Glory of the Midnight Sun √

Four

"The most beautiful in the world was my own funeral."

Fariya

"Fariya Ali Sikandar Binte Ali Sikandar, you are given in the Nikah of Omer Ahmed Lashari Bin Ahmed Lashari, with 10 Lakh Rs as your mehr, do you accept it?"

The voice reached her ears, it was loud and clear, but her mind did not process it. It could not process it. Her mind was too blank to even comprehend what was going on around her, the only things it could process was the sight of her beloved father lying on a bed, his hand in hers, his eyes on her.

She was looking straight in his eyes, not even blinking. There was no expression on her angelic face, no light in her hazel eyes. The Mowlana was repeating the same sentence for the second time when she heard a sound, a feeble sound.

"Fariya?"

The voice of her father reached her and she closed her eyes, a small attempt to get away from this chaos. She opened her eyes and let the tears fall from her eyes freely, not even caring that every eye in the room was on her.

The Mowlana again repeated for the third and the last time, his voice harder this time. She was immersed in her thoughts when she felt a pressure on her right hand, a hand which was holding her father. She looked down at her father's hand and then back at his eyes.

And after a pronlonged moment which was spent looking at her father's eyes, which held so many hopes and requests, Fariya finally said the words and even the walls of the room wailed and cried.

"I do."

Her voice, trembling. Her body, shaking. Her heart, dying. Her soul, aching.

She repeated the same words three times before the Mowlana asked her to sign the papers. He placed the papers in front of her and gave her a pen, pointing somewhere at the papers. Fariya took the pen with trembling hands and looked at the place where Mowlana was pointing.

She signed the papers with quivering hands and then the Mowlana took the papers from her and passed them to the black-eyed man sitting in front of her. Fariya did not dare lift her eyes, she just kept looking at his hands, mainly because she did not know where to look at otherwise.

His hands were perfect and had it been some other time, she would have appreciated them. But now, things were a mess and she was a chaos-admiring his hands was not in the option.

Her thoughts still roamed around the water she was in when she heard Molvi Sahab pronouncing words.

Starting with the name of Allah, he wished the new couple every success and every happiness in life. He blessed them for the life they were going to start, for the future they were going to share.

Everybody in the room including Fariya followed the Mowlana, but unlike the Mowlana, she did not pray for happiness or success, instead she asked for strength. Strength to deal with the current situation, to face all the challenges life has thrown at her.

After she was done with the prayer, she looked at her father who was also looking at her, his gaze as soft as ever. Fariya passed him a smile, her very small yet beautiful smile. Taking his hands in hers, she bent her head and kissed his knuckles slightly.

Her father also smiled at her and placed his other hand on her head. "I'm pro.. proud.. of you, Fari!" On hearing those words, she straightened herself and again looked at him, a small smile still etched upon her face.

They were looking at each other when the older man, the father of the groom, came to stand beside his son and took her father's other hand in his hands and kissed it gently. The both men smiled at each other, a full and bright smile.