Chapter 8

I won’t bore you with unnecessary details, but I will share something that will surely surprise you. Today is Monday, a day people often consider auspicious for wedding contracts. Don’t be shocked—yes, today is the day I had my marriage contract signed with Faisal.

After convincing my uncles to have a small, men-only contract ceremony today and a simple women’s gathering ten days later when his female relatives arrive, Faisal got his way. He has a remarkable ability to persuade.

You might be wondering about Ahlam. Unfortunately, I couldn’t bring myself to call her, but her mother did. She congratulated me and apologized for Ahlam’s irresponsible behavior, then revealed something that shocked me. She told me that Faisal had expressed his desire to marry a girl from Hossam’s family to Ahlam’s father four years ago, citing the similarities in customs and traditions between our families.

I thanked Ahlam’s mother, assured her of how much I valued Ahlam, and swore to her that I had done everything in my power to prevent this marriage. I’m not in love with Faisal; he’s just someone who proposed to me through my brother. But this is fate and destiny.

Her words were a balm to my wounds when she said, “Even if he hadn’t proposed to you, he wouldn’t have proposed to Ahlam. Ahlam isn’t suited to be his wife. We have our traditions and customs, which are different from his. Friendship, yes, but marriage would be difficult, believe me. Ahlam was infatuated with Faisal’s personality, but if she tried to tie him down with our traditions, she’d find him an unsuitable husband.”

She ended the call with, “May God bless you, my daughter, and may He bless him with you.” Her words brought me peace; may God grant her peace in this life and the hereafter.

Now, back to the marriage contract.

Only my mother, my aunt, and my dear friend from childhood and youth, Wafaa, who truly lives up to her name, attended the contract signing. When Hossam’s female relatives arrive, there will be a larger gathering with family and friends. The men’s ceremony took place at my uncle’s house, where they gathered to finalize the contract. When it was time for me to give my consent, Faisal, Hossam, Faisal’s elder uncle, my elder uncle, and the Sheikh came to our house. The Sheikh asked me from behind the guest room door, “Do you consent to marry Faisal, son of so-and-so?”

I answered, “Yes.”

After that, I was surrounded by hugs and the ululations that Wafaa expertly let out, despite Hossam’s warning that he didn’t want to hear any until the men had left. But warnings don’t work on Wafaa.

After the men left, I changed out of my simple white two-piece nightwear set—a tradition for the bride during the contract signing—and into a more luxurious kaftan. In our customs, if there’s no immediate celebration, the bride wears a nightwear set during the contract and changes into a formal dress only if there’s a party. Since my party is delayed, there was no need for the formal dress just yet.

After getting dressed, I performed ablutions and stood before my Creator, asking Him to bless my marriage.

Then, I took Wafaa to my room after asking my mother and aunt for permission.

That’s when Wafaa began her interrogation.

“What’s wrong? Why don’t I see happiness in your eyes?” she asked. I sighed deeply and said, “Pray that God blesses my marriage and keeps Satan’s whispers away from me.”

Without hesitation, she replied, “I already am. But what’s wrong? Why this defeatist attitude and nervousness in your words?”

“I’m afraid of losing you,” I confessed. “I’m afraid of losing friends. So please, Wafaa, help me keep our friendship. If I ever wrong you, know that it’s unintentional, and if you come to me with a grievance, I’ll be grateful to you. Please, Wafaa, don’t rush to end our friendship, no matter what happens.”

When I finished speaking, Wafaa practically stormed at me like a hurricane, shouting, “Hey, what’s wrong with you? Did you watch an Indian movie before signing your marriage contract and decide to apply its plot to your friend? Or are these the blessings of the groom that have made you lose your mind?”

I replied honestly, “You’ve hit the nail on the head. Yes, it’s the groom’s blessings—what do you know about him?”

She sat down, her excitement finally calming, and said sincerely, “Mona, no need for riddles. Get to the point, and don’t leave out a single detail, even if the story ends up being as long as ‘Bab al-Hara’ with all its seasons.”

“Alright, my loyal friend, here’s my story.” I told her everything that had happened to me.

One of Wafaa’s strengths is that, despite her impulsiveness, she’s a good listener. After I finished, she burst out in her usual enthusiastic manner, words pouring from her like bullets.

“You’re crazy! What does that girl mean by calling you a traitor? Did you seduce him? Did you exploit his friendship with your brother to get close to him? Tell me, how many times did you run into Faisal while you were both in the same city?”

I tried to speak, but she interrupted, “I’m telling you, it’s less than you can count on one hand, maybe even fewer.” I nodded in agreement.

“Then you didn’t plan any of this.”

She continued, “As your close friend, I was shocked by this proposal. You didn’t tell me about the first one or any of the details. That alone is enough to take you to the ‘friendship court’.”

I interrupted sharply, “No need for reproach, believe me. I don’t know where my mind was. My life became dark and cloudy, and my only concern was how to save my friendship with Ahlam.”

Wafaa responded, “You could have softened her anger if you had told her about the first proposal, especially after she confided in you about her relationship with Faisal.”

Then she took my hand and asked, “Mona, did you intentionally hurt Ahlam?”

“No.”

“Did you pursue Faisal so he would propose to you?”

“No.”

“Then Faisal is your destined partner, chosen by God for you. My grandmother always says, ‘When fate arrives, it silences all tongues and leaves no room for objections.’”

At that, I remembered the stunned silence that overcame me when Faisal proposed the second time.

I hugged Wafaa, grateful to her for restoring some of the self-confidence that had been stripped from me by everything that had happened.

Wafaa left after having dinner with me, my mother, and my aunt. My aunt also left, leaving me alone with my mother to discuss the upcoming party, which would take place in ten days, and the details of the dress I would wear. My mother had already arranged with a tailor in the city where I studied to prepare a dress suitable for the occasion. She had scheduled both my fitting and the dress’s pickup.

We were deep in conversation when Hossam entered the room and greeted us with, “Peace be upon you.”

We replied, “Peace be upon you, too.”

He approached me, kissed my forehead, congratulated me, then kissed my mother and congratulated her as well, jokingly adding, “Next up, Hossam.”

My mother hugged him, saying, “Amen.”

“To be married by the age of thirty, insha’Allah,” he laughed.

We all laughed at his comment, but then Hossam said, “The groom would like to greet his bride and her mother. His family is on the phone and wants to offer their congratulations.”

I was shocked. My face turned pale, then green, then red. I stammered, “Hossam, please don’t joke like that. This request is impossible.” Tears welled up in my eyes, and my mother hugged me, trying to calm me down while Hossam looked on in bewilderment.

My mother began reciting protective prayers and said, “Mona, be a woman. This is your husband; you must get used to obeying him. Go wash your face, put on clothes suitable for welcoming your husband, and apply some simple makeup—don’t overdo it.”

I tried to protest, but my mother’s look made it clear there was no room for objections.

So, I did as she asked, then went down to the living room, where Hossam was waiting. He took me to the guest room, where my mother was speaking to Faisal’s mother on the phone, with Faisal sitting across from her. I entered and greeted them, “Peace be upon you.”

Faisal stood up and replied, “Peace be upon you, too,” extending his hand to shake mine. I hesitated but eventually offered my hand, feeling it would be impolite to leave his hanging in the air. He held my hand gently and asked, “How are you?”

I pulled my hand back and replied, “I’m fine.” I sat down next to my mother, while Hossam sat next to Faisal.

Don’t ask me how he looked or what he was wearing because, honestly, all I could notice were the details of the guest room. I realized the floor needed replacing, the table’s leg needed cleaning, and there was a small stain on the far corner of the glass top. The tablecloth could also use more fabric to look better.

That was all I could focus on until my mother said, “Faisal’s mother wants to congratulate you.”

She spoke, and I kept replying, “Thank you, Auntie. God bless you.” I didn’t change my words at all, and I was genuinely grateful when she ended the call. But I was even more thankful when she asked to speak to Faisal.

My feet were glued to the floor, and my hand was stiff as I handed the phone to my mother. After speaking with Faisal’s mother, she gave the phone to Faisal, who immediately burst into laughter.

The reason for his laughter was obvious—his mother must have told him about my behavior.

But my horror movie wasn’t over yet. My sneaky brother asked for Faisal’s permission, took my mother with him, and left me alone with my fear.