F i f t y O n e
This one is for

Mashal
The second my bullet hit Aymur, the watch on my hand rang frantically as if it was an alarm set to blare the second the challenge terminated.

My surroundings grew dimmer for a few seconds before the hall became normal, with plain walls and a grey floor much like Khawlah.
The bodies of all the women who had participated lay on the floor paralysed. I thought I was the only one standing until I heard Zeyara call out my name.
"Mashal! You did it."

My head flung to my right where he stood without the mask he was previously wearing, Kashf probably tested his weakness- to show his real face. Around him lay the paralysed bodies of the male contestants.
We were the last two standing.

"We did it sheikh!" I exclaimed, emphasising the "we" as I ran to him, feeling like a bird once again, after a long time.

Zeyara's arms wrapped around my frail waist and he flung me up in the air, my feet no longer touching the low earth.
I closed my eyes and savoured the volatile moment.

I could stay there forever and pretend I was a tiny bulbul, remain in that serene moment of laughter when Zeyara spun me around before putting me down again.
The pride in Zeyara's eyes, knowing that he cherished me, preferred me over all the women of the world was felicity for me.

The gates of Kashf opened with a flood of lights, confetti and glitter on the two of us along with the cheers and applause of the people as they came running in. A few paramedics ran to attend the paralysed participants, while Simayi Wang's enthusiastic voice blasted in the speakers, mixed with the claps of the spectators in cavern.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have our two leaders!"

I had actually done it!

*

The last evening of Ramadan when the shy crescent finally appeared on the skyline, declaring an end to the holy month and a beginning to the eid festival was also, according to plan 009, Ibby's zubiha day.

Nearly everyone at Alnihayya was gushing about that wedding even though they had no idea who the bride was but knew very well that the groom was the Imam from the masjid.
Some people had even come up with love stories about those two 'lucky' people who were going to be the first ones to get married at Alnihayya.
The most interesting of those stories was the one I had heard in the cavern from a group of teenage girls.

"You know the girl was an Israeli! She was a Jew but when she heard our Imam reading the Quran she fell in love with him and accepted Islam."

"Really? That's so romantic." The girl's friend had answered with the cheesiest 'awwww' sound ever.

I had almost choked on my juice when I heard that one but that was not the only story. There were others like;

"The imam is going to marry a widow of an Alnihayya fighter."

"The girl ran away from her house for him."

"She was so pretty that even the imam couldn't resist."

Then there was my husband who had the least interest in attending the wedding. Even lesser than the interest in Islamic banking.

"It's not necessary to go. It's not fard." He groaned, covering his eyes with his arm since I had turned on the lights, interrupting his hibernation mode.

"Zeyaraaa! It's my brother's and my potential sister's wedding. You're supposed to be a witness so stop lazing around and get dressed!" I pulled his leg to get him out of the bed since he wasn't listening.

"Ouch!" He faked a painful scream. "See this is the torture Ibrahim is signing up for. He shouldn't be celebrating, he should be crying!"

"Zeyara get up now! Enough of this drama. We are the only relatives Ibrahim and Minahil have here. We should be the first ones to go!" I snatched away the sheet from his hands even though he had clung to it as if his- sleep depended on it.

"Okay okay! Stop making me regret that I taught you to fight." He got up from the bed lazily stretching his arms. "Do I really need to get dressed? I mean I already impressed you, I don't need to impress more women."

I put my hands on my hips and stared at him incredulously. "You impressed me?! I only married you because--"

"Because I'm so freaking hot that I made you sweat even in the December snowfall."

"You do make me sweat! But not by your non existent hotness, by your stupid incomplete hints like that un rhyming poem." I glared at him, suddenly remembering that un romantic poem. "Tell me what that means!"

He sighed audibly, hand nervously scratching the back of his neck. "About that.....Mashal I haven't been completely honest with you."

"What.....what is it Zeyara?" I gulped, I knew it was going to be something bad.

"I don't know how you're going to react." He muttered staring down at his feet which made me even more stressed.

"Just tell me Zeyara!"

"Okay...... I didn't want to tell you so soon but-" he took in a deep breath, making my anticipating grow. "I am batman."

He had to run into the bathroom at the speed of light to dodge the slippers, pillows and the empty water bottle that I threw at him.

"Ha! You missed zawjati." He opened the bathroom door slightly and peeked out at me. "My special bat powers--"

Taking the chance, I threw the first thing that came into my hand and it hit his face before he could complete his sentence.

Only when his already burnt face was further embellished with red nail polish, did I realise that I had thrown the uncapped nail polish bottle on him that I was previously using.

"Ha! Still it didn't hurt." He stuck his tongue out at me completely oblivious to the damage the nail polish had done.

"Yeah you win." I mumbled, repressing my laughter to not get caught.

While Zeyara went to take a bath, I laid out his clothes for him, a golden thobe that I had bought from the eid market in Gaza. Zeyara still hadn't seen it but I was sure he would love it.
Then I took my clothes and left for Minahil's room where Minahil's friends and a few other girls had gathered to get the bride ready.

By the time I reached her room, Minahil was already dressed up and sitting in front of the dressing table as a few girls fussed around to get her hair done.
I felt my heart sink when I saw all the beauty in that room. The girls with their vibrant flowing designer clothes, varnished fingernails, pouting lips and the skilfully done make up. Also the way they carried themselves with confidence, the silky hair that fell on their shoulders and the way they pronounced brand names I had never even heard of. Not to mention Minahil in her mint bead encrusted dress with intricate bridal patterns of henna on her hands and the expensive air of perfume, men's perfume that hit my nostrils.

No one had noticed me yet, I was standing at the half opened door staring at them as they put on jewellery and took selfies, laughing, chatting and complimenting each other. My eyes travelled down to my shabby bitten nails and carelessly applied nail polish that escaped to my fingers. Then to the dress in my hand that I had bought-- a red and black Palestinian abaya. It seemed worthless in front of every thing I had seen in the room. I had no henna on my hands, not enough practice to get that on 'fleek' make up and no jewellery whatsoever.

Suddenly I felt so out of place that I walked away quietly before they could notice my 'old fashioned' dress or my lack of fashion sense.

I walked back to my own room feeling almost depressed and embarrassed at the same time. I had just fasted for a whole month but I was still unable to get rid of my insecurities.
Zeyara had come out of the bathroom and was in the middle of wearing his clothes when I opened the door and barged in.

"Hey!!" He protested at my lack of knocking. He had one leg in the trouser and one hanging in the air and now that I distracted him, he lost his balance and fell down, his legs entangled in his clothes.

I lost myself at the scene in front of me, toppling over in laughter even though I had been feeling trashy.

Zeyara tried standing up but his clothes came under his feet and he slipped once again, hitting the floor face first.

"Mashal don't you dare tell this to anyone." He threatened once he finally managed to get up and into his trouser.

"I'll try." I chuckled, desperately trying to avoid his face which still had the red nail polish on it since Zeyara couldn't apply water to his face, he hadn't washed that off.

He had taken off the mirror from our room so he was still unmindful of my art on his face. I was thankful for that but not for long.

"Zawjati this dishdasha is amazing! I've never worn a golden one before." He exclaimed before grabbing his mobile to check how he looked.

"Don't!" I leapt up to him to prevent him from seeing the disaster on his face but before I could do so, he had already seen it.

"Mashal!" He yelled like an agitated mother of seven children as soon as his eyes fell on his image.

"Uh-- it looks good Zeyara." I said sheepishly. "You're lucky I did it free for you, girls spend so much money to get nail art."

"Allah gave you twenty nails but you only found my face to do nail art?!"

"I'm.... sorry?"

Zeyara ignored my unsure apology and threw himself on the bed, his arm under his head for support. "I'm not going out with this face."

I looked into his eyes, those gems were now my only way to know his feelings. And right now, he was feeling desolated.
"People already said I have the face of a burnt kebab and now...."

I bit my lip to stop myself from saying it but I couldn't resist. "Now the kebab has ketchup on it!"

Zeyara glared at me but I couldn't hold my laughter. He tried to keep a straight face for a few seconds but ended up laughing as well.
I lay down next to him, both of us still stifling laughter.

I put my head on his arm and kneeled in. For the first time since I came across Zeyara, he was wearing perfume today. A bold leathery smell swirled around him but I knew he smelled better without it.
His freshly conditioned hair seemed softer than usual but I resisted the urge to run my fingers through them.

"Shouldn't you be dressed up by now?" He asked suddenly, pulling me closer as he wrapped his free arm around me.

I pretended not to have felt anything by his action even though my insides were on fire.
"I- I don't want to go." I stuttered, unable to make eye contact.

Zeyara rolled his eyes and mimicked my tone. "We should be the first ones to go!"

"I take my words back. Let's go back to hibernation mode."

"Any particular reasons?" He asked, sensing the faking behind my smile.

"Because......not everyone is blind like you to think that I look good." I sighed.

"Well......I never said you look good..." He shrugged evasively in such a serious tone that it scared me.
"I said you look beautiful."

"That was more cheesy than an extra cheesy Dominos pizza."

"No! That was poeti-"

"It wasn't Zeyara! This time it really was cheesy." I chuckled. "Admit it!"

"Okay then....Beautiful you are,
Making the roses go redder
And the sky even bluer
Beautiful you are,
The answer to my prayer
By the God so near
Beautiful you are,
While I am shattered
To you though, it never mattered
Beautiful you a--"

"Fine! Now it's poetic." I giggled, desperately trying not to blush. "Thank you sheikh."

For some unknown reason Zeyara stared at me before bursting out into another fit of laughter.
I stared at him dumbfounded before he answered my unasked question.
"Nothing. I just imagined Ibrahim and Minahil."

"What about them?"

"Imagine Minahil saying thank you and Ibrahim correcting her, 'It's JazakAllah khair habibti, not thank you'."

"Ha. Ha. Ha. I'll pretend that was funny because it will hurt you to know that it wasn't and hurting your spouse is a sin." I sat up, removing his arm from around me.

I was about to get up from the bed but Zeyara grabbed my hand before I could do so.

"Red nails today?" He asked playfully inspecting my nails. "You didn't even have these on our own wedding."

"It's a good thing I didn't have them on my wedding." I pulled my hand away. "The colour doesn't suit my skin tone and my nails are too short for this."

"I just made up a cringy poem for you but you're still not convinced that I like you." He sat up as well and took my hand once again. "I find every single thing about you attractive."

"Really? Everything?!" I asked "Even these uneven nails?"

"Everything Mashal.....except for when you fart. That's disgusting."

"I don't!" I couldn't believe what he said.

"Don't even get me started zawjati. You're like a gas bomb at night." He sneered at me and laughed.

"You think this is funny?" I was about to hit him with whatever came in my hand- which was the bed sheet this time, but got interrupted by a violent knock at the door.

Escaping my wrath, Zeyara ran up to open the door.

A frustrated Ibrahim appeared before us in a fitted black suit with a mint tie- the same colour as Minahil's dress and a white rose bud on his collar. His black hair neatly gelled and lips twitching behind the tangle of beard.
He looked impressively well or maybe it was because he had never worn a suit before.

It was not just me, even Zeyara had paused to stare at my brother with a positive shock.

"Don't ask. Minahil got this for me." He said looking down at the ground, even before me or Zeyara could say anything.

We chuckled. "Okay."

Then he finally looked up, changing his expressions in a split second. "What are you two doing?! Everyone's waiting there in the cavern and--- " Ibrahim snapped before his eyes fell on the disaster on Zeyara's face. "Zeyara with all due respect, why do you want to scare people away from my wedding?"

"Hey! Your sister did that." Zeyara protested.

"It was his fault!" I shot back. "He started--"

"You two have a whole life ahead of you to fight but please not today. It's my wedding for Allah's sake!"

"Fine." Zeyara muttered.

"Only because you said Allah's sake." I added.

He shook his head in disbelief. "Zeyara go wear a mask and Mashal do whatever you girls do to get ready. You two have five minutes before I drag you out!"

"Aye aye Imam." Zeyara did a saluting gesture and ran off to grab his mask.

I knew it was going to be impossible for me to get ready in five minutes but I grabbed my clothes and ran to the bathroom. I got changed at the speed of light and hastily applied a bit of make up that I had bought even though there wasn't any mirror in the bathroom, all thanks to Zeyara. I had no idea what to do with my hair, I always had them covered or tied.
By this time, the boys were knocking at the bathroom door like crazy. Five minutes had passed long ago.

"Mashal if I stay single forever, it's because of you!" Ibrahim shouted.

"Zawjati if your brother strangles me today, it's because of you!"

I let my hair open wild because of their impatience and opened the door to step out.
"Have you both heard of a thing called sabr?!" I snapped and was expecting a witty comeback but instead, they paused and stared at me with a blank expression on their faces.

"What?"
I was positive I had probably applied the lipstick on my cheeks instead of my lips and ended looked like a clown.

Ibrahim was the first one to speak. He cleared his throat and turned around to walk away. "I'm going to be the first man to be late for his own wedding."

Zeyara however, stood frozen for a few more seconds before his eyes resumed their usual softness and a brilliant glow lit up in them.
"You look....." He paused as if searching for the right word, "breathtaking."

"Breathtaking.....as in when you see a Jin kind of breathtaking or when you see a chocolate?"

"When you see molten lava chocolate cake with milk chocolate frosting, kind of breathtaking." He replied making me smile and blush at the same time.

"Seriously?" We heard Ibrahim say in disbelief. "That's how you compliment each other? By comparing to chocolate?"

We weren't expecting Ibrahim to have heard our conversation so it was kind of embarrassing but Zeyara was quick to embarrass Ibrahim as well.

"Don't worry bro. Very soon your wife will be comparing you to make up." Zeyara laughed, "Honey you brighten up my life like this highlighter brightens up my face." He said in the most feminine voice he could muster.

We laughed while Ibrahim glared at us, reminding us once again that we were running late for his wedding.

They cavern had been parted with temporary walls, separating it for the men and women. When we reached there, Ibrahim forced Zeyara to go to the men's side even though he was adamant on being with me. "It's not fair! There should've been a special area reserved for lovers." He groaned before Ibrahim dragged him away.

The partition between the men and women was, in simple terms, an excuse for all the women to let down their hair and make duck faces in front of cameras.

I took off my veil and scarf once I knew I was only among women.
Everyone was a little more hyped up than they should've been, considering the impending war. The women's side buzzed with excited chatter, smiles and laughter. The girls were all dolled up in sparkling sequins, embroidery and heavy jewellery.

The cavern itself, looked like a bride. The technicians had done an amazing job with the colour theme. There were sheer mint curtains decorating the stage where Minahil sat along with her friends. Sparkling swags of voile were hung as the backdrop. Mint coloured, silk roses with ribbons tied around the banisters sat in the middle of each table. The ceiling covered entirely with glitter and diamond chandeliers with mint beading. The dramatic up lighting which changed colour every few seconds- from blue to green to red to pink to yellow.

The floor I walked on, shone like clear glass with a tiny highlight of mint and changed colour whenever I took a step.
Minahil would've wanted songs but I guess she opted for nasheeds only because of Ibrahim.
BarakAllah by Maher Zain blasted in the speakers and many girls sang along as well.

Minahil had undoubtedly done an amazing job to plan the wedding but I knew Ibrahim was going to get a heartache by all this extravagance.

I walked up to the stage where Minahil was sitting. She was the first bride I had seen who wasn't being shy or sitting numb like a statue. She was actually laughing and talking selfies.
She was also, probably the first bride to wear a mint coloured wedding dress.
Her languished eyes were adorned with glitter, caramel hair locked up in a bun with a few strands left out on purpose to frame her face and rosy thin lips with a huge bouquet of white roses in her hand wrapped with pearls and floral ribbons.

"Here comes my sister in law!" Minahil stood up excitedly, we shared a brief hug and I told her she looked pretty.

She did a twirl to show her dress, it happened to be backless to show off the henna art on her shoulders and upper back.

Ibrahim was so gong to get a heart attack.

"Mashal!! Did Ibrahim wear the suit I sent for him or is he still wearing a boring thobe?" She asked, once I sat down beside her.

I chuckled remembering my brother's suit. "He's wearing the suit. And he looks handsome."

Her friends around her oooooed and awwwed but Minahil wasn't someone who would blush shyly.

She forced me to take selfies with silly grins on my face. She did notice my dress and remarked on how I would've looked even prettier if I had let her buy me a dress. I nodded humbly and was thankful she didn't say anything more than that, I would've took it to heart.

The nikah contract came within a few minutes and Minahil signed it hastily, while her friends made videos to capture the moment.
There was unrestrained joy on Minahil's face as people came up to the stage to congratulate her, hug her and shower her with duas for a happy married life.
Then she was given gifts which were mostly huge amounts of money in tiny envelopes. Zara came up as well, so did Saddia. What fascinated me about Zara was that she was wearing her hijab even though everyone else had taken it off. And she was wearing an abaya as well which looked so similar to mine. It made me thoroughly happy and I ended up hugging her.

"Minahil I gifted you my brother. Is that enough?" I whispered in her Minahil's mockingly and she smiled back.

"Yeah but I provided the wrapping paper." She chuckled referring to Ibrahim's suit.

Then the food was served by those disc shaped cleaning robots I had previously seen. They had also been decorated with I&M written on them in cursive font. Ibrahim and Minahil.

Minahil had also ordered customised wedding favour boxes for all the guests. There were rows and rows of them, each containing chocolates, baclava and some dates. Minahil took the pain to go to each table individually and distribute the boxes. It was a miracle how that girl could balance on those tapping heels, which I was sure, would give Ibrahim another heart attack.

At one point she had begun coughing violently, leaving everyone concerned but a few pats on her back and a glass of water, calmed her.

Just when everyone had eaten and I was sure the fun was over, Minahil got on the stage and screamed out at the top of her lungs. "Bouncy castle time!"
The stage had embedded microphones so everyone heard her clear enough.

Everyone paused and stared at the bride, thinking she lost her mind because she couldn't have asked for a bouncy castle at her wedding day right?

Wrong.

It wasn't just one bouncy castle, there were at least ten of them or more. The tables were taken away, the castles were brought and inflated and Minahil was the first one to jump.....in her wedding dress.

I won't say it was a bad idea because I ended up jumping like crazy as well. The girls screamed and giggled, laughed and jumped and had the best time of their lives.
It was probably the first wedding in the world, which had turned into a jumping party.

"Minahil where did you get the idea for this?" I asked her in between our laughter, as we played ringa ringa roses on the bouncy castle.

"I had previously planned a dance but Ibby being the masjid he is, didn't allow that. Hence, this." She exclaimed.

The bouncy castles were only on the women's side so when Ibrahim heard the screams of the girls, he got concerned, the nasheeds were paused and Humna spoke, "The groom wants to come to this side, please cover up."

The girls got a panic attack, the scene was so hilarious. They were running around to find something to cover their heads and their exposed legs.

I even saw some girls using napkins on their heads while a few of them hid under the table on the stage.

"Wha--- bouncy castles?" Were Ibrahim's first words when he came over and stood on the stage. "These walls are not sound proof sisters, the men can all hear your voices. It's not modest at all."

"Ibby!!!" Minahil ran towards him, her long dress clutched in her hands, while everyone stared in silence. It was a good thing she had taken off her shoes for jumping, otherwise she would've fallen at that speed.

Ibrahim glanced at her with a blank expression before his gaze returned to the floor. Then suddenly his eyes rose as if realising that it was his wife and he was allowed to look. He stared at Minahil with an interesting shock plastered on his face as she came closer and closer.

The girls were already giggling, expecting them to hug. Even I was ready for it. This was going to be a fairytale moment.

Except, when she reached him, instead of a hug or a kiss, Minahil slapped Ibrahim right across the face.

"I had always wanted to do that!" She squealed "I can officially beat you now."

Confused laughter filled the cavern and Ibrahim held his slapped face with a scared expression.

"Minahil that was a little too much." I said, repressing my laughter as I joined them on the stage. "At least compliment each other."

"Fine." She muttered and examined her husband from head to toe. "You look good."

"You look.....like my death Angel." Ibrahim replied earning more laughter from the ladies.

"Guys! For real now, say something romantic!" I whined.

"Yes please!" A few of Minahil's friends joined in as well, holding their cameras to take pictures.

Minahil took in a deep breath and looked into Ibrahim's eyes and that was actually kinda cute until she opened he mouth.
"You look better than Zayn Malik and Harry styles combined."

Thankfully though, Ibrahim didn't find that offensive. Instead he smiled warmly. "You look like someone I would want to wake up beside everyday and pray fajr."

Minahil gulped. "Fajr.....everyday? Let's just keep that compliment for Ramadan only."

"Okay." Ibrahim shrugged. "I thought you would want to jump with me on the bouncy castle but since--"

"I'LL PRAY FAJR EVERY DAY! Let's jump!!"

The awwwwws and oooooooos returned as the new couple jumped together, hand in hand as the others stood around clapping, cheering and hooting. It was a moment of pure joy and Maher Zain's voice continued blasting in the speakers.

Baraka Allahu lakuma
Wa baraka 'alaykuma
Wa jama'a baynakuma
Fi khair

May Allah bless everything for you two
And shower His blessings upon the two of you
And may he bring you together
In everything that is good.

I was too absorbed in the scene in front of me when I felt a pat on my shoulder. I turned around abruptly to be face to face with Zeyara.
"Shhhhhhh" He motioned me not to speak and grabbed my hand, dragging me away from the crowd.

"I'm not wearing my hijab!" I said to him because you the looks of it, he was taking me out of the cavern.

"You don't need one." He whispered back. "Everyone's in the cavern. No one is out."

"But where are we going?" I asked him once we were in the elevator.

"To Kashf." He said happily and pressed. the button to take us to halba.

I stared at him stunned. "You can't be serious."

"I am zawjati." He chuckled, "Can't you see the elevator is taking us to halba."

"But I don't want to go there! I've done it once Zeyara. Why again?"

"Stop complaining Mashal." His voice became harsher now, like the days he used to teach me to fight. "You've had enough fun."

"But I'm not even prepared!"

"No more arguments. We're going there."
He said in an air of finality, shutting me up.

I was hating his attitude. He was so cheerful previously, don't know what happened.
I wanted to keep on complaining until he let me go but he was my husband after all.
I had to obey.

He walked ahead of me while I kept a frown on my face to let him know that I wasn't liking this.
He unlocked one of the gates of Kashf with the password he typed in. I wasn't ready to go in at all. Zeyara was being so mean to me.

"Go in." He ordered.

I swallowed all my anger, only because he was my husband and then walked in.
He walked in beside me.

A pleasant breeze greeted me, not too cold to make me shiver, neither too warm to make me sweat.
I was in a rose garden.
Rows and rows of red roses planted in flower beds and archs above my head like and entrance to somewhere special. The trees nested bulbuls which sand together in a chorus.
The sky was clear blue and the sun was beaming in joy.
I walked through the archs, the scent of roses surrounding me and halted in a clearing.

There was a wooden table, all covered with roses and a chocolate cake on it with the two numbers 1 and 8 in the form of candles.
18.

"Happy birthday zawjati." It was Zeayara's voice but there was no Zeyara there, just a strange unknown man whose face I couldn't recognise. He undoubtedly had Zeyara's curls and a curly beard as well. Clear tanned skin, not a single spot on his handsome face and his brown eyes sparkled in the sun.

And birthday......it was my birth day. A day I had never got to celebrate.

"W-who are you?" I asked. He had called me zawjati, he had Zeyara's voice, he was even wearing the same thobe Zeyara had been wearingbut Zeyara didn't have that attractive face.

"It is me, don't worry. " he chuckled. "This is my real face, the face I would've had right now. Kashf is an amazing thing to--"

I couldn't wait to let him complete his sentence, I ran up to him, he moved his head closer until our foreheads were resting against each other.

"Thank you." I said in barely more than a whisper.

"For what?" His voice came, low and husky.

"For being you." My voice was shaky but that was all we needed to lean in and share a kiss.

☆

*claps for herself and gives a pat on the back*
You did an amazing job Muskaan.

Awwwww thank you!

😂

Have a good day!
-Muskaan.