a player in this game since forever.
"Nani, aapne humare Ridwan ko apna dil diya, isse bara aur kuch nahi ho sakta (Nothing can be compared to the face that you gave us your heart, Nani). Hume naaz hai ke humara Ridwan iss dil ko bahut khoobsurati se rakhe ga (We are prideful that our Ridwan will keep this heart beautifully)," Delkash said with a wide smile.
The families exchanged a few more words before the bride came to stand next to the groom, and pictures were clicked with the family members, in couples, and in groups.
After the pictures were over, there was a strange desire to move her head towards the man that stood tall next to her. However, she kept her gaze straight ahead. She had avoided meeting his gaze the whole time the pictures were being taken, and now she was being thrown into the vortex. As she took her seat next to him on the antique chaise lounge made of ivory fabric and carved rustic gold details on the stage, she kept a wide space in between. She swallowed a dry gulp, caving into herself, ignoring the side glance he gave her.
~|✵|~
After a slew of pictures were clicked and the bride and groom sat down, Delkash made her way towards her new sister-in-law to start the ring ceremony. Decked in a white organza kurta with small jasmine flowers blooming from the ends of the peplum cut and upwards paired with heavily embellished cigarette trousers and dupatta, she came to stand in front of Firdaus. Firdaus smiled at Delkash as she watched her through her veil. Delkash smiled back wholeheartedly and placed her hands on her cheeks.
She brought Firdaus's face closer to her and kissed her forehead. "Ijaazat hai (Is there permission to do so)?" she whispered with glimmering and fond eyes, indicating towards her wedding veil.
Firdaus swallowed before gently nodding, "Ijaazat hai (Permission granted)," she replied in her delicate yet alluring voice.
Delkash watched her in awe. Her voice was so gentle yet demanded to be heard. Delkash nodded and stepped to the side so that Ridwan could move a little closer. Her brother had asked her to take permission on his behalf before he touched Firdaus for the very first time. The memory of him asking her the night before brought a smile to Delkash's face. These two were so well mannered, that anyone else would have taken advantage of it. But they were perfectly paired, Alhamdullilah.
Firdaus held her breath as the space between the two of them became increasingly minimal. Her voice shook in her throat, but no words came out.
She could feel the room buzzing with a new aura. Faryal, their cousins, and her friends were watching them with knowing smiles. She knew that he was moving in to remove her wedding veil, and she was left devoid of any words and emotions. She nearly forgot how to speak.
His proximity had done more damage than she could surmise.
Her eyes stayed down even when he had leaned in closer. He smelt of the woods in the nighttime and leaves coated with fresh rain.
"AsSalaamualaikum," he cleared his voice before he greeted her in his deep and husky voice. It was sharp like ice, but warm like fire.
"Walaikum asSalaam," her voice on the other hand was barely audible, but he had heard her nonetheless.
"May I?" he gestured at her net veil, and she nodded mechanically.
Everyone in the room had held their breaths, not wanting to ruin the moment as Ridwan fingered the edge of her veil and lifted it, slowly moving it back to sit just short of her hairline.
Firdaus slowly lifted her heavy lids and met his eyes for the smallest of minutes that captured everything and so much more. His eyes watched were like the amber sunset that had washed over after Maghrib. She was not ready for the closer look she had gotten of him as he moved a single piece of her hair away from where it was stuck on her lips before thinking twice.
The thick and rich brown locks of his hair hid his true age. His lips were full, a small smile grazing the secrets that it kept hidden in one thousand and one ways. His jawline was sharp like ice, his perfectly trimmed beard complimenting it further.
Her eyes slowly looked to the side and everyone awed and haye-d. She knew that the blush was rising from her collarbones and to her hairline. His eyes crinkled as he shook his head nonchalantly from the woos in the back.
~|✵|~
At last, she had met his eyes regardless of the fact that it was for a short 30 seconds, it was better than nothing. Remembering what his mother said, Ridwan grabbed the ring box from his pocket. He extended his left hand to her, his palm facing up and she looked at him with hesitant eyes.
Her eyes were like emeralds coated in bronze glass, and he did not dare to look away. His gaze compelled her to place her shaky left hand in his palm, and the warmth from him radiated into her. Her fingers were long and slender. Piano fingers, he thought to himself. He was mesmerized by the way her palms blushed upon her unblemished creamy skin... just like her feet. The memory of their first meeting rang clear in his mind.
Ridwan was held back from the way her hand had been freezing, and he nearly forgot the ring. Her nervousness was beyond him, and he felt a pang of pain.
"Beta, what are you waiting for? Come on, put the ring on Firdaus," Qasim said from where he stood a few feet away with Rabia.
He slipped the ring onto her ring finger, and the curls of her ever so long lashes created a heavy curtain on her rosy cheekbones. Afterwards, Firdaus quickly slipped her hand back to her lap and looked towards Faryal. From the way Ridwan was sitting beside her, he knew that nobody would have noticed the act, but there was a clear question in the air.
"What do you think, Firdaus? Do you like it?" Delkash asked on her brother's behalf.
The ring was one of a kind and made just for Firdaus. There was only one version of it in the entire world, and it had found its home within Firdaus. The band was thin and engraved with small diamonds that led to the center. Two rounds of diamonds made a circle in the middle that held one single diamond. The silver and diamond ring was exquisite, and when it caught the light, hints of rose gold could be seen between each groove.
"It's beautiful, thank you," Firdaus answered with a single nod.
"Oh do not thank me! Thank Ridwan, it was his choice," Delkash said.
Haseena cleared her throat, annoyed at the delicacy in the air. "He had it made just for you," her words oozed with protectiveness.
Benazir cleared her throat, biting back her words that demanded to shush her elder sister, but she was thankful that Amaanah had stepped in and handed Firdaus Ridwan's ring. She was tired of Haseena making everything seem like it was a favor that their brother had made by marrying Firdaus.
Firdaus took the ring out of the velvet black cushion and held it out towards Ridwan. He watched her every move as he extended his left hand towards her. She was careful to only touch the silver of the ring as she pushed it into his ring finger, not waiting a single second more than she had to.
She was inexplicably shy.
They all clapped before their family members disappeared from the stage, one by one. And before they knew it, it was just them on the stage.
It was going to be a long evening.
~|✵|~
"Doesn't she look just so beautiful?" Safeera gushed about Firdaus as she and Benazir walked out of the bathroom.
"She does, ma sha Allah!" Benazir replied. She held Safeera's small hand in one of hers while the other fixed the gharara pants of her outfit. She extended her dupatta over her shoulder as it kept catching under the heel of her stilettos.
"Bee Phups, are we going to eat now? I can smell the biryani! Mmm!" Safeera closed her eyes as she inhaled the scent the biryani.
"Yes, darling. I will feed you with Ozair and Jahanzeb-" Benazir was in the middle of replying when she heard voices around the corner to the banquet hall.
"Oh Idris, you have grown more handsome in the past years. Koi shaks inta bhi khoobsurat kaise ho sakta hai (How can someone be this beautiful)?" her sultry voice made Benazir want to vomit, be she resisted.
As they turned the corner, Benazir stopped in her tracks, causing Safeera to tug on her arm. Benazir's mouth widened as she found one of the girls she'd seen inside leaning against the wall and staring at a man she thought she knew well enough.
She let out an involuntary gasp as her hand instantly covered Safeera's eyes. The girl had been running a finger down the line of buttons in the middle of Idris's chest. She knew it was him regardless of the fact that his back was to her. She could not mistake the sharp shoulder blades that peaked through his cotton embroidered white kurta and shalwar, the broad shoulders, the short strands of hair in the back of his head. His posture seemed violated, his arms at his sides contracting as his hands turned into fists.
"Bee Phups, what are you doing?" Safeera complained behind Benazir's shielding hand.
Idris caught the unknown girl's finger in his hand and moved it away before turning around to catch both aunt and niece.
Benazir cursed under her lips. This girl and her damn voice.
The seductress now behind Idris moved to the side to see who had interrupted her plans to make Idris fall for her. She looked Benazir up and down and then back at Idris who watched her while shaking his head.
Benazir caught a more clear look of the girl, and her mouth closed into a firm line. The girl's cat eyes had leered at her, but Benazir was no less. Within seconds she had decided she did not like the girl one bit, and nothing about her white sari with a more scandalous blouse than Pakistan's prime minister.
By the time Benazir looked away from Idris, Safeera had succeeded in moving away her phuppo's hand. "Uff Bee Phups, what happened?"
Safeera looked ahead and smiled when she saw Idris.
"Hey beautiful," Idris smiled before he bent down and opened his arms to her.
Leaving her phuppo's side and hand, Safeera walked to Idris and gave him a tight hug. They had only met hours ago, and she was already in love with him.
"Hi Mr. Handsome," her term of endearment brought a smile to his gleaming face.
Benazir folded her arms across her chest and glared right back at the girl who threw knives with her eyes.
"Did you eat?" he asked his new friend, patting her cheeks.
"No, Bee Phups and I were just going inside. We had to go to the bathroom because Bee Phups's gharara was-" Safeera could barely finish before Benazir's cheeks went up in flames.
"Saf! Chalo andaar jao, main arahi hoon (Go inside, I'm coming)," Benazir stopped her before she could continue.
Safeera looked back down at Idris who was still bent at her height and shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "I'll see you later, Mr. Handsome!" she smiled at him before giving a wave to the girl who stood and watched.
Bless this girl for being kind to every single person she came across.
Idris stood up, ignoring the girl he had been talking to before completely. Benazir would not meet his eyes, but the mixed feelings of despise and envy behind her irises did not go unnoticed. He breathed in her sight, and she looked exquisite in her short white and silver kameez paired with a gharara and heavy dupatta. The soft curls of her hair created a frame around her face, and he had the urge to wipe away the frown on her bow lips.
"What was Safeera saying?" He mimicked her posture, crossing his arms over his chest.
Benazir ignored the strength in his arms and the fact that the first two buttons of his kurta were undone.
How can he act so normal when he was flirting with this... this beghairat just seconds ago?
"Nothing," she said. She was not about to announce that her gharara pants were too loose on the waist and she had forgotten to pin them before leaving the house. Thankfully, Haseena had extra safety pins and did not mind lending her two.
"Are you okay?" his voice dropped a few octaves as he looked over her face.
Benazir quickly masked a smile, and looked back at the girl behind his shoulder who was ready to strangle her throat for stealing her two minutes of glory.
That single exchange gave it away, and Idris knew that Benazir thought something was going on with him and Natasha who he barely even remembered was his father's friend's daughter until she came up to him after the Nikkah and introduced herself.
"Yeah, just wonderful. I'm sorry, I did not mean to interrupt. I should go now, everyone must be looking for me," Benazir nodded and headed inside.
Idris let out a heavy sigh as he watched her take off.
"Idris, you were about to give me your number so we can keep in touch? Don't want you forgetting me again, Mr. Handsome," she tried her hand at playing the cards. But she failed miserably.
"No, I wasn't actually." He turned to look at her, "I was actually just about to tell you that I am not interested in whatever you were thinking. Thank you, and please. Enjoy my sister's wedding," he smiled and walked towards the hall.
His heart and mind was set for someone else.
"Oh, and-" he stopped to turn back around. "I am only Safeera's Mr. Handsome," he grinned and went inside.
~
Glossary:
Rukhsati~ "sending off" the bride with the groom from the venue
Sherwani~ knee-length coat that buttons to the neck
Shehzadi~ princess
Maulvi~ another name for 'Imam'
Khutbah~ sermon
Dulha bhai~ brother-in-law
Bechaini~ impatience
Beghairat~ shameless
AsSalaamualaikum and Hello my lovely readers! Happy Friday!
How are you all? I hope you all have been well, and have enjoyed this chapter to every bit!
Ridwan and Firdaus are FINALLY married, can we get an AYE?
What did you guys think about the chapter? Comment away, and please do not forget to hit that star.
I know this chapter was supposed to be updated earlier, but life happens and things need to be shifted around. (: Thank you to those who were so patient with me! You all are special!
Name your favorite part in the chapter! GO!
Which character stole your heart in this chapter?
Do we have ships sailing?
There will be a second part posted for this chapter, so do not worry. I would not end the much awaited wedding affair just like that. ;) However, I do not know when the next chapter will be updated so please bear with me. I promise I will complete this story wholeheartedly as long as Allah wills! In sha Allah.