Chapter Eight.

****

The church doors opened an hour later, and the bridesmaids, one by one, glided down the aisle toward the pulpit. The place was filled with family, friends, well-wishers, and majorly paparazzi. It was set to be the wedding of the year.

Faces blurred. Whispers blended. The music swelled as Sarah moved down the aisle. She gave Kristen, who sat on one of the pews towards the back, a watery smile of appreciation for a job well done with the dresses. It was returned with a thumbs-up.

At the front of the church, she locked on her aunt's, Mrs. Rodriguez's, reassuring smile and let it steady her as she floated towards one of the two spaces beside her. When she took her place, she could finally relax and return her smile too.

Then the traditional wedding march began to play and the doors at the back of the sanctuary opened again.

Amelia filled the opening, looking radiant in her lacy white gown and matching veil. She was escorted by her father, who looked happier than the couple in his black tux and leather shoes. Cameras began to click almost immediately, and the guests stood. Partly because it was mandatory and partly because they were awed by how she looked. 

She walked serenely down the aisle, ego rising with each envious or appreciative look she picked from the faces of the female population in the room.

Then her gaze landed on the expressionless face of her attractive husband-to-be, who watched her walk down the aisle. She pursed her lips in a self-satisfied smirked, hoping he saw it through the veil. She did promise that she would be seeing him see on the 30th, in a white dress and a wicked smile, prepared to make the rest of his life miserable. If he remembered, she couldn't tell, as he only responded with silence.

Soon, they were face to face and the priest asked. “Who gives this woman?”

“Her father,” Mr. Rodriguez replied. He kissed her on the cheek, then took her hand and placed it in the groom’s. “Take care of my jewel, Zaki.”

“I will,” he replied, voice gruff. 

The priest began officiating as her father moved to his space beside her mother. His speech went on for over fifteen minutes before they started with their personal vows.

What was supposed to be pure, sweet, and full of love, came out emotionlessly for Zaki when he said, “I promise to be a good husband, a friend, and a good father to our unborn kids,” 

“I promise to be the same,” she replied with the slightest shrug.

“You promise to be a good husband to me?” he deadpanned. 

“No, dummy.” she swiped at his arm. “A good wife.” the audience chuckled, mistaking the dialogue for a cute lover's banter.

“Do we have the rings?” the priest asked. 

Zaki retrieved it from his best man, uncle Ali's son, and handed it over to the priest for blessings. It was a nice piece from the Omidyar exclusive line. He’d asked for the most stupidly expensive, generic thing they had. Something that said the fiancé is rich, but also knows nothing about his bride-to-be. Something perfect for the two of them.

Her ring was handed back to him, and he was asked to repeat after the priest. “With this ring, I take you, Amelia Rodriguez, as my lawful wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do us part.”

Amelia repeated the same and then, the moment she'd been trying hard not to think about, came.

“….hereby pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

She cast a side glance at the anxious faces in the church. Whispers went around, and they all looked excited as they awaited the kiss. Without further ado, Zaki bent a little and pressed his lips to hers briefly.

*****

Her mother looked between them, basking in whatever she thought she was witnessing, and clapped her hands together. “Look at you two!”

With the church service over, the couple had been escorted to where they took the wedding pictures. Their guests had been ushered into a beautiful Solarium for canapés and drinks to keep them happy during this period.

“You both look so good together.” 

“I'm sure we do,” Amelia replied with heavy sarcasm in her voice.

Zaki glanced at his watch and cleared his throat. “We need to leave now.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Rodriguez smiled at him. “Your guests are waiting. Let's join them.”

“I mean to the airport. We leave for Iran in an hour.” 

She gasped as Amelia gritted her teeth. “And you're just telling me this now? It didn't occur to you that I may have personal issues to lay to rest before leaving?”

“You'll do that later, or better still get someone to do it on your behalf.” 

She scoffed. “You thoughtless bast--”

“--that's enough,” her mother stepped in between them. Smiling brightly at some pressmen who were watching them. She couldn't pretend like she hadn't heard what most people were saying about the wedding. They all thought it strange that the couple weren't all up in their emotions, as most people who'd just gotten married were. A fight was the only thing they needed to connect the dots perfectly, and she'll be damned if they witnessed one. 

“Let us all calm down,” she added. “But what's the rush? It's your wedding day, Zaki. It doesn't make sense that you wouldn't even attend your reception party.”

He turned to her. “My apologies, Madam. But this is one thing I must insist on. I have a critical meeting slated for 8 am tomorrow. We have to leave now if I'm to make it at all.”

“Great, just great.” Amelia scowled as she stormed off to her dressing room.

“Since the meeting sounds so important, I bet you can't miss it then. Don't worry.” her mother forced another smile. “I’ll have the gifts transferred from the gift table to the limo, as well as a bouquet of chrysanthemums specially for the bride.”

“They are her personal favorites,” she added with a wink for the groom.

“I see,” he replied, tone uninterested. “Excuse me, I'll go get ready.”

He left, and she moved to assist her daughter with anything she may need. It took Amelia thirty minutes to get ready for the trip. That was all the time she needed to trash the wedding gown in exchange for comfortable mom jeans, a black crop top, and white sneakers. Once she was done, she joined him by the limo which now had her boxes, and they left for the airport together.

Right from the moment they arrived, she'd been treated like the queen she believed herself to be. His private jet had been waiting on stand-by, and then, once seated in what was a comfy armchair as opposed to the usual cramped airline seat, she'd been surrounded by cabin crews for whom nothing seemed too much trouble. 

Once they were airborne, an array of fine Italian dishes was set out on a table in front of her chair as Zaki took out a sheaf of papers from his briefcase. 

“So I guess you're going to be one of those husbands then,” she said, spearing a little shrimp with her fork.

Attention fixed unwaveringly on the papers he was working on, he asked. “Which ones?” 

“The workaholics. The grumpy ones….maybe even the bullies. The ones who ignore their wives.”

He dropped the paper, and slowly raised his head. He held her gaze for what seemed like an eternity. It was pretty intense, like he was studying or figuring out something complex about her. And then, unforgivably, as if he'd finally figured it out, he threw back his head and roared with laughter.

*****