40. 𝑻𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒔 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒓𝒚, 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒔 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒓𝒚

"Tough girls don't cry, tough girls don't cry," she chanted softly to herself, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill.

I stood behind her, carefully zipping up her white, flowing dress. The fabric glided smoothly under my fingers, and as I stepped back, I couldn't help but admire the stunning woman in front of me. Ayesha looked absolutely breathtaking. I was so used to seeing her in her usual tomboy-ish outfits that this transformation felt almost surreal. She was glowing, radiating a beauty that was undeniable.

She took in a shaky breath, staring at her reflection in the mirror as if she couldn't quite believe what she was seeing. The disbelief in her eyes was almost as powerful as the beauty staring back at her.

"You look so beautiful, bestie," I said softly, my voice filled with pride and admiration.

"I do, don't I?" she replied, her excitement bubbling over as she turned to face me. She grabbed my hands, and before I knew it, she was jumping up and down with pure joy. I tried to hold back, but her infectious energy got the better of me, and soon we were both jumping and squealing like little kids, caught up in the joy of the moment.

"SubhanaAllah! What on earth is—" The bedroom door creaked open, and we froze, our bouncing abruptly halted as Aunt Zainab walked in, her expression a mix of confusion and surprise.

She took a few steps inside, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of Ayesha. Her hands flew to her mouth in shock, tears welling up in her eyes as she approached her daughter with open arms. She pulled her down for a hug before pulling away and placing her hands on Ayesha's shoulders.

"Anti jameelah," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "You're so beautiful, my baby. So, so beautiful. MashaaAllah!"

"Thank you, Mommy," Ayesha responded, her own smile a bit breathless from the excitement and emotion.

Aunt Zainab, however, quickly noticed our flushed faces and slightly labored breathing. "Why are you both breathless?" she asked, her confusion evident as she glanced between us.

"We saw a spider," I blurted out, the first excuse that popped into my head. The last thing I wanted was for her to know we'd been jumping around like schoolgirls just moments before.

She looked at me for a moment, seeming to weigh my answer, before finally nodding in acceptance. Then, turning back to Ayesha, her tone shifted to one of excitement. "It's time to go, habibti. We're all waiting downstairs for you."

"We'll be right down, Aunt," I assured her with a smile as she gave us one last look of affection before leaving the room, gently closing the door behind her.

"Ready?" I asked, as I picked up my niqab and secured it around my head. I moved around the room, gathering the last few things we'd need—a mini hand fan, sandals, and a few other essentials.

"My husband is waiting for me, chop chop!" Ayesha said, her voice brimming with anticipation.

Well, that answered my question.

~

We had left the mosque about thirty minutes ago and were now waiting for Ayesha and Saleem to arrive for the Walima to begin. It was shaping up to be an even bigger crowd than mine had been, but knowing Ayesha's extroverted nature, I was sure she wouldn't mind. In fact, it felt more like a family reunion with the number of relatives I'd already met.

I glanced over at Zayd, who was currently in the hands of one of my younger cousins. She was playing with him on her lap, his giggles filling the room. The sight warmed my heart.

On the other side of the living room, I spotted Hassan deep in conversation with some of my boy cousins and a few of Saleem's friends. It was nice seeing everyone so relaxed and enjoying themselves.

Noticing it was time for Zayd's diaper change, I walked over and gently picked him up. As I did, I noticed Hassan making his way toward us with a knowing smile. I couldn't help but laugh, already guessing what he was about to say.

"Nappy change?" he asked, grinning as he reached for Zayd. I'd long given up trying to get him to call it a diaper, so I just went with it.

"Yes. You want to do it?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer. It was one of the things I loved most about Hassan—his eagerness to be involved in every aspect of our baby's life. He really was perfect in every way.

He nodded, and I led the way to Ayesha's bedroom. Pulling out the key, I unlocked the door and walked toward the bathroom where Zayd's bag was already set on the counter. I laid out his changing mat and all the supplies Hassan would need, then stepped aside to let him take over.

I stood quietly, my smile growing as I watched Hassan carefully clean up our baby. Every movement was gentle, his touch soft and precise. I couldn't help but notice the small, contented smile playing on his lips as he worked, completely absorbed in the task of caring for our son. It was one of those moments that made my heart swell with love and gratitude, a perfect snapshot of the man I married.

"Stop creepily smiling at our son," I teased him, my tone playful.

"Mind your business, lady," he shot back with a grin, glancing up at me briefly before returning to his task.

I chuckled softly, leaning against the doorframe, completely lost in the sweetness of the moment.

~

We all gathered in the hallway, the air thick with anticipation as we eagerly waited for the door to open. Ayesha and her husband had finally arrived at the reception, and the excitement was palpable. No one knew why they took so long, but I made a mental note to drill her on that later.

The door creaked open, and the newlyweds appeared, instantly greeted by a chorus of cheers and applause. The men's voices echoed through the hallway as they shouted, "Allahuma Barikk," their blessings adding to the joyous atmosphere.

Ayesha's cheeks were flushed with a mix of excitement and shyness, her wide smile lighting up the room. Saleem stood beside her, a shy smile on his face as he embraced people, clearly overwhelmed by the warm welcome.

As Ayesha started to walk forward, she accidentally stepped on her dress. The fabric caught under her foot, causing her to stumble forward with a startled screech. A collective gasp filled the room, horror flashing through everyone's eyes as we watched her trip. But before she could hit the ground, Saleem's quick instincts kicked in. He caught her just in time, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back to safety.

Saleem held her tightly as he helped her regain her balance. Ayesha, ever the dramatic one, placed a hand on her forehead like a damsel in distress and quipped, "My husband in shining armor."

The room erupted into laughter and cheers, the tension of the moment melting away in an instant. I glanced over at Aunt Zainab, who chuckled softly as she looked up at the ceiling, probably thanking the heavens for Saleem's quick reflexes. As Ayesha tried to regain her composure, Saleem whispered something in her ear that made her giggle even more.

My Uncle Dawud, Ayesha's dad, stepped forward with a warm smile, taking her arm to guide her carefully into the house, making sure she didn't have another mishap.

I trailed closely behind Ayesha and Uncle, our other cousins gathering around us like an excited flock. The room buzzed with laughter and chatter, everyone still high on the energy from the near-fall incident. I waited until Ayesha was comfortably seated and Uncle left before I slid in next to her, wrapping my arms around her in a tight hug, feeling her relax into me.

"Next time, try not to attack the floor, okay?" I teased, my voice light and playful. Ayesha's face flushed, a mix of embarrassment and amusement dancing in her eyes. She opened her mouth to respond, but I cut her off with a grin.

"Assalamu alaikum, Mrs. Ayesha Abdul Ali," I said, leaning in closer to her ear, drawing out the words in a sing-song tone.

She giggled, the sound infectious, and responded with a bright, "Wa alaikum salam" Then she lifted her hand, showcasing a sparkling ring that I was sure hadn't been there before.

My eyes widened, and a collective gasp echoed around us as our cousins leaned in, eager to get a closer look. The ring was absolutely stunning—a perfect balance of elegance and boldness, just like Ayesha. The large, radiant diamond caught the light in a way that made it seem to sparkle from within, surrounded by a delicate band of smaller diamonds. It was definitely a looker, and so undeniably Ayesha.

"You're really living your fairy tale, huh?" I mused, squeezing her shoulders affectionately. "From the fall to the ring—this is all so dramatic, just like you."

Ayesha laughed, the sound ringing out like music, her eyes sparkling with joy. "I guess I am," she said softly, her voice tinged with wonder. "It all feels like a dream, you know? But it's real... it's really happening, it's really happened Alhamdulilah"

We sat there for a moment, the reality of the day sinking in. Ayesha, the tomboy who once scoffed at the idea of romance, was now married with a ring on her finger that could make anyone swoon.

It's funny how little we truly know about the future, isn't it? Life has a way of unfolding, bringing surprises when we least expect them and in ways we couldn't possibly predict. Who could have ever imagined things would turn out like this? Certainly not me. But it was all really the Qadr of Allah.

Just as I was lost in my thoughts, reflecting on how unpredictable life can be, her voice cut through the moment. "Alright, enough with the sappy stuff, Where's the food? I'm starving!" she exclaimed, her tone filled with her familiar dramatic urgency.

At that very moment, my mom appeared at our side, her timing impeccable. Without missing a beat, she reached over and gave her a playful pinch, instantly silencing her. The whole scene was so perfectly timed that it was almost as if they had rehearsed it.

I noticed Saleem watching the exchange, a chuckle escaping his lips. He shook his head, a smile playing on his face.

"Behave," she said with a playful hiss as Ayesha rubbed her shoulder affectionately.

Ayesha, flashing a wide, apologetic smile, replied, "Sorry, Aunty. Can I eat now?"

My mother let out a warm chuckle and gestured for her to wait, before turning and disappearing into the kitchen. . Before long, my mom reappeared, carefully carrying a plate of food. She handed it to Ayesha with a teasing remark, "Try not to stain your dress like Miss Clumsy over here."

I couldn't help but laugh in surprise at the memory she brought up. "Mom," I interjected with an amused tone.

She waved me off with a dismissive gesture and a knowing smile before retreating back into the kitchen.

"Gimme some" I whispered to Ayesha as she ate from her plate, it all looked so good, I felt my mouth water just looking at it and the aroma coming from it.

"Isn't it bad luck for you to eat from my plate?" She said with mock confusion.

"Bestie," I said, laughing in disbelief at her clear attempt to keep me from her plate.

"I heard it somewhere, bestie," she responded with a grin, still enjoying her meal. "It's not that I don't want to share this tiny portion with you, even though you've probably already eaten. I'm just looking out for you, babe." She continued eating with a satisfied smile.

"Have it your way, Miss Bride," I said, feigning indifference. "I didn't want any anyway."

But she wasn't done. "Here," she said, extending a forkful of food towards me. I lifted my niqab with practiced ease to make it easier for her to feed me, and she burst into laughter at my shamelessness. Her laughter was so infectious that it quickly had me laughing along with her.

Moments like this really make all the tough times and heartache seem worth it. Sharing laughs and joy like this makes everything feel right. Being here with my best friend on her special day, surrounded by loved ones, is something I wouldn't trade for anything. These are the moments that truly matter. And I'm blessed enough to witness them time and time again.

~

Ayesha is a wifeeee.

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