Her Unwanted Husband

|9|

MARIA

"Angh?"

"MARIA!"

I bolt upright. Then blink.

"Mama? What...where...huh?"

"It's 11 in the morning. You have to get up. Hurry hurry hurry." She says, her voice panicked.

I get up, no questions asked.

Then, my footsteps come to a halt. 

"Where am I going? Mama, I swear if it's for the mehndi function I'll-I'll jump out of the window."

She looks at me and makes a tutting sound. 

"The mehndi was last night. Today is your nikkah."

My eyes are now wide open. 

"Do you mean that I slept all day yesterday?"

"Yes. You claim to be a practising Muslim yet you can't even listen to your parents. Allah says to listen to everything your parents say. I had to hear so much from people yesterday."

And I just think, here goes the emotional blackmailing.

"Yes, He does tell us to be on our best behaviour to our parents and to not even say 'uff' to them. But He doesn't command me to sit on a stage with a random man-who by the way still is my non-mahram (someone who you can get married to but aren’t married yet)- and show off to other people. Isn't that why you do it? So you can let everyone know how much money you have."

I sigh after my long speech. But mama's face still looks like she's going to argue. God, why can't she ever understand?

"Leave this. Tell me why you came here?" I ask.

She sighs dramatically, "It's your nikkah in another four hours. So you have to go to the parlour for hair and makeup and try on your dress for today and tomorrow to see if there is any need for last hour alterations."

I resist the urge to scoff. I can't let my patience run out. Especially with my mother. "Mama, it's a nikkah. It should be simple. Just tell the nikkah person to come to our house and Emad and I will sign the papers."

Nikkah person. I did not just say that.

She looks thoughtful, like she hasn't ever thought of this idea before. Then hums.

"Okay, let's do it like that. But," she points a finger at my face. "you have to do the rest as I say."

"Yes, ma'am."

—

'The rest' as she said proved to be quite bad for me.

I have to still get my hair and makeup done and wear fancy clothes.

Oh, and did I mention that I'm going to be sleeping in Emad's room from now on? Well, it's apparently a baraat (another traditional function). I have to move from my room to his.

And I could literally cry for this only. That is, if I wasn't currently getting my eye makeup done.

—

I sit in Emad's room while he signs the papers downstairs.

And no, I'm not sitting in the middle of the bed.

Mama brings the nikkah papers for me to sign. I quietly check each and everything. Especially, if there is an option for divorce if I want it later.

And there is.

I sign them, my hands shaking. Why won't they stop shaking?

When I'm done and my mother, 'mother-in-law' and 'sisters-in-law' hug and congratulate me that's when it all finally dawns in on me.

I'm married.

And I'm supposed to be consummating my marriage tonight. With my cousin and childhood bestie.

Tears form in my eyes. No matter how much I try to stop them. They. Just. Won't. Stop.

God, this is so scary.