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The day had finally arrived. My last day before heading back to school. I was counting down the hours, itching to get on that plane and leave behind all the wedding drama and everything that came with it. Part of me was relieved—school meant I could escape the constant questions about marriage, the constant whispers, and the expectations from my family. I could just breathe again.

But at the same time, there was this nagging feeling in my chest, something I couldn't quite place. Was it guilt? Was it fear? I didn't know. It was just there, lurking, like a shadow that followed me wherever I went. Maybe it was because I knew that no matter how far I went, the wedding plans would follow me, hovering like a cloud.

I sat on my bed, my laptop open, but I wasn't really watching Game of Thrones—my favorite series. My mind kept wandering back to Muhammad. The whole thing with him still felt like a puzzle I couldn't figure out. We'd been talking more lately, and it was nice, but it also felt a little... off. Like there was some unspoken tension between us, and I didn't know how to fix it.

I was just trying to push all the thoughts aside when I heard a knock on my door.

"Come in," I called out, expecting it to be one of my siblings.

The door creaked open, and there she was—Ni'imah. Of course, Ni'imah. The last person I expected to see right now.

"Hey, sister-in-law!" she greeted me, a wide grin stretching across her face.

I froze, unsure of how to respond. It had been a while since we'd really talked, and I wasn't sure if I was ready for whatever she had to say. But I quickly masked my surprise with a smile.

"Hi Ni'imah, how are you doing?" I asked, trying to sound casual as I closed my laptop and set it aside.

"Fine, Alhamdulillah, how are you?" she replied, sitting down at the edge of my bed like she owned the place.

"I'm fine too," I said, looking at her but not really seeing her. I was too focused on the million thoughts swirling in my mind. I couldn't get comfortable, not with the way things were between Muhammad and me.

"So," I said, trying to steer the conversation away from anything personal, "Ya kike? How's your mom and everyone?"

"They're all fine, Alhamdulillah," she answered, a smile tugging at her lips. "But you know, you're avoiding me, right?" She pouted teasingly.

"Kin share ni kwana biyu fah," she added, a playful jab at the fact that we hadn't spent much time together lately.

I raised an eyebrow. "Ni na isa? And besides, you're the one who share-d me!" I replied, pretending to be annoyed, but secretly I was glad to see her. She had a way of making things feel a little lighter, even though I knew she was probably here to bring up Muhammad.

She laughed. "If you say so," she said with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Well, I came to say goodbye. Ibty told me you're heading back to school tomorrow, Inshallah."

"Yeah," I said, my voice catching slightly. "Summer break ended pretty fast, though."

"It really has," she agreed, sounding almost wistful. "I'm also going back soon, Inshallah, in a week or two."

I nodded, wondering if I'd be able to avoid everyone's expectations while I was at school. "You're at De Montfort Uni, right?" I asked, trying to focus on the conversation.

Ni'imah nodded. "Yeah. What about you?"

"Manchester Metropolitan Uni," I replied, the thought of returning to school giving me a little bit of relief. At least there, I could focus on my studies and have a semblance of normalcy again.

Ni'imah's eyes lit up. "I can't wait to go back already. You, Ibty, and I are going to have so much fun!" she said, practically bouncing on the bed with excitement.

I chuckled, feeling a little lighter in that moment. "We sure are," I said, although my thoughts were still clouded with uncertainty.

We continued to chat for a while, talking about life and school, but in the back of my mind, I kept thinking about Muhammad. Was this marriage really happening? And if so, what was going to happen between us?

"Well, I should get going," Ni'imah said after a while, checking her watch. "My ride's here."

I stood up and grabbed a veil, throwing it over my head. I didn't feel like dressing up, but I wasn't about to let Ni'imah leave without saying goodbye properly.

We walked to Mammy's room first, and Ni'imah said her goodbyes to her before we headed outside. The moment we stepped out, I saw a sleek black Mercedes Benz parked in the driveway. I didn't think much of it at first, but then Ni'imah called out, "Ya Muhammad, I brought your love for you."

My heart skipped a beat. Wait, what?

I looked at her, stunned. "Ni'imah, this isn't your driver."

She just smiled, practically glowing with amusement.

I felt a knot tighten in my stomach as I turned to face Muhammad, who was sitting inside the car, waiting for us.

"Layla," he called, his voice soft and unexpectedly familiar.

"Yeah?" I responded, my voice catching in my throat. I couldn't help the nervous flutter in my chest.

"How are you doing?" he asked, his smile gentle but searching. It felt like he was trying to reach through the surface to find the real me.

"Fine, Alhamdulillah, and you?" I replied, avoiding his gaze, not wanting him to see the conflict in my eyes.

"Good, Alhamdulillah," he said, his tone warm, but the silence between us felt thick.

There was an uncomfortable pause, and I wondered why I couldn't just walk away. But I knew Ni'imah was watching from the car, so I had to hold it together.

"Why didn't you tell me you were leaving tomorrow?" he asked, breaking the silence with a question that made me feel guilty.

"I thought you knew," I said quickly, trying to play it off, but I knew it was a weak excuse.

"But even if I knew, you should have told me," he said, his voice soft but firm. It was as if he was holding onto something that I wasn't ready to acknowledge.

I bit my lip, not wanting to have this conversation. "It slipped my mind," I said, the words sounding hollow even to me. "I've been so busy with everything going on."

Muhammad just nodded, his eyes not leaving mine. "It's okay," he said, though I could hear the disappointment in his voice.

"What flight are you taking?" he asked, changing the subject, but I could tell the tension was still there.

"BA," I replied, relieved the conversation was moving on, but still uneasy.

"Okay then," he said with a small smile. "You should probably head back inside. We'll talk later, Inshallah."

"Good night," I said, my voice quieter than I intended, and I turned to walk away.

"Okay, bye," he said with a sigh as he closed the door behind him.

I waved at Ni'imah before they drove off, feeling a strange mix of sadness and relief. It was like everything I had been avoiding had suddenly come rushing back.

I walked back inside, trying to shake off the feeling that something was changing between us. It wasn't that I didn't want to get to know him, but I wasn't sure I was ready for what that might mean.

When I entered the living room, Norah and Nabeel were sitting together, watching a football match. I rolled my eyes. Freaks, I thought to myself, but I didn't have the energy to join them. Instead, I walked to Mammy's room, where I found her on her prayer mat, reciting the Quran.

I waited quietly until she finished, then lay down on my bed, the weight of everything finally hitting me.

"Neyin var? (What's wrong?)" Mammy asked, her voice soft as she set her prayer beads aside and looked at me.

"Anne, I was just wondering why I'm still getting married at 20," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper.

Mammy gave me a long, thoughtful look. "We've talked about this before, Leyla'm," she said gently. "It's your father's decision, not mine. And you know Muhammad is a good guy. He'll take care of you."

I rolled my eyes, the words sounding like they were from a script I'd heard a thousand times before. "It's not about him being a good guy, Mammy," I said, the frustration bubbling to the surface. "It's about me, and what I want."

She looked at me with understanding, but her words were always the same. "Muhammad will take care of you," she repeated. "Trust me."

I sighed, knowing she meant well, but I just wasn't sure anymore. Was this really what I wanted? Was I really ready for this?

We talked for a while longer, but I didn't feel any clearer about the situation. Eventually, I excused myself to go to bed. I had an early flight tomorrow, and I needed to rest.

Once in my room, I picked up

my phone, hoping to distract myself from the whirlwind of emotions. I saw a message from an unknown number on WhatsApp.

Unknown: Hey

Leyla: Hi

Unknown: How are you?

Leyla: I'm fine, Alhamdulillah. You?

Unknown: I'm good, Alhamdulillah.

Leyla: Please, who is this? 😅

Unknown: Bad fiancée, you don't even have your fiancé's number?

I froze. My heart skipped a beat. It was him.

Leyla: Muhammadu 😁 who says I don't? I do have your number in my other phone.

Unknown: Don't call me Muhammadu 😑 and are you sure?

I quickly saved the number as "Mr. Moh."

Leyla: Harah! But I like the name 😂

Mr. Moh: Okay then, Hafsatu 😉

Leyla: Okay, please don't call me that name 😣 I really hate it.

Mr. Moh: Then you should not call me Muhammadu too.

Leyla: Okay, Muhammad 😅

Mr. Moh: 👍

Leyla: Listen, I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was leaving tomorrow.

Mr. Moh: It's okay, it's no big deal! Besides, I'm going there next week.

We chatted for a while longer, but I could feel myself being pulled in two different directions. Part of me felt relieved to talk to him, but another part of me felt like I was getting too close too soon.

I lay down in bed, my thoughts racing. Tomorrow was going to be a long, emotional day, but I was ready to leave. At least for now, I had an excuse to escape. But I couldn't shake the feeling that the future was already here, and there was no running from it.

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