'Are you sure this is enough?' Nur places the dishes on the table and turns to Dylan, 'I mean they are coming for the first time.'

'No, it is sufficient. Don't worry,' Dylan adjusts his tie, 'I wanted to invite him to a hotel but he urged to visit the home.' Nur fidgets with the fabric of her red headscarf she is wearing over her previous yellow dress. 'Are you nervous?'

'No,' Nur chokes. 'Not at all. It's just my heart that is beating pretty fast and my hands are shaking and there's is a funny feeling in my stomach, but the rest is fine.'

Dylan chuckles and hold her hand. 'You seriously have to worry about nothing. They are good, I promise.'

'Right,' Nur continues her fidgeting. The doorbell rings and Dylan receives the guest while Nur stays behind in the guest room and straightens her dress. She takes a deep breath and braces herself. When she hears the clicks of shoes, she takes another breath. No need to be nervous. Voices and laughs echo in the hallway and finally, they make it to the guest room.

She looks at Dylan first who smiles and stands beside Nur. The other man enters and Nur sucks in her breath as that man's smile and laugh drowns the moment he lands his eyes on her. Another woman follows him and her smile falters too. 'Daniel, Rose, meet my lovely wife, Nur Westbrook,' though Nur's heart flutters as he pronounces her Westbrook proudly, something nudges at Nur that she is not yet allowed to let the happiness engulf her. 'Nur, Danial and Rose.'

Nur nods but they both pass an uncertain look to each other instead and an unprecedented feeling grows in her. The man is as tall as Dylan. His personality matches his but obviously, Dylan wins the features battle. Daniel has brunette hair that are shaved from the sides and the top of his hair are short. His brown cat eyes bear into the soul of Nur. Following a bump down his nose, his full lips are set in straight line void of any emotion. His cheek bones are defined but his his jawline is somewhere lost in the folds of his skin and the proud tilt of his chin.

Beside him, a prestigious lady stands whose body mannequins a red body con dress. Her eyes brown eyes display confusion yet her red painted lips smile. Her blonde bangs cover her forehead and the rest of her hair are cascading down to her mid-back in alluring waves. 'Dylan, mate, a word?' Daniel eye's Dylan who gives his wife an uneasy look, follows Daniel out nevertheless. Meanwhile, Rose rolls her eyes. 'These men won't learn,' She outstretches her hand, 'Sorry for this ... how are you?'

'Very well,' Nur shakes her soft hands and it is the gentleness of her hands that remind her of her own harshness of the touch. 'Please, have a seat. You might be hungry?'

'No, let's wait for them. Shall we?' She sits on the couch instead and deliberately crosses her smooth legs over the other. It is her actions, her decency, her delicacy that speak to Nur of how unfit she is for Dylan. She don't want to feel like this, but she is unable to help it. It is the second day of their wedding and she is already feeling insecure. 'So, tell me about you two. How did you two met?'

Nur opens her mouth to narrate the history but closes it as soon as she realises the facts; she worked for Dylan, he fired her and then showed some interest in her. Not  the best story it is but what else can she say? Tell them about her background? Apart from a mother who left her for her lazy and useless brother, what does she even have to narrate? As Nur is battling with herself, Rose coughs roughly. 'Are you okay? Would you like some water?'

Rose nods and Nur rushes to the table to pour some water only she realises she forgot to serve the water. While she walks to the kitchen passing through the hallway, to retrieve some water, she overhears Dylan and Daniel's conversation. 'But she is Muslim. We're you out of your mind? You could've had anyone. Why a Muslim? Do you even perceive what are they?'

'Not all Muslims are terrorists,' Dylan defends. 'And she is my wife now. Don't you dare create any obstacles in this dinner or even let any rude word escape from your lips for her.'

'I can't sit with a terrorist. Come on man, knock some sense in yourself. You are a billionaire, you could have anyone.'

'Not her,' He says. 'Anyone but her.'

'I can't have dinner with her. I can't even bear her. You are out of your mind but I am not.'

'Very well then,' Nur heard Dylan say. 'The door's that way. Leave if you want you, but you are not allowed to judge my wife by the piece of fabric she wears on her head.'

'Serious?'

Even though Nur could not see them, but she was able to imagine a stern expression on Dylan's face. The expression that consists of stone cold grey eyes, one eyebrow mildly raised, his lips drawn in a line, a slight yet intimate tilt of his head and his jaw clenched.

'Dead serious.'

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