The first time I respected you was on our wedding night.

My younger brother drove us from the reception hall to the hotel. The ride was filled with pretentiously predictable innuendos that boys generally find amusing. I swear, I felt the power of your blush from where I was sitting.

We entered the lobby and you were beaming at the attention your wedding gown heralded. The diamonds and crystals were quite a stunning combination. Too bad I didn't mention that to you. We reached our room and I dreaded opening the door. I just knew my friends found the room even with the false booking to throw them off the trail.

And lo and behold! I was right...

By the time we were done cleaning up their amateurish mess, we were exhausted.  Then it just became awkward. We didn't really know each other. I saw you about four times then at the proposal. We spoke on the phone for a bit but that wasn't anything special. I saw you next at the engagement and finally at the wedding.

Your yawning almost killed my self-esteem. I was boring you. I could have almost kicked myself for what I did next but it had to be done. Like my girlfriend had said, "be straight and be mean."
"Listen," I stopped you half-yawn, "I don't like you but I married you. I have a girlfriend and you were a means to an end to get my parents off my back:" God, I almost cringed at that line but that would have ruined the "be mean" mantra my girlfriend drilled into my head.

You looked confused (understatement) for a little bit. And then you looked as if you were contemplating something. "Okay," you nodded, "but just remember, you married me. Not her. Keep that in mind when she breaks up with you." And then you snatched up your pyjamas from your bag and walked into the bathroom.

You walked back out, got into bed and switched off your lampshade. "Could you try and be quiet. I'm really tired." Then you stole all my pillows and went to sleep.

I sat on that couch just thinking about what you did and I respected you for taking things in your stride... so to say.

The first time I felt sorry for you was when we were on our 'honeymoon.'

You figured that the trip must have cost quite a bit so why bother wasting it. You took of your wedding ring and just like that; we changed from newlyweds into a couple of tourists. We went to the beach and the museum and did all the silly things they had to offer. We even found some halaal restaurants. What we didn't know was that boiled chicken was the way to go in that country... and our tummies were clearly not used to it. Or rather yours than mines.

You were throwing up for an entire day!

I remember rushing out and buying you some tablets because I was so worried that your stomach would end up coming out your mouth. The prospect of all that blood just creeped me out. You walked out of the bathroom, completely exhausted and sweaty beyond belief, and your eyes fell on that little medicine box.

I think I saw a hint of a smile. It would be a long while before I would see that smile again.

The first time you made my heart stop was when I tripped and bashed my face into the wall (although I might be mistaken in this theory and my crumbling face resulted in the momentous pause of my heart).

I heard you chuckling very softly. You had your lips pursed and your face was going an unhealthy shade of purple to keep in the giggles. You quickly ran into the room where I heard the explosion of laughter erupt from your mouth... sadistic little cow.

The first time I found myself attracted to you was at about 4 in the morning.

I needed the bathroom SO badly. I sleepily stumbled into the bathroom only to be met with the sight of you in a vest. You had your pyjama pants rolled up to your knees and your one leg was propped against the basin. I heard the unmistakable sound of a wax strip being ripped out. You were surrounded by hair-filled wax strips and yet I couldn't be disgusted. I was too entranced by the birthmark on your back. I just couldn't stop staring at you.

I think I even emasculated myself when I gave a little sigh. You turned around with a shocked looked plastered over your face and slapped a wax strip on my face.

I lost a quarter of my eyebrow that day... but it was worth it.

The first time I wanted to hug you was when I came home from work and saw you crying like a baby amongst all your papers.

Your boss was being an absolute nightmare and you started taking the flack for the new recruit's mishaps. You were losing clients left, right and center. I couldn't help myself when I joined you on the floor and just hugged you. I think we must have stayed that way for about half an hour. Then my girlfriend messaged me and you promptly disengaged yourself.

I liked doing that.

The first time you made me hate myself was when my girlfriend broke up with me.

She asked me to meet her at some coffee shop where she broke the news. She didn't care that my parents would never have approved of her. And that she was my girlfriend and not my wife. Those were your words, weren't they? She wanted me to divorce you. I didn't know what to do. I summed it up to confusion but she took my silence for "break up." So she got up and left.

I wasn't upset that she left but she knocked my ego down a couple flights.

I came home and you were walking towards the kitchen. I told you that she broke up with me and all you said was "that's sad" and tried to pass me.

I became so angry but I can't for the life of me fathom the reason. It was that damned pride of mine. I hated how you were right and I just expected you say something else. I backed you up against the wall and I stepped right into your space. I didn't touch you. My hands were behind my back. I didn't want to hurt you but I wanted you to just say something. So I looked at you and I willed you to say something but you wouldn't.

It was only then that I saw you shaking. You were scared that I was going to hurt you. You tried to express the anger on your face but the shaking spoilt the effect.

You were scared of me.

I backed off and walked away.

My mum always said that a husband and wife needed to be comfortable around each other. You can't be comfortable if you're scared of me.

I'm so sorry.

The first time you made me truly smile was a week later.

You avoided me after that little incident. I wanted to tell you that I was sorry but I couldn't bring myself to do it. So I came home early one afternoon and I wanted to cook for you. You always cooked for me when you came home and left it in the fridge for me to find.

And so I cooked. And it looked pretty damned good if I say so myself. You walked into the kitchen that evening and just stopped. Then you stared for a while. I had the dishes all washed, the tiles mopped and the table set.

You actually smiled at me.

We sat down to eat and you took a huge bite. Your praises of the food seemed a bit forced. Then I saw your throat going red. The red travelled up your cheeks, to your nose and even touched the tips of your ears. You started sniffing and your eyes started to water. Was my food that good?

I tasted it and I died.

Honestly, my heart just collapsed for a second. I gulped down about half a jug of water. Apparently cleaning up that paprika bottle in the food was a bad idea. You first laughed at me dying before (finally!) you got up and grabbed the mayonnaise and tomato sauce bottles.

I think you emptied out half of each but it was finally edible. And pretty good at that.

We spoke that night, really spoke, for the first time too.

The first time I ever wanted to just touch you was on our 9 month anniversary.

We shared a bed because it was kind of huge and there was no real chance of meeting halfway through. It would also look pretty strange if people came to visit and saw two separate rooms. I have no clue as to what I dreamt that night but I think I steamrolled into you and pushed you off the bed. I don't think you fully comprehended what actually happened. Your eyes were wide open and you were breathing like you ran a marathon. Finally, the pain registered on your face.

I climbed off the bed and picked you up. I was checking for damages but my hands just didn't seem to want to move from your arms. I didn't even realise how stubborn they were being. You broke that little spiel when you chuckled. "A little warning would be nice next time," you chided.

The first time we really argued was when you were mopping the floors and I decided to walk through a wet patch.

You started shouting and accused me of doing it every day. I became defensive and told you that you should be grateful that I swept and maybe that's more than most men do. And then I childishly ended with a "Get over it!" You actually growled; this full out feral growl. Then you made a very dramatic exit.

That night I woke you up at 3 in the morning to apologise. You said "okay" and went back to sleep.

The first time I ever wanted to kiss you was at the start of the first fast in Ramadhan.

You woke me up at 4 in the morning. Your eyes were all red and puffy and your hair had seen better days. Your only means of transport was this pathetic shuffle. I'm not saying I looked much better... but I'm just saying. You were practically slurping up your cereal when my sleep ridden brain decided it wanted me to kiss you. I didn't comply to its orders though.

The first time you kissed me was on Eid day at the end of Ramadhan.

I came back from the Eid prayers and we had to rush to your mum's for breakfast. We were almost out the door when you stopped me to give me a quick peck on the cheek. Then you ran out to the car.

Your uncle kept on asking me what was wrong and why was my face so red. He recommended I see the doctor immediately.

The first time I held your hands was when we were in a shopping mall.

Your hair just wouln't stay under your scarf and you had to constantly tuck it in. we walked passed some girls with their fancy hair and tight jeans. We knew them. Their fathers attended the Masjid with me. They gave you the strangest look and I could feel your discomfort.

I gripped your hand in mines and you looked at me. I finally felt your hand close around mines. I noticed the little tilt of your lips that matched mines.

The first time I kissed you was on my birthday.

You didn't know what present to buy so you cooked for me. You started that 'chicken tradition'. You made that exact chicken I cooked for you. You even made it strong enough to give me a premature ulcer. You waited till my ears burnt clear off my face before you spared me with that jar of mayonnaise.

And thus the chicken tradition was born. Every birthday, anniversary and huge fight warranted the 'chicken'.

You made custard and jelly for dessert and made me the happiest man on Earth. You were washing the dishes and I was drying them when you squirted the dishwashing liquid on your face by mistake. You made a sound reminiscent of a dying chicken. I grabbed your face and started wiping off the liquid. I think you realised it before me that I was touching your face.

I couldn't stop myself. I leant towards you and pressed my lips against yours. You closed your eyes and lightly kissed me back.

And just like that; it stopped. Your face was bright red and you had the biggest grin on your face. And then we finished up the dishes.

The first time I told you that I loved you was about a year later.

I walked into the house and I heard your sandals from the other side of the house. You came running towards me and your eyes were all huge and frantic. "I'm pregnant! " Your happiness just flowed right onto your face and you glowed with it.

I felt this thing inside of me and I tugged you towards me and told you that I loved you. You started crying these huge happy tears and I think I felt a few of my own tears too... not that you noticed.

We had chicken that night too.

The first time my blood froze was when the phone rang and your mother told me that you were in an accident.

She was nearly hysterical when she told me that your car was a right-off and they had to pry you out of the car. I just ran out of the office. My boss understood when he showed up at the hospital. I made it there in 10 minutes and must have broken every traffic rule imaginable.

I was directed to the trauma unit where your parents told me that you were rushed to the operating room. We waited for 3 hours before you came out of theater.

The first time I felt completely useless was when the doctor told me that the baby had died. He had 3 months before he would have been born. I knew that you would be completely crushed.

We were so excited even though your bladder was like an old lady's, you had an appetite of a baby rhino and you cried when I told you that the food was nice. But our Lord knows best. The world just was not ready for our epic baby. I didn't know how I would tell you but I knew that I would never leave you when you needed me.

The first time I knew that I was truly in love with you was when you finally opened your eyes.

I was there for 3 days and I left your side only to shower. My back could rival an old man's.

But you opened your eyes and you smiled at me. And just like that... it was better.

A/N: Hey guys :) please check out All The Things You Never Knew if you're curious about her side of the story.