The alarm clock on Aisha's bedside table rang loudly, showing 4:30 a.m., waking her from sleep. She tried to move her arms but found them stuck. Slowly opening her eyes, she looked around and froze, her breath catching in her throat. Omar was holding one of her hands tightly, while the other rested beneath his cheek, as if he were sleeping on it.
For a moment, Aisha couldn't help but stare at how peaceful he looked. There was no scowl, no trace of anger, just calmness. She wished time would stop, allowing her to keep admiring him, as if his features were sculpted by angels. His sharp jawline softened in sleep, his thick eyebrows no longer furrowed, and his lips slightly parted in peaceful repose. Even in his stillness, there was something undeniably captivating about him.
Aisha debated whether to stay still and enjoy the rare moment of closeness or attempt to retrieve her hands without waking him. The latter seemed like a difficult task, as his grip was firm. But she had to get out of bed soon if she didn’t want to miss her tahajjud prayer. Still, she lingered, appreciating the rarity of this moment, Omar never held her like this.
Omar and Aisha had known each other since childhood, thanks to the friendship between their parents. Growing up, they weren't particularly close, merely acquaintances. Yet Aisha had always admired him from afar. Omar was charismatic without even trying; his mere presence captured everyone's attention. In high school, he was especially popular, and his talents as a badminton player made him a star. Whenever he played, the stands filled with girls eager to watch him, and Aisha was no exception.
When school ended, Aisha's crush on Omar deepened, but her heart sank when he left Pakistan to study in London. She moped around for days, but eventually refocused on her own studies, knowing there was little she could do about his departure.
Then one day, while passing by her parents’ room, Aisha overheard a conversation that stopped her in her tracks.
"Salma apa has asked for Aisha's hand in marriage for Omar," her mother, Nadia, informed her father, Haroon.
"Did she say it directly?" her father asked, intrigued.
"Yes, she didn't hesitate. She said they consider Aisha like a daughter but now wish to make her their daughter-in-law by marrying her to Omar."
Aisha stood frozen, straining to hear every word. Her mother continued, "I told her I’d speak to you and Aisha first. But I assured her that we know Omar well and think highly of him."
"I was considering Omar for Aisha too," her father replied thoughtfully. "If she agrees, then we can proceed."
Aisha could hardly contain her excitement. She hurried to her room, closed the door, and let out a silent scream of joy. She was going to marry Omar, the boy she had quietly loved for so long.
The next day, when her parents asked her consent, she coyly replied, "I trust whatever you decide for me will be best," which was clearly a resounding yes. Her parents were delighted, and soon, word was sent to Omar's family.
It wasn’t long before Omar’s acceptance came through, though Aisha noticed a delay in his response. Still, she shrugged it off, focusing on the excitement of her upcoming wedding.
Three months later, they were married in a small, intimate nikaah ceremony, just as Aisha had wanted. She wore a stunning white bridal suit with intricate embroidery, a red dupatta draped elegantly over her head. Omar looked equally dashing in a white sherwani, though his face remained stoic throughout the event, an expression that gave nothing away.
In the three months leading up to the wedding, Aisha hadn’t spoken much to Omar. He arrived in Pakistan just a day before the ceremony, claiming he was too busy with work. His absence irked Aisha, but her future mother-in-law reassured her, “He’s been swamped, beta. Once you’re married, he’ll be with you.”
The day after nikaah, at their small reception, Aisha wore a breathtaking pink ensemble, while Omar donned a stylish blue suit.
They had taken only a few photos over the two days, now lovingly gathered into an album. After the reception, Aisha’s rukhsati took place. She wept like a child, embracing her parents, not only because she was leaving them behind, but also her homeland. After marriage, she would be moving to London with Omar, as his business was based there.
Aisha had always dreamed of being a devoted wife rather than a career woman, and now that she had the chance, she was determined to fulfill that role wholeheartedly. Financial independence was never a concern; as an only child, her parents had always provided her with everything she needed.
She also believed that, according to her faith, if her mehram, her father or husband, could provide for her basic needs, she needn’t work. Despite being surrounded by wealth, with her father, husband, and father-in-law all running successful businesses, Aisha remained low-maintenance. She had no desire to flaunt her family’s wealth or indulge in unnecessary expenses. She enjoyed a simple life, with modest clothing, modest words, and a humble heart.
After a week to their wedding they moved to London. Omar's London apartment was beautiful,Spacious open-plan living area with sleek kitchen, dining, and lounge,2 generous bedrooms with walk-in closets and en-suite bathrooms.Floor-to-ceiling windows, hardwood flooring, and modern finishes.Private balcony with stunning city view. She was excited for their new life together. But her excitement was short-lived.26Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡg64WRHHJh4
The moment they stepped into the apartment, Omar turned to her, his face serious. "Aisha, I never wanted to get married so soon. I have a lot on my plate, and this wasn’t my choice. I’ll take care of your expenses, but don’t expect me to be a loving husband. I’m too busy for that. Please, stay out of my way."
Aisha’s heart sank. She had known he wasn’t enthusiastic about the marriage, but hearing him say it so bluntly stung. Tears filled her eyes as she realized the reality of her situation, she felt like an unwanted burden.
After that, they settled into a routine of coexisting rather than living as a couple. They shared a room, though Omar promised to furnish another bedroom for her, a promise he fulfilled after a few months. However, neither of them made the move to separate bedrooms.
Now, as Aisha pulled her hands free from Omar's grip, her heart ached with the tension between them. He hadn’t asked her to move out of their shared room, and she couldn’t understand why. Despite his earlier words, he still held onto her in his sleep, as if subconsciously seeking her presence. As she rose for her tahajjud prayer, she smiled at the small, silent connection they shared, even if it was buried under layers of unspoken words.
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