Jadwa stirred awake with a groan, she checked the time and saw it was past nine at night and wondered how she was able to sleep for that long. Her eyelids felt glued shut, and a dull throb pulsed in her neck. Every muscle in her body ached in protest as she tried to sit up. Memories of the day flooded back the yelling, the tears, the hurried ceremony. She winced, gingerly reaching for her neck and hissing as a jolt of pain shot through her.

Stumbling to the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face, trying to wash away the lingering fatigue. Her reflection in the mirror startled her. Her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed, the dark circles beneath them testament to a sleepless night.  Her hair, usually a cascade of glossy curls, now hung limp and tangled around her face.  She squeezed a damp washcloth and pressed it to her throbbing neck, the hiss escaping her lips barely audible.

A soft rap on the door sent a jolt through her. Before she could respond, the door creaked open, revealing Hanan's sympathetic face. Zarah followed close behind, her arms overflowing with an enormous bouquet of vibrantly colored flowers and a pretty wrapped gift box carried precariously by a house helper. 

Hanan shuffled closer, her touch tentative as she offered a side hug. Jadwa flinched at the contact, her body screaming for solitude.  Zarah, oblivious, beamed and placed the massive bouquet on the table, its sheer size dwarfing the huge space. A wan smile tugged at the corner of Jadwa's lips. Did they truly believe flowers could mend a broken heart?

Zarah engulfed her in a bone-crushing hug, the scent of her familiar perfume momentarily grounding Jadwa. "How are you feeling?" Hanan asked, her voice laced with concern as she gently massaged Jadwa's tense back.

"Like the walking dead," Jadwa mumbled, her voice hoarse.

"We understand," Zarah chimed in, her smile strained. 

An awkward silence stretched between them, broken only by the rhythmic tick of the clock on the wall.  Finally, a humorless chuckle escaped Jadwa's lips. "Is this why you guys spent a fortune on flowers?" she gestured towards the flamboyant bouquet, her voice tinged with sarcasm. "Seriously, how much did you spend on those?"

"We didn't get them," Hanan confessed, biting her lip nervously.  Jadwa's eyes narrowed, a flicker of suspicion replacing her apathy.  "Ameerah and Ya Ahmad?" she rolled her eyes, her frustration mounting.

Pushing herself to her feet, she shuffled towards the floral display.  The weight of the bouquet surprised her as she attempted to lift it, forcing her to drop it with a soft thud.  A card, nestled amongst the most beautiful flowers she had ever seen, caught her eye.  She unfolded it, her breath catching in her throat as she read the note.

"To my beautiful bride, Jadwa,

Today dawns with a light that rivals your beauty. May this day be carved in our hearts for eternity. You are a treasure more precious than any gem to me. I can hardly wait to see you and embark on this journey together, In Sha Allah.

-Your Husband, Muhammad Imran."

Jadwa re-read the message several times, her gaze fixated on the words "bride" and "husband."  A wave of dizziness washed over her, and she stumbled back, her legs threatening to give way.

"So I really am married, huh?" Jadwa whispered, her voice barely audible.

"You are," the girls chorused, a hint of amusement creeping into their voices.

"He called us earlier, while you were sleeping," Zarah said, nudging Hanan with her elbow.

"Oh," was all Jadwa could manage, the weight of the situation pressing more on her shoulders.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing in her ears.  "I feel sick," she choked out, pushing past the girls and collapsing onto the bed.  She pulled the duvet over her head, seeking refuge in the darkness.

But moments later, she grabbed her iPad and settled it on her chest.  She snatched it up, the cool metal a grounding presence against her burning skin.  But before she could lose herself in the familiar games, it was ripped away from her grasp.

"Are you going to stay like this all day?" Hanan's voice cut through the fog of her misery.

"What am I doing? I just don't have an appetite!" Jadwa protested, frustration bubbling up inside her.

"Please, Jadwa, talk to us," Hanan pleaded, her voice strained.

The room spun as Jadwa pushed herself out of bed. Her stomach churned, a rebellion against the lunch and dinner spread before her. "What am I doing?" she muttered, pushing the plate away with a clatter. "I just don't have an appetite!"

Hannan and Zara exchanged a worried glance. Jadwa, is usually composed, at least for a long time since her teenage days seemed to be crumbling. Ignoring their concern, she grabbed a jilbab and slipped into it.

"Escort me," she said flatly, her voice brittle.

Confusion clouded their faces. "But..." Zarah began, trailing off when Jadwa shot her a silencing glare.

"Didn't you say Baba was calling me?" she pressed, fixing the jilbab around her face. Her voice, usually melodious, was taut with repressed emotion.

Without another word, she swept out of the room, her steps heavy despite her forced haste. Hannan and Zara, left bewildered, followed closely behind.

Jadwa reached Baba's door, she swallowed a lump the size of a date, the act a battle against the scream threatening to erupt. Lifting a trembling hand, she rapped knuckles against the wood. There were only two ways out of this: acceptance, a bitter pill to swallow, or defiance, a path fraught with consequences. Deep down, she knew the latter was more likely.

A muffled "Come in!" broke the silence. Pushing open the door, Jadwa braced herself.

Baba sat on a plush cushion, a wide, uncharacteristic grin plastered on his face. "Assalamu Alaikum, Jadu my dear," he boomed, his voice dripping with forced cheer.
Her sisters were no were to be found, they disappeared after escorting her to the door.

Jadwa dipped into a curt curtsy, the respect ingrained in her warring with the resentment bubbling up. He insisted she sit beside him, the cushion feeling oddly comforting despite the circumstances.

"How are you today?" he asked, his smile reaching his eyes.

"I'm okay, Baba, how are you?" she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. Every effort went into masking the storm raging within.

"Never been better, my dear," he chirped, but the worry lines etched on his forehead were very visible. An awkward silence settled between them before he cleared his throat.

"Alhamdulillah, I've witnessed the day I have married you off, Jadu. This feels like a dream I've been hoping to achieve, not just for tradition's sake, but for the happiness I know awaits you, Jadu" he began.

"I understand..." his voice taking on a softer tone, "you might be nervous, upset even, with the suddenness of this union. But trust me, my child, it has been written by Allah. Who am I to change His will?" He reached out, taking her hand in his.

Jadwa flinched at the unexpected touch, her gaze dropping to their entwined hands. The warmth radiating from his calloused palm was a reminder of the love that bound them.

"Jadu na," he continued, his voice thick with emotion, "I would never do anything to harm you. If I didn't see good in this, I would never have allowed it. There are many things, as your father, I haven't shared to protect you. But you're not a child anymore. You are a wife now."

Jadwa remained silent, her head bowed in defeat. A thousand unspoken questions swirled in her mind.

Baba launched into a lengthy explanation, detailing the years of pressure he'd endured from his family, the countless marriage proposals he'd rejected on her behalf. He recounted the events of the previous day, his voice rising with each sentence. Jadwa listened, absorbing the information but refusing to meet his gaze.

"My dear," he pleaded, his voice softening once more, "I may have scolded you, threatened you even, but I always saw the truth. Like any father, I wanted to strangle that Adam to death myself. But there are standards, respect we must uphold as a family. Some things are better handled quietly."

A sob escaped Jadwa's lips, tears finally spilling over. As if sensing her breaking point, Baba reached out, his touch surprisingly gentle as he stroked her back.

"Baba," she choked out, In that moment, the old Baba she was used to seemed to return. The stern patriarch melted away, replaced by a man filled with concern.

"I am sorry for rushing things, Jadu," he murmured, his voice thick with regret. "But I never meant to get rid of you, don't ever think that way. I had plans for you, until Muhammad came forward."

"As Muslims we should understand relationships before marriage are like walking a tightrope over a river. One wrong step, and the consequences can be dire. Again as Muslims, we believe in the sanctity of marriage. It's a foundation built on trust, respect, and most importantly, Allah's blessing!"
He explained his reasons for pressuring the marriage. The impermanence of these "relationships," he called them, filled him with disgust. He spoke of protecting her, not just from his family's machinations, but from herself.

Jadwa only listened as her tears poured continuously.

"Please," Baba pleaded, his voice heavy with emotion, "give this marriage your all, my child. It's the first and only favor I'll ask from you as a father. Build your own home, your own life, Jadu na. You are my world. Your mother would be so happy if she were here. Every time I see you, I'm reminded of her, the love I have for you is incomparable. Please, be a good wife to Muhammad."
Jadwa's sobs intensified with each word. How could she give her all, as Baba demanded, when her heart was still healing, its fragments barely piecing themselves back together?

His words washed over her, a plea laced with guilt. Jadwa scooted closer, burying her face in his chest. The familiar scent of his cologne, a comforting anchor in her childhood, offered a flicker of solace. Tears soaked his thobe, silent apologies for the rebellion simmering within her.

"Baba, I am so sorry," she croaked, her voice muffled. "Thank you so much," she sniffled, pulling back slightly.

"May Allah bless your union with barakah, a bounty of love, prosperity, and a family that brings you both immense joy. May your children, when they come, be the coolness of your eyes and the source of endless pride"  Baba cupped her face, his eyes shimmering. "Allah ya miki Albarka, Allah ya baki zaman lafiya," he murmured, a prayer for blessings and a peaceful life.

Jadwa whispered a barely audible "Amin" in response. Despite his attempts to hide it, a tear escaped his eye, a silent echo of her own turmoil but quickly cleaned it.

"I spoke with your Ammi," he said, his voice gruff.

A small of a smile played on Jadwa's lips at the mention of Ammi.

"It's up to him," he continued, "if you will be conveyed to your new home immediately or later if he's not fully prepared for the celebrations."

Jadwa absorbed this new information, her eyes widening in realization that she was not only married off so naturally she had to be taken to her husband's house

"Please listen to whatever your husband says, Jadu," Baba said sternly, his fatherly voice returning. "I don't want any rebellion."

Jadwa could only nod, the weight of his expectations settling on her shoulders.

He placed a gentle hand on her head, whispering another prayer before she finally rose, her legs wobbly with the weight of her newfound reality.

Leaving the room, Jadwa felt a strange lightness despite the turmoil within. Acceptance, heavy acceptance, had settled in her gut.

Reaching her Ammi's  room, Jadwa found her in a familiar position, sitting on the prayer mat.  "Come in," Ammi said, her voice soft.

Jadwa shook her head, exhaustion pulling at her limbs. "I am so sleepy," she mumbled, her voice laced with a weariness that went beyond the physical. "I came to say goodnight."

Ammi's knowing gaze met hers in the reflection of the closed door. A silent conversation passed between them, a daughter's pain mirrored in a mother's resignation.

"You should sleep, Jadu," Ammi said, her voice betraying no emotion. "I'll come in later."

With a heavy heart, Jadwa retreated to her room. Sleep, however, remained elusive. The events of the past week replayed in her mind that had irrevocably altered her life.

One decision, a desperate attempt to escape a nightmare, had plunged her into another.
Jadwa walked away, a silent prayer escaping her lips. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for happiness amidst the chaos. Maybe, with time, she could learn to build a new life, a life where acceptance and love, even if forced, could coexist 

The familiar sting of emptiness echoing in the silence after she shut the door. Darkness pressed in as she flicked off the light switch, but sleep remained stubbornly out of reach. Two hours melted away to three, measured by the rhythmic tick of the clock on her nightstand. Her mind was full of chaos, replaying the past week on a relentless loop. How everything had been so normal, so hopeful, just seven days ago. How a single, moment had flipped her world upside down.

For one reason, and one reason only, Jadwa had agreed to this. Her heart, a heavy weight in her chest, hadn't acquiesced so easily. It still ached, a raw wound beneath a fragile scab. But she had no choice.

Muhammad Imran's face materialized in the darkness behind her closed eyelids. The flirting, intense stares, the teases, the stolen glances, the nervous flutter in her stomach when he'd finally confessed his feelings. Everything had felt so full of possibility, a vibrant future for them blooming before her. Then, just like that, it was all somehow gone. A week and a few days had ripped it all away, leaving behind a desolate emptiness for the same person.

She was barely starting to heal, the jagged pieces of her heart slowly fitting back together. How could she possibly give herself fully to this new path laid before her? The trauma of what Adam made her go through and losing Abdulhakeem was still not completely healed, it was an ache that colored her thoughts at times.

Jadwa squeezed her eyes shut, a silent plea escaping her lips. Maybe, just maybe, Imran wouldn't be ready. Maybe the preparations, finding a house, all the endless tasks that stretched before them would create a buffer, a delay for her conveyance.

She wasn't ready. In truth, she doubted she ever would be. But the prayer for the best, a chance to move on, brought peace to her mind. And with that fragile hope, sleep finally claimed her, washing away some of the night's anxieties, leaving behind a heart, if not lighter, then at least yearning for a future less bleak.

EID MUBARAK BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE❤️
My little Eid gift to you is this extremely long chapter.
A little breath of fresh air from all the chaos.