After the lively festivities of Zarah's wushe-wushe the previous night, the girls had danced until exhaustion claimed them. By the time they finally retired to bed, the house had fallen into a hushed stillness. Even Jadwa, always the one to linger in wakefulness, had drifted into a deep sleep. The only time she stirred was during the last quarter of the night, waking to pray Tahajjud. After her prayers, she slipped back into the comfort of sleep until Ammi gently woke her for Fajr.

Now, as the early morning light filtered through the modest curtains, Jadwa, Hannan, and Zarah sat together in the small, cozy living room. Jadwa leaned her head against Hannan's shoulder, while Zarah lay quietly on the carpet, her head nestled in Ammi's lap. No words passed between them; they didn't need words. The silence was weighted with the bittersweet knowledge that this moment, so ordinary yet so profound, was one of their last as sisters under the same roof. In just a few hours, Zarah's Nikkah would mark a new chapter in her life, and this familiar togetherness would shift into something new.

Jadwa's gaze wandered to Ammi and Zarah, her heart swelling with unspoken emotion. Hannan, sensing her sister's thoughts, gently clasped her hand, her own grip steady yet tender. The quiet communion of their hearts was interrupted only by the sound of the door opening. Baba walked in, returning from the mosque, his voice warm as he greeted them with a gentle Salam.

The sisters rose to greet him, wrapping him in warm hugs that spoke of love and longing. He smiled softly, his presence always a source of reassurance. Baba settled on the carpet next to Ammi, and Zarah instinctively shifted, draping the other half of her body across his lap.

For a moment, there was only the sound of their breathing and the faint chirping of birds outside. Then came the first small sniffle, barely audible, from Zarah. Her head was buried against both Ammi and Baba's laps, and though she tried to hold it back, the sniffles soon turned into quiet, shuddering sobs.

No one tried to stop her. Baba, with the steady patience of a father who understood the depth of his daughter's emotions, rested a hand on her back, gently rubbing in soothing circles. Ammi, her own tears now streaking her face, held Zarah closer, her fingers threading through her hair.

Jadwa bit her lip, trying to swallow the lump forming in her throat. She glanced at Hannan, who blinked rapidly, her eyes glistening as she fought to contain her tears. But even in the midst of their sadness, there was an unspoken understanding. This was love in its purest form, the kind that didn't need words to be felt.

The room was heavy with emotion but also filled with the quiet dignity of acceptance. Change was inevitable, but the bond they shared would remain, cutting across the walls of this home and the distances that life might bring them.

Finally, Baba cleared his throat, his voice steady yet laced with emotion.

"My daughters," he began, his tone gentle, and commanding, "it feels like only yesterday when you were all small, running around this house, filling it with laughter, questions, and mischief. Allah blessed me and your mother with daughters who brought light into every corner of our lives."

His eyes rested on Jadwa and Hanan. "Jadwa, Hanan," he said, his voice deepening, "You are already into your new lives and already settled into the responsibilities of marriage and motherhood that is yet to come, so guide your sister in the best ways you can. I have seen you grow, stumble, and rise with strength and faith. You carry our teachings, our values, and most importantly, your trust in Allah into your homes."

He turned to Zarah, his auta, his last to leave. His voice softened, and his lips quivered slightly as he spoke. "Zarah, my little one, today you shall step into a new chapter. This day is as joyous as it is bittersweet for me. I am proud of the woman you've become kind, respectful, loving, cheerful and steadfast in your imaan. Your journey ahead will have its trials, as every marriage does, but remember that Allah is your guide. When there is love and patience between husband and wife, and when both submit to Allah's commands, there is peace, even in hardship."

Zarah lowered her gaze, her tears falling freely now. Her sisters reached for her hands, their fingers intertwining with hers in silent support.

Baba leaned forward slightly, his tone firm, filled with warmth. "My daughters, marriage is a trust, an amanah from Allah. It is not always easy, but it is sacred. As wives, you are not only companions to your husbands but also their partners in faith, their anchors in stormy seas. Zarah, you must bring your sabr (patience), your dua (prayer), and your good character into your new home, just as your mother has done for me."

He paused, his eyes glistening, and then added, "But never forget that you are still my daughter. This home is always open to you, no matter the circumstances. And remember, the greatest strength you have is in turning to Allah. When you are grateful, He increases you; when you are patient, He rewards you." Baba's voice broke and a tear slipped down his eye while Ammi tried to compose herself from sobbing out loud.

The room was filled with a heavy silence, all three daughters crying along their parents; the kind that bore the weight of unspoken emotions. Hanan dabbed at her eyes with the edge of her scarf, while Jadwa blinked rapidly to fight back her tears.

"I want to remind all of you," Baba continued, now addressing all three of his daughters, "to keep your bond as sisters strong. No matter where life takes you, no matter the distance, this bond is a gift from Allah. Be there for each other, in happiness and in sorrow. And always remember your parents in your prayers. Nothing pleases us more than seeing you united and on the path of righteousness."

He stood, his hands trembling slightly, and opened his arms. "Come here, my girls," he said softly.

One by one, they rose and embraced him, their tears flowing freely now. Zarah clung to him the longest, her sobs muffled against his chest.

"May Allah bless all of you," Baba whispered, his voice breaking. "May He grant you peace, happiness, and a strong faith in all that you do."

Ammi, who had been quietly sitting nearby, suddenly rose from her spot. Her face, lined with years of love and sacrifice, was streaked with tears as she stepped forward, her arms trembling. She joined them, pulling her daughters and husband into the embrace, her cries breaking free as she clutched them tightly.

"My daughters," Ammi sobbed, her voice quivering, "you are my treasures, my amanah from Allah. May He bless you all with happiness, patience, and love in your lives. May your homes always be filled with peace, and may you never stray from the path of righteousness. Ya Allah," she whispered, her voice breaking as she raised her hands in supplication, "I've done my part, protect my daughters, guide them, and grant them the best in this life and the Hereafter."

"Allah ya maku Albarka, Allah ya maku Albarka," she repeated making her daughters cling onto her and Baba, their sobs mingling in a symphony of love and gratitude. The hug tightened, as though they were all trying to hold onto the moment, this connection, for just a little while longer.
Finally, Baba broke the silence, his voice choked but determined. "This is not goodbye," he said firmly. "This is the beginning of something new. No matter how far you go, this will always be your home, and we will always be your parents, my babies."

He pulled back, gently wiping the tears from their faces. The room quieted, the sobs subsiding into sniffles and deep breaths. As the stillness settled, Zarah finally spoke, her voice cracking through the silence.

"Baba... is my face swollen?" she asked, her brows furrowed in genuine concern.

Hanan nearly choked on her tears, her sorrow briefly replaced by a burst of uncontrollable laughter. She knew exactly what was coming.

"Baba! I'm the bride, for God's sake!" Zarah groaned dramatically, throwing her hands up. "All my facials will go to waste!"

The room erupted into laughter. "Please, everyone," she continued, her voice climbing to a mock plea. "No more tears! Ammi, shhh! You too, Jadwa—shhh, please!"

Jadwa wiped her face, laughing as she reached for Zarah. Baba and Ammi, who had been caught off guard by her antics, threw their heads back, their laughter shaking the air.

"Baba, warn them!" Zarah demanded, glaring playfully at her family. "No one should make me cry later—I need my wedding pictures to be perfect!"

Ammi shook her head, a fond smile tugging at her lips as she wiped away the remnants of her own tears. "You'll never change, Zarah," she said, her voice soft with affection. "Allah ya shirya ki. May Allah guide you."

They had an early, light breakfast, and by nine a.m, the house was buzzing with activity as everyone prepared the bride—and themselves—for the Nikkah.

Jadwa stayed by Zarah's side, her presence a steady source of calm, until Zarah's makeup was completed. Her face glowed with a soft radiance that perfectly complemented her exquisite, modest Alunoko bridal dress, customized to fit her like a dream. The delicate embroidery and flowing fabric enhanced her natural elegance. Jadwa, with precision and care, layered Zarah with the luxurious perfumes and humras Ameerah had thoughtfully arranged for her.

"Jadwa, go get dressed... the men have already left for the mosque. I'll take it from here," Ameerah said, ushering Jadwa out of the room with a playful grin.

"You look stunning, Zarah. That baby glow has only made you more beautiful," Jadwa teased before Ameerah dramatically blew her a kiss and shut the door in her face.

Jadwa walked briskly to Ammi's room, where the matriarch was seated, getting her makeup done by her glam team. Ammi's hair had been brushed into a sleek low ponytail, and the makeup artist had opted for a natural look, enhancing her graceful features. Her wine-colored lace outfit was tied to perfection by Amanda, who ensured the corset hugged her form just right. For accessories, Sarah had chosen an understated yet elegant floral gold jewelry set paired with a watch and a set of bangles. The scarf, pleated neatly, allowed Ammi's ponytail to cascade down her back.

"Where's the veil?" Ammi asked as she adjusted her earrings.

Jadwa gestured toward the rack, and Ammi retrieved it, dusting it lightly with humra before glancing at Jadwa's outfit with a scrutinizing gaze. Jadwa, pretending not to notice, focused on her reflection in the mirror. Her makeup artist had done an impeccable job—her face appeared flawless yet effortlessly natural, as though she had no product on at all.

Once ready, Jadwa draped the veil over her shoulders and arms, leaving only her front visible. The stylist applauded, snapping pictures for their portfolio as the team helped Jadwa with her shoes.

She returned to find Zarah in the living room, now surrounded by Hanan, Anaya, Ameerah, Asma, Sarah, and Aya. They were all marveling over the radiant bride, swooning and taking endless pictures as the photographer captured Zarah's ethereal beauty. The house began to fill with energy and excitement, cars pulling up outside—a sign that the men had returned from the mosque, and the groom had arrived.

Zarah's face lit up with a nervous excitement that made Hanan nudge her playfully.

"Zarah, you're not nervous, are you?" Hanan teased, her mischievous smile prompting Zarah to roll her eyes.

"Nervous about what?" Zarah shot back confidently.

Ameerah high-fived her. "That's the spirit! He should be the one nervous, not you," she said, cradling her baby with a knowing smirk.

"Such a happy bride," Rahma commented, recording the moment as Zarah broke into a joyful little dance, making everyone laugh.

Moments later, Ahmad entered the living room, greeted by cheers. He hugged Hanan and Jadwa before stepping further in, his face softening as he spotted Ameerah and their baby.

"Hello, darling," he said, kissing his baby's head. "You look beautiful," he added before taking Iman in his arms and moving toward the bride.

"You don't have to show how eager you are to see him," Ahmad teased, shaking his head as he playfully nudged Zarah on the shoulder.

"He's with Baba," Ahmad informed her. "But get ready—he'll be here any moment now."

Zarah's friends erupted into soft laughter as she feigned shyness. Jadwa stepped in, helping Zarah adjust her veil, ensuring it framed her face perfectly. "Keep your head low and wait for him," Jadwa whispered, her voice steady with affection.

When the groom finally entered with his entourage, the room seemed to hold its breath. He was tall, with a warm caramel complexion and a charming smile that immediately drew attention. He greeted everyone with a calm "Salam," his friends echoing him as they followed behind. Through her veil, Zarah's shy smile was unmistakable, and Jadwa stifled a laugh when she noticed her sister's subtle side glance at him.

The groom's grin widened as he approached Zarah. Sitting beside her, he extended his hand, and they exchanged a playful handshake before he pulled her into a hug. Zarah began to lift her head, but he stopped her, turning back to his friends with a grin.

"See? I told you—she's the one head over heels, not me!" he teased, earning laughter from everyone. Zarah smacked his arm lightly, her face red with embarrassment, but the laughter quickly turned into a collective cheer as he finally unveiled her.

He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. Jadwa noticed how Zarah melted into his arms, her eyes fluttering closed as he whispered something softly into her ear.

"I love you," he said, his voice barely audible.

"I love you too," Zarah replied, her voice equally faint but filled with sincerity.

The room erupted into laughter.

"Hard girl, hard girl... look at her now!" Rahma teased, making everyone burst out laughing again.

The groom smirked. "Now she can brag about me to her friends without hiding it," he said, earning a groan from Zarah.

"Please, someone take this man away!" she pleaded dramatically, only making everyone laugh harder.

To Jadwa's surprise, Abubakar—Zarah's new husband was just as bubbly and cheerful as she was, if not more so. The thought filled Jadwa with a quiet sense of peace.

"Let's pray and join the parents downstairs," Sadiq suggested, and the group fell silent as the men offered their blessings for the couple.

When the prayers concluded, the men headed downstairs for their photo session. Baba soon called the bride and groom to join the rest of the family for their portraits.

Zarah and Abubakar stepped into the private living room, their footsteps soft against the plush carpet. Ameerah and Hanan followed closely behind them, while Jadwa lingered at the back, her presence almost ghost-like.

As they entered, Jadwa's gaze swept across the room. Seated comfortably were familiar faces—Ammi, Baba, Ameer, Ahmad, and Imran. The moment her eyes fell on him, her heart skipped a beat, and she quickly looked away, fixing her focus on the floor. She followed Hanan's lead, settling on the carpet behind the couple. She greeted Baba softly, her voice barely audible, while Jadwa managed a small smile in Ameer's direction before her attention returned to the carpet beneath her.

Baba began speaking, his deep, measured tone commanding the room. "Abubakar, Alhamdulillah, today my family is complete. You have joined my sons in fulfilling this family, and every responsibility I've carried for these girls is now an amanah placed in your hands."

Jadwa's mind wandered as Baba's nasiha continued. The words seemed to fade into the background as her whole body tensed, acutely aware of his gaze on her. Imran. He sat directly across from her, relaxed on the sofa while she sat rigidly on the carpet. She dared not look up, though her chest ached with the weight of her unspoken thoughts.

If only I could confront him. If only he would tell me the truth. Assure me that Alina doesn't exist, that Khayrah's presence is not what it seems. Give me something anything to quiet this storm inside me.

Baba's voice wove through the room, reaching its conclusion in a melodious prayer for the couple. Jadwa raised her hands mechanically, joining the others in dua, though her heart was elsewhere. When the prayer ended, the family gathered for pictures, posing around the bride and groom. Jadwa remained on edge, every fiber of her being alert to Imran's presence. She could feel his gaze lingering, unrelenting, as though it pinned her in place.

Before anyone could pull her into an awkward situation with him, she seized the chance to slip away. She excused herself quietly and retreated upstairs to retrieve her phone. The moment she entered the room, she took a deep breath, hoping the solitude would calm her nerves. But when she turned to go back downstairs, the sight that greeted her sent her heart crashing into her chest.

Imran stood at the base of the stairs, talking to Anaya and Rahma. His stance was composed and calm, his aura commanding even before she saw his face. As though sensing her approach, he turned around, and their eyes locked for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Anaya and Rahma quickly vanished into the crowd, leaving Jadwa and Imran alone in a silent, charged moment.

He was dressed in a dark blue babban riga that contrasted sharply with his luminous eyes. The intensity in his gaze made her feel unsteady, but she forced herself to maintain her composure, lifting her chin as if to shield herself.

"Jadwa," he called, his voice soft and calm, almost like the man he used to be, the man who had once looked at her as if she were the center of his world. The memory of that tenderness stirred something deep within her, but it was quickly overtaken by the bitterness of imagining him looking at another woman the same way.

She lowered her gaze to the polished wood of the stairs, refusing to acknowledge him. Her steps were steady, purposeful, as she brushed past him and went straight to her friends. She grabbed a mocktail, hoping its coolness would ease the raw ache in her throat. For a brief moment, she let herself relax, blending into the lively chatter of the room.

But peace was fleeting. Ahmad appeared by her side, his voice low as he leaned in to speak. "Your husband is calling you," he said, his words striking her like a sudden jolt.

She blinked, her expression blank. "Where?" she asked softly.

"He's by the front door," Ahmad replied, tilting his head toward the entrance.

Jadwa nodded slowly, masking the storm inside her as she prepared to face what awaited her.

She dragged her legs, but to the back door and up the stairs to the bedroom, she refused to meet him. She started by taking off her jewelry and zipping herself out of the dress, and in the middle of undoing the corset, Sarah joined her.

"Jadwa, your husband has been waiting for you," she said, prompting Jadwa to look away.

"Please tell him I'm taking a shower." Jadwa replied, tugging at the strings of the corset.

Sarah looked at her with the most concerned and confused look on her face.

"Pleaseeee!" Jadwa pleaded, her eyes brimming with tears. She looked away before the first drop fell on her cheek.

"Okay darling take your time, I'll tell him that." Sarah said, leaving Jadwa alone in the room.

Jadwa headed straight to the bathroom, refusing to let herself to cry over him and the entire situation. She hardened her resolve, unwilling to allow herself to give into the temptation of going to meet him. It wasn't easy for her, avoiding him. She missed him so much it physically hurt her, and in the moment, she was aching with the pain of not being with him, as she would've been in the past. The amount of days she had spent without hearing his voice was the highest peak of torture for her. It was agonizing in the worst way she could ever imagine.

As she gently washed off her makeup, Rahma's voice came calling her name and Jadwa answered from the bathroom, already slipping into a soft robe. She prayed with all her heart it wasn't him sending for her again.

"Jadu," Rahma said, entering the room and holding up two brown paper bags.
"Ya Muhammad sent me," she said, her voice gentle, "He said I should give you this."

Jadwa accepted the bags with slight hesitation, her gaze lingering on Rahma's face.

"It's money for spraying later," Rahma explained with a warm smile, and Jadwa's lips formed a small 'O' of surprise. "This one is for you," she continued, pointing to the second bag, "And he said you should share this for me, Lily and Asma, Sarah, and Aya." Jadwa nodded slowly, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Oh... okay, tohm, I'll do that InshaAllah. But you can take yours and share it," Jadwa insisted, offering the bag back.

"You are the one in that position," Rahma chuckled, gently declining. "Besides," she added playfully, "It wouldn't be right for me to interfere."

A warm smile played on Jadwa's lips. "Are you enjoying your day?" she asked, changing the subject.

"I love it so much," Rahma replied, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Why are you undressed already?" she inquired, her brow furrowed with concern.

"I have a bit of a headache," Jadwa confessed, "And I didn't get much sleep last night. I want to enjoy the dinner properly, so I'm going to try and get some rest before the guests start arriving in full force."

Rahma nodded in understanding. "I'll turn off the lights on my way out," she said softly, pulling a small bottle of panadol from her bag and handing it to Jadwa. "Please take it." She blew Jadwa a gentle kiss and slipped out of the room, leaving her to rest.

Jadwa carefully set the money aside, then slipped beneath the cool sheets of the duvet. For the next four hours, she lay there, feigning sleep, despite the constant stream of people entering and exiting the room. Finally, Ameerah's voice broke through the haze. "Jadu, get ready! The glam team is here!"

•••

Muhammad's POV is truly calling👀👀👀