"What do you mean I'm getting married in 4 days?!" I gulp the apple as I look at them with wide eyes while they ignore me and pick up the jewellery the old man is showing them.
"Four days means today is Tuesday, so," she starts counting on her fingers, "on Saturday is your nikkah and Sunday, Valima." She happily grins and turns her attention toward the jewellery.
"These types of jewels I wore when I was getting marriedâ you want my daughter to wear the same designs?!" My grandma glares at the old man, who gulps and picks up some other collections. "Show me some modern collections, just like my bacha (baby)!" Grandma holds my chin and shakes her head as she tells the old man to show her the modern collections.
I roll my eyes, feeling so annoyed. I thought I was the brideâwhy the hell are they not informing me of anything?
Ziyan clearly told me today that I should stay at home, and that's why I woke up at 11. When I did, I saw them in the living room running here and there while the aunties were choosing jewellery and the men were talking about the venue. And now, when I asked what the hell was happening, they tell me I'm getting married in 4 days. Are they serious? They better not be, 'cause I freakin' don't like jokes!
"Ammi, what are you saying? Who gets married in 4 days? You told me we were just getting engaged!" I cry, pulling her arm so she looks at me.
"Go ask your future husbandâhe's the culprit. He wants to be wedded as soon as possible. What can we do?" she says, giving me some new information. "And Ziyan has challenged me to do the rituals. You just wait and watch how I'll make your wedding the most memorable one!" She grins as her mother pats her back, feeling proud of her daughter.
With a huff, I stand upâabandoning the half-eaten appleâand pick up my phone before rushing to my room.
Throwing my hijab off, I lie on the bed as I dial Ziyan's number.
"Hello?" His manly yet calm, soothing voice reaches my ears in just two rings, and now I'm thinking of what to say. Why did I call him? Oh waitâI was angryâ
"Are you there, Ziah?" I mumble a 'yes,' and he hums in response. "How are you feeling now? Any headache?" The worry in his voice was enough for me to say yes to the marriage even if it were tomorrow, but I compose myself. Act mature, Ziahâact mature. Don't fall for such witchy acts. He didn't give women rights here, so he's not as good as he seems.
"No, I'm fine now. I just woke up," I say in a low voice, not really knowing why I'm whispering. "Hmm, so you didn't eat?" he asks. I shake my head while playing with my shirt button, but quickly slap myself when I realize he can't see me shaking my head.
"Ate an apple," he hums in response. "That's not a good meal for someone who has taken medicine. Go fill your stomach, okay?" I press my lips to avoid grinning at his sweet order and just hum, "Hmm, okay." He's anti-feminist, Ziahâdon't fall for his antics, I remind my weak self again and again.
"Why did you call me?" he finally gets to the point, clearly bored of talking to me. And I realize that I was upset just a few seconds ago.
""You're getting married to whom?" I say, my tone turning stern and rude.
"You," he replies casually.
"Yeah, you're marrying me. You are the groom and I am the bride, so, mister, who gave you the right to decide that we will get married in just 4 days? Hmm? Didn't you think of asking your bride?" I question him as I flip over to lie on my stomach.
"Well, you accepted the marriage, so I thought I would decide when we would get married," he calmly tells meâwhich boils my blood.
"That's not fairâyou should have asked me." My ego is hurt, guys; I need to fight for my self-respect.
"Yeah, I should have. I'm so sorry, hmm, okay then..." He pauses for a second and then speaks in a way that makes my heart flutter and nearly gives me a heart attack before marriage. "Ziah Othman Ali?" I bite my lip really hard, grinning when he calls my name, and I hum in response, feeling shy for no reason. "Are you willing to become Mrs. Ziyan Ali this Saturday?" A giggle escapes my lips at his sweetest proposal, and my face turns red as a tomato upon hearing him. He even chuckles at his own cheesinessâa side of him I never thought existed.
"Should I take that as a yes, Ms. Ziah?" He doesn't stop teasing me.
"Shut up, Ziyan," I mumble against the pillow, grinning like a madwoman.
After a pause, he speaks: "Go eat something; it's already 11, and Max came with some files. I'll keep the call now. Take care." Not able to speak after he shut me up, I hum in response but mumble "take care" before cutting the call and tossing the phone aside.
"Ya Allah! What just happened?!" I throw the pillow away like a madwoman but then grab another one to hide my flushed cheeks.
"Oh God, I'll get a heart attack for sure!" Jumping out of bed, I happily hop toward the kitchen to eat something
5:30 pm
5:30â¯pm
"You're burning?" I gasp worriedly at Ziyan as I sit on the arm of the couch while he rests his head on the headrest.
"I am fine, Ziah," he mumbles, removing my hand from his forehead.
"How was your day?" he questions me as if he were absolutely fine. "What are you doing, girl?" A gasp escapes my lips when my grandma pulls me by my arm, forcing me to stand on my legs. "Ouch, what is it?" I whine, rubbing my arm.
"Your husband is sitting down and, without any respect, you're sitting above him?" I narrow my eyes to glare at her.
"I was sitting here!" I pat the arm of the couch.
"How does that mean I am sitting above him? And for your information, he is not my husband yet." I rest my hands on my waist to give this old woman a good glareâbut she slaps my back.
"Ammi! Control your mother's hand; she's beating me!" I yell before sitting beside Ziyan, who chuckles at Grandma and her drama.
"Ya Allah, this girlâhe will be your husband soon, and you're sitting beside him like this. Get up, get up!" she exclaims, pulling me by my arm, and I'm so close to sending this woman back to her native.
"Grandma, careful, it's okay," Ziyan chuckles, looking at us but then asking her to handle me gentlyâeven though he can see she's abusing me.
"Oh, don't worry, darling; I'll take care of her. I heard your head is painingâshould I press your head?" She sits beside him, and before she can press his forehead, he stops her politely.
"I am fine, Grandma. If I take an aspirin and get some sleep, then I'll be fine," he says with a smile, holding her hand.
"And Ziah, you'll be preparing for the project from home, and next week you have to present itâdon't forget." I roll my eyes when he reminds me of something I can never forget.
"I can't go to the office?" I ask, sitting down on the ground in front of him, and he quickly sits up as if surprised.
"What are you doing? Sit here," he says, patting the space beside him. I take a peek at Grandma, who glares at me and shakes her headâher way of teaching me manners.
"Nah, I am fine. Tell me, when will I be joining the office? I miss my friends." I pull my knees up to my chest as I sit comfortably.
"You're getting married, Ziah," Grandma starts. "For God's sake, I know thatâI was the one who said yes, so I know!" Since morning, they've been eating my ears with only one thing: 'Don't do this, you're getting married; don't do that, you're getting married; don't sit, you're getting married.' Now what the hell should I do? Die? Because I am getting married?
"And when we got married in our time, they used to make us sit in the house for more than a monthâno going out, nothing." She brings up her marriage again, and I roll my eyes. "And sit properly," she glares at me. With a huff, I stand up, unable to tolerate this any longer.
"Grandma, I clearly know I will be marrying him soon; you don't have to tell me! And so what if I am marrying him? What do you want me to doâcover my face with a veil and roam? Sorry, but I can't do that." I rush away, glaring at the chuckling Ziyan, who is clearly enjoying this.
"Darling! When did I say that?" she yells as I leave the room. "I'll go check on her; she's just getting emotional because she's leaving me and her parents," she tells Ziyan, and I can almost see her patting his back before she calls me again, "Ya Allah, don't get upset, my baby; I'm saying everything for your own good." I shut the door before she enters.
I lie on the bed, feeling angry over many things. But then my phone rings, and I lazily roll over to pick it up.
When I see Ziyan's number, I quickly clear my throat and, after taking two deep breaths, answer the call.
"What is it?" I sayâfacepalming myself for speaking so fastâthen take another deep breath when I hear him chuckling.
"Is someone upset?" His calm, sweet voice questions me, and I smile shyly as I fall back onto the bed. "Is there any reason left for me not to be upset?"
"Sir, your medicines," I hear the nurse say, and I quickly sit up again. "You said you're fine?" He mumbles a thank you to the nurse before speaking, "I'm fineâjust a headache, and I asked the nurse to give me some medicine." I hear a door, which I guess is his room, shut, and I can tell he's in there from the way he sighs.
"I can tell thatâthese ladies are torturing this innocent girl," he says, taking my side. "Yes, they are; since morning, they've been eating my head with this and thatâGod, I am fed up now," I huff, feeling so tired of this life, and he just giggles on the other end. "I'll warn them not to torture you."
"You better do," I warn him playfully, and we both laugh at nothing. Even though talking on the phone is very new for us, it feels like we always do this. Just like that, I tell him what I bought today and how the preparations are going, and we talk for more than 30 minutesâwith me doing most of the talking and him listening and occasionally commenting if he finds something funny. Then, finally, I realize he isn't well, and I bid him goodbye while ordering him to sleep, to which he replies, "Okay, I will, Ms. Ziah."
Lying on the bed with my arm behind my head, I stare at the ceiling while thinking about how things have turned out in the last few days.
Marrying Ziah is another story. It is something that was bound to happen today or some other dayâeither through emotional blackmail or by force, our relatives would have tied us together.
Since I was 20, I knew this, and I always thought of Ziah as my cousinâmy cousin only, not as my sisterâto avoid making things awkward. Because I knew one day this would happen, even though I didn't put much thought into it. But still, I knew.
But Ziah being in danger and how things were revealed to me this morning is just giving me a headache because I am not able to understand what is happening.
Flashback
My heart thumps against my chest when Ziah's name leaves his lips, and I am quick to question Mateo.
"Yes? What do you want to talk about her?" I stand up and walk toward him, and he quickly takes a step back, flinching.
His eyes are on the ground, and in my eyes, he looks like a teen who has done something wrong and is scared. And from the way he was referring to Ziah as his, I don't like this guy.
"Can you please talk, Mateo?" I glare at him, and he gulps, peeking at me.
"How is Ziah now?" he questions me, and my eyebrows furrow at his audacity, but nevertheless, I answer, "She is fine." He nods and finally decides to speak.
"When I was a kid, my parents died, and I was taken care of by my grandma, who treated me like I was some precious gem. She wouldn't let me go out with friends, thinking I would get hurt. Even if she slept on an empty stomach, she would feed me until I was full. She was my everything. But one day, she died, and everything inside me died with her. A letter from her was the only thing that kept me alive, where she said I would find a girl who would take care of me. From that moment, I was searching for a girl, and finally, six months ago, I saw Ziah," he pauses, taking a deep breath while shuddering a little as he continues.
"I love Ziah. She has been my everything since the moment my eyes laid on her beautiful brown ones. I first met her on a street where she was helping a crying boy, and I felt like she was helping me because I am still a crying boy with no one to help me. She was so sweet to that boy that she bought him a candy, and I felt jealous of him but fell in love with her that day. Since then, she has been the only one who rules my head. After that, I started following her, and I joined this company. She was so sweet to other employees that I got very jealous seeing her, but since she talked to me happily, I ignored those things. For the last six months, I have been giving her gifts, knowing how much she loves them," he chuckles shyly, not knowing how much I am boiling over here.
"She was just like my grandma saidâthe one who is sweet and will take care of me," he smiles to himself like a creep.
With my hard eyes, I quietly listen to him. So he is that creep? He is that stalker? He is talking so sweetly as if he didn't just scare my little Ziah.
"I even planned on living with her away from this country. I have set everything in my mind," he chuckles again like a creep, and I feel like he is a psycho.
"Everything was going great until you came," he pouts, giving me a glare that does nothing to me. "I was so jealous of you that sometimes I thought of running away with Ziah and hiding her in my arms, but then yesterday, I realized I am not good for Ziah," he breathes out, shuddering.
"Yesterday, she was so vulnerable, but I didn't even have a percentage of guts to move forward when I saw that rat. It scared me. The rat was ugly. It made my stomach curl up, it made me gag, it was scary with its hand and allâyew, who does that?" He rubs his hands as if trying to remove goosebumps.
"I don't even know what Ziah must have gone through when she literally saw that ugly thing in front of her eyes," he shakes his head, upset, and now I am confused. So he wasn't the one who did that yesterday? Then who did? Isn't he the creep who has been stalking her?
I am so close to throwing my fist at his face to make him spit everything out, but I calm myself and listen to him.
"So you're telling me you weren't the one who gifted her that rat yesterday?" His eyes widen at my words. "Holy Christ, you think I was the one who did that? Bro, I'd faint even trying to catch a rat, and you think I would operate on one? Please," he gags, putting his palm forth as if asking me to stop this nonsense.
"I thought I was Ziah's knight in shining armor, but yesterday, seeing how much of a scaredy-cat I became, I think I was wrong. I cried all night for not protecting her. And from the way she jumped into your arms and didn't even look at her friends, it tells me she trusts you, and you are good for her. And anyway, you guys are getting married too. So today, I came to tell youâplease find that fucker who scared my girl and please protect her. I want someone to protect me, so I don't think I can protect Ziah. So I am giving her hand to you. Please protect her," he nods, patting my back as if he is the girl's father. For god's sake, with his dramatic ass, he wipes his tears as he nods his head.
He sniffs quietly after confusing the hell out of my brain.
"How can you all be so cold-hearted? I am broken here, and you're not even offering me a hug," he pouts and looks at me, opening his arms. Not this shit now.
Rolling my eyes, I walk away toward my chair before he can wrap his arms around me, making him lose his balance, and he whines like a kid.
Of course, he needs someone to take care of him, or else I don't know what will happen to this dumb human. But somewhere, I feel bad for him because he grew up without parents, and his grandma was the only one with him. She pampered him so much that he is still a baby, and even after her death, he is asking for a mother-like figure, which he apparently saw in Ziah, who herself is a baby.
This shit is messed up.
Then who the hell is sending me her pictures? Who is threatening me every day with a new pic, asking me to stay away from her?
So Ziah has two stalkers, and the second one is the dangerous one?
I lift my chin to see Fuzail hugging Mateo and swinging his body from one side to another. "I'll give you lots and lots of hugs, man," he ruffles his hair.
"I want you to stop giving Ziah gifts from today," my voice stops their brotherly moment, and Mateo looks at me with a sad expression.
"But she likes gifts," he tells me as if I don't know that. But I only glare at him. I already don't like him for even looking at Ziah, let alone planning a future with her. And now he tells me he wants to gift her, and I'm supposed to be quiet?
"If you want to stay in this building, then you do as I say, or else you can pack your things and leave." A gasp leaves his lips. "He is rude," he points at me, looking at Fuzail, who, touched by this innocent soul's story, glares at me. "Don't disturb my brother."
"You can work here, but let's stop with the gifts because she is traumatized now. If she sees gifts, she will be scared again, so Ziyan is saying not to gift her," he runs his fingers through Mateo's hair, telling him gently, and Mateo nods. That guy is shorter than us, so it looks like he is Fuzail's little brother.
"Excuse me, do I still have an entry?" A man holding a bag in one hand and a burger in the other gives us his biggest smile as he welcomes himself.
Now, who the hell is this?
He's short and healthyâfatter than necessary, but well, his body, his choice.
"Eric, bro! You came early," Fuzail starts excitedly, only to end with an eye roll.
"I'm sorry about that, man. The handsome guy at McDonald's was taking his sweet time preparing my breakfast. I was starving, and you know I can't ditch my breakfast, bro," Eric says, pulling Fuzail into a bone-crushing hugâone that genuinely looks like it could snap his ribs.
"Okay, where's the lover boy who wants to find out who's behind his woman?" he asks, his choice of words making me glare at Fuzail, who very conveniently avoids eye contact.
Yeah, I officially regret asking this idiot for help.
"Him." Fuzail points at me, and Eric's gaze shifts, scanning me.
"You're handsome. Are you free tonight?" He winks, flashing a grin.
I roll my eyes, already regretting my life choices, while my cousin laughs way too hard at that pathetic joke.
"Sorry, he's off-limits. He's getting married in four days," Fuzail informs him.
Mateo, lounging on the couch and casually munching on the chips Fuzail had been devouring earlier, chimes in unnecessarily, "With my girl."
"Oh my, who is this guy?" Eric perks up, burger in hand, striding toward Mateo, who blinks at him, caught off guard by the sudden attention.
"Your name, handsome?"
I press my fingers to my temple, on the verge of losing my mind and throwing them all out of my room.
"Uh... Mateo," he answers hesitantly.
"Beautiful nameâjust like you." Eric winks again.
Mateo presses his lips together, visibly nervous, while I sit here, cringing so hard I might implode.
Can they stop this bullshit?
"You said he's marrying your girl? What's the story? I'm interested." Eric plops down next to Mateo, who instantly scoots away like he's about to be devoured.
And just like that, they start narrating the whole ridiculous story. Max enters midway, handing me some files, but instead of leaving like a normal person, he, too, sits down, now equally invested.
I shift my focus to the pictures that had landed on my table this morning. They were sent via mail by some unknown bastard, and I still can't figure out who the hell is behind them.
"So this Ziah girl has two stalkers," Eric muses. "One is this buddy here, and the other is the creep snapping her pics in secret."
Everyone nods in agreement, while I lean back, rubbing my temples. My head is spinning.
End of the Flash back
****