Mending You And I (Halal Lovestory)

Third Person's POV:

A glamorous, red embroidered wedding dress shone back at her deep hazel eyes as they inspected it with awe. The golden beads that traveled down the neck to the bodice, making golden spiraling designs that were enough to make any girl squeal out of joy.

A strand of wavy hair was tugged behind her ear by her long, slender fingers. One of them was surrounded by a diamond ring that shone brighter than the ceiling lights of the shabby room. 

Maryam looked around the room, thinking that it was probably her last night there—if Allah willed and her foster parents didn't do anything to stop the wedding. She remembered the nasty look on Salma—her foster mother's face when she heard Amna Saleh express her eagerness for Maryam to become her daughter-in-law.

Only a few weeks before the gorgeous dress arrived at her doorstep, did she hear the news that her foster father, Mehmood Abdul Ghafoor had said yes to the Saleh couple. It was a strange feeling that she felt at that moment. Excitement and joy were some of the emotions she felt with fear and worry.

The strange feeling returned as she started at the dress hanged neatly in the small cupboard. She eyed the heavy-looking dupatta that was even more embroidered than the dress. Finally, the day came that she was going to wear that piece of art.

It looked expensive, to say the least, but it was already expected of Amna Saleh and her husband, Mua'az Saleh.

A knock on the door made Maryam snap out of her daydream and she turned quickly towards the door. She pushed it open, which revealed her little sister, Husna, probably the only person in the house that had better things to do than make Maryam regret she was ever born.

Husna was just 13. She was mostly oblivious of Maryam's existence but she was nice. "Mom's asking if you're ready," she asked, pulling her phone away from her face that showed her round black eyes and brown ponytail. Maryam nodded.

"Almost," she replied. Then, she pointed to her face. "Do you think it looks okay?" she asked Husna who acknowledged the makeup on her face at that moment. With a small smile and a thumbs up, she spoke. "Great. You look exactly like those glamorous brides in Indian films." with that, she left.

Maryam smiled to no one in particular and walked away from the door to put on the dress–something she was dreading. Finally, after struggling inside the wedding gown and avoiding getting her bun tangled in the beads, she looked at herself one last time in the mirror.

She looked nice. But something was missing.

She tried looking at herself after pulling on the heavy jewelry that was also her soon-to-be mother-in-law's gift. But again, she felt like she was missing something.

As if on cue, Salma barged inside, wearing her sparkly peach Kurti and trousers. "My God, Maryam! Can't you do anything right?!" she stormed up to the confused girl and took her by the shoulders.

"You had one task! Just one! And you couldn't even do that properly." as she ranted on about how useless Maryam was, she fixed the heavy dupatta over her head, concealing the perfect bun. Just two curled strands fell out from the sides of her face. After the dupatta was pinned up, Salma breathed a sigh of relief.

"Now that you're ready, let's get going." weirdly, Salma wasn't very noisy that day. Maryam looked at herself one last time and a smile broke out on her face. "Perfect." she thought to herself as her mother bickered on and on in the background.

"Move your lazy self, already! Don't you know the time of the function? We're late!" that made Maryam start walking on her pencil high heels. She ignored the pain as she was excited to live the experience of wearing such expensive and long heels.

It wasn't long before they got into the car. Maryam was seated beside Husna who looked more interested in her I*******m feed than the bride sitting with her. In the passenger seat, sat Shehroz. He ran a long look at Maryam from head to toe from the rear mirror and suddenly, she wanted to jump out of her seat and give him a punch he would remember.

But of course, she couldn't. No matter how many times he had touched Maryam inappropriately and flirted with her, even going to such lengths as coming inside her bedroom at midnight, Salma thought her son was the definition of a pure angel and no one could convince her otherwise. Maryam couldn't express her wish to go to Pizza Hut rather than KFC, let alone tell Salma that her son was a pervert who wanted nothing more than to lay his filthy hands on his own foster sister.

And there, the case was closed.

"What did you eat, my Jaan?" Salma inquired lovingly from her son when he was finished checking Maryam out. "Sandwiches. Dad said that we were going to eat at the wedding anyway so it was best to have a light snack." Shehroz replied, like the mama's boy he was.

Even though he was twenty, he was more immature than Husna who could at least differentiate between right and wrong.

Maryam wasn't interested in the usual conversation Salma had with her children mostly because it just consisted of her rubbing it on her face that Maryam wasn't anything to her and her children deserved all the love she had.

When the car stopped, Maryam realized that they had reached. Obviously, they were before the other guests. She was helped out of the car by their neighbor who was a nice lady. "You look stunning, Maryam. I'm sure your husband would love the look." Margaret remarked when they entered the bride's room.

A big mirror was pasted on the wall and Maryam could see herself whenever she shifted her gaze from Margaret. The teasing comment made her blush out of embarrassment and she just gave the middle-aged woman a shy smile.

"Oh, Lord. You're like the perfect bride. Smiling shyly like that. Your in-laws are some lucky people!" Margaret loved to compliment others but that time, she was right.

It made Maryam wonder about her groom.

What was he like?

Sweet and caring like Amna?

Or kind and thoughtful as Mua'az?

After all, the fruit doesn't fall from the tree. The fact that her groom was the son of the Saleh couple was convincing enough that she was going to be in good hands, Inshaa Allah.

Not very long after the final touch-up on her makeup, she was given the message that it was time for her to make her appearance. She walked out to the hall, her heels echoing in the whole room as she glided elegantly with Margaret holding her hand while Husna held up her dupatta that touched the ground.

Disposable plates filled with flower petals lit up the room with a sweet fragrance which Maryam enjoyed. She felt a little nervous when she recognized a few women she saw on TV, most likely the Salehs' guests.

The Saleh's were influential people that knew a lot of celebrities and big businesses men. As expected of the owners of a big textile company. Thousands worked under them and they were often on TV giving interviews and being asked about her sudden success.

Everybody turned to look at her. She could see fascination written all over their faces as all the Aunties in the room silently prayed for an equally gorgeous daughter-in-law. Maryam's hands curled into a fist and that was how she controlled the butterflies she was feeling in her stomach out of anxiety.

She was least worried about the groom then.

Finally, she sat down on the decorated couch on the stage that was laid out for her. She didn't dare look up, dreading the looks of all the upper-class women there. 

Soon, she was handed a paper to sign. With a deep breath, she did as she was expected to, constantly praying to Allah to make everything okay for her. As whispers of "congratulations" filled the room, it dawned upon her.

She was married.

FRIGGIN married!!

She took deep breaths to calm her nerves which helped her. She reminded herself that it wasn't a big deal as millions of people would be getting married at the exact time she was and it was just a normal thing. But, despite all that, she felt as if she was taking everything too lightly.

In most Indian and Pakistani weddings, brides were expected to cry and be sad about moving away from their family but that wasn't the case at all with Maryam.

It made her feel a bit paranoid. She was forced to think about whether she was normal or not.

"Everyone, take your hijabs! The groom is coming!" a loud voice called out which boomed in the whole room. That made Maryam quickly reach for her own dupatta to cover her hair properly which earned her a laugh from the Aunty sitting beside her to click a few pictures with her.

"Dear, you aren't supposed to cover up. He's your husband now." she laughed, amused at Maryam's simplicity and innocence, patting her dainty shoulder with her big hands. Maryam glowed a deep red under the dark makeup out of embarrassment and she thanked Allah quietly that only one individual was there to witness her embarrassing moment.

The groom entered the hall, making a great entrance, his excited mother leading the way. Maryam tried to look down but couldn't help but glance at her life-long spouse.

Her hazel eyes were met with dark green ones. His white complexion made Maryam realize that he was different than his parents. The gorgeous, sleek, shiny black hair that almost reached his shoulders shone under the hall lights.

He was definitely a pretty face.

Maryam blushed at the sight but her nervousness flashed into fear when she felt him sit down beside her, his cologne filling her nose. She felt his heavy presence which made her curl into herself, unconsciously moving away a little. She felt paranoid about her naked arms that were exposed so that her milky skin could complement her dark red wedding dress.

She bit her lip involuntarily, her heartbeat rising. Her Hayah didn't allow her to relax and her back ached because of the uncomfortable sitting position she was in.

"Come on now, Groom! We want you to give your wife a rose." Amna smiled brightly as she handed her son a rose. With an unreadable expression, he did as his mother said. All the women in the room looked closely as he neared the rose to Maryam.

The unmarried girls watched in awe as the handsome black-haired man placed the rose in her delicate hands making her flinch when he touched her.

That marked the beginning of Maryam and Abdullah's lives as complete strangers tied in a bond of marriage.