ARMAAN
I fixed my silver cufflinks, ensuring they aligned perfectly with the hem of my sleeves. The soft clink of the metal against my wrist echoed in the quiet room. I stepped back, taking a moment to assess myself in the full-length mirror. I was wearing a pearly white thobe with black embroidery on the cuffs and neckline. The black bisht that came with it was draped across my bed; it had subtle white accents that matched the thobe perfectly. Ummi had helped me tie the keffiyeh neatly on my head, though a few stubborn strands of hair peeked out.
I draped the bisht over my arm, deciding I’d wear it later. Pairing the traditional attire with black-and-white Nike sneakers might have seemed unconventional, but it was my style. A little bit of kohl around my eyes completed the look, adding a subtle intensity to my gaze.
Jogging down the stairs, I was reminded that we were already late. Ummi, however, had insisted that arriving late was better. I still didn’t understand her reasoning, but I knew better than to question it.
As I descended the staircase, Ummi greeted me with a warm smile. The women were supposed to wear an abaya or a thobe for the gathering, and Ummi had opted for the latter. She was dressed in a stunning black thobe with silver floral patterns at the cuffs, and a gold headpiece sat elegantly on her hijab-adorned head. Despite wearing no makeup, she looked as beautiful as ever.
Too bad Baba wasn’t here to see it.
She quickly slipped on her black flats before standing up and pulling me into a hug.
“You look beautiful, Aalim. I’m happy to see you in a kundura after so long, mashaAllah,” she said, hugging me again.
“Shukran, Ummi. But you’re the one who looks beautiful. Too bad you’re married; you would’ve stolen some hearts at this gathering,” I teased, earning a playful smack on the head as she dragged me to the car.
The drive to Mersey Event Center took longer than expected, thanks to the traffic. I was sure half of the people stuck in it were my family members.
Mersey Event Center, owned by our cousin Suleiman, was our go-to venue for any family event. The exterior featured sleek glass windows and ornate pillars, giving it a grand and modern look. Inside, the hall was a mix of gold and silver, with the aroma of delicious food filling the air. I would be lying if I said my mouth wasn’t watering.
The parking lot was packed to the brim, but I managed to find a spot. Ummi fussed over my keffiyeh and insisted I wear the bisht. I groaned but did as I was told.
Once inside, the noise and energy of the event hit me. The hall was already filled with relatives, family friends, and familiar faces. Ummi wasted no time in dragging me around, greeting everyone she knew. We were quickly pulled into conversations with relatives and family friends, each one more exhausting than the last.
As we navigated through the crowd, I caught sight of a group of my female cousins. They were dressed elegantly in abayas of various colors, their laughter ringing out as they chatted. One of them, Aisha, noticed me first and waved enthusiastically.
“Armaan! MashaAllah, look at you!” she called out, her smile wide.
I grinned back, feeling a warmth in my chest. “Aisha, you’re still the life of the party, I see,” I replied, earning a round of giggles from her and the others.
They continued to tease me, their playful comments lightening the atmosphere as they pointed out how tall I had grown and how I’d become ‘too handsome for my own good.’ I exchanged a few more smiles and laughs with them before Ummi gently tugged me away.
Before long, we bumped into Aunt Siddiqa, who looked me up and down before breaking into a wide grin, she conversed with me and ummi a little of her arrogance and selfishness was evident, thus our conversation with her was summarised into. “MashaAllah, Aalim, you’ve grown into such a handsome young man! You’d be perfect for my daughter Aliya,” she gushed, not-so-subtly suggesting an arranged match.
Ummi gave her a tight-lipped smile, clearly uninterested. “InshaAllah, when the time is right,” she replied diplomatically before quickly steering me away. Once we were out of earshot, she leaned in and whispered, “Stay clear of her, Aalim. She’s been on a mission to marry off Aliya to any breathing male relative.”
I chuckled at her bluntness, grateful for the escape. As we continued to weave through the crowd, Ummi suddenly stopped, her eyes lighting up as she spotted someone.
“Well, if it isn’t Fatima,” Ummi said warmly, approaching a woman I hadn’t noticed in the crowd. The woman turned around, and I immediately recognized her as one of Ummi’s best friend, the memory was foggy but I knew ummi loved her dearly.
“Aalim, do you remember your aunty Fatima?” Ummi asked, smiling.
Aunty Fatima, who had a friendly, open face, smiled at me. “You’ve grown so tall, Aalim. MashaAllah, you’re almost unrecognizable!” she said with a laugh.
I returned her smile, but confusion clouded my expression. I didn’t remember her, though something about her did seem vaguely familiar.
Fatima noticed my confusion and chuckled. “Don’t worry, it’s been a long time since you last saw me. But maybe you’ll recognize my daughter.”
“Your daughter?” I asked, trying to recall any memories associated with her family.
“Yes, my daughter. You used to play together when you were little. I’m sure you’ll remember her when you see her,” Fatima said, her tone teasing.
I gave her a polite smile, though I was more puzzled than ever. “I’m sorry, I really don’t remember…”
Aunty Fatima laughed again, waving off my concern. “It’s alright, Aalim. It’s been years. But let’s see if we can jog your memory. Tahbeer, come here!” aunty Fatima called out, her voice carrying over the chatter.
I turned my head to see who she was calling, and my heart nearly skipped a beat when I saw her.
It was her.
Abidat!!
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Okay I know I know its short but I'm my defence I updated twice today so clap for me yayyy.
Now I'm pretty sure just of you guys have guessed this already but if you haven't you should wait for the next chapter for more to be revealed.
I'm seriously sugar deprived any suggestions of what I should eat, I'm tired of milo and I ain't a big fan of milk.
*Sighs dramatically while sipping more bubble tea*
Any who I'm hoping you guys enjoyed this.
PLEASE vote and comment and share with your friends.
Bye guys.
Also just wanted you guys to know a thobe is for both male and female its just the females own is somewhat like an abaya dress while the males own is like a jallabiya
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Currently Mrs aalim.
(^з^)-☆