The Wrong Wedding

Act-11

I followed him silently whilst taking in the hustle and bustle of the airport. My gaze kept wandering back to my hand in his grasp as he closely pulled me alongside him. I turned away with a gulp, trying not to think about it because it felt so normal, so easy, so comfortable. I sneaked a glance at him at the check-in, where he was showing my documents to the lady at the counter.

Why is he like this? Why is he being so caring and protective of me? And so gentle? This isn't what I had in my mind when I married him. I married him, mentally prepared to do everything on my own, without relying on him for anything at all. But here he is, taking care of the smallest of my things, like—like it's completely normal for him to do all this!

"Zaira." He called out and we went through the check-in procedure. In the midst of it he let go of my hand and I felt the loss, more intensely than I could imagine.

However, after we were done, he gently took my hand again and started pulling me alongside him once more. I tried to push down the giddiness rising in my chest and hammered it down vehemently.

I am not this precious, like he's treating me. Never before had I been treated in this manner. Someone so careful to my needs and so watchful of every single step I took. I felt weird. I was strong and independent. I did everything on my own and I was used to that only. But now, all this that he was doing was making me feel vulnerable. Weirdly enough, I didn't hate feeling this way. But that was the bad part. I felt like melting into his hands and sitting back comfortably as he took care of my every need. I felt myself wanting to act more like a helpless girl, someone who needed a man to protect her, to take care of her. Even though, since a very young age I was equipped to do everything on my own. I CAN do it all on my own. But....then why does this feel so nice and so right..?

I stole a glance at him who was still busy on call with someone. We were on our way to his house in the back of an uber, when he got a call from his grandparents.

"Yes, Nanna. Yes, she is here. No, you can't come. No...How is grandpa? Okay. Alright." I could hear the conversation on the phone but pretended not to while continuing to stare outside the window. Suddenly, he called me out.

I didn't have to ask him anything, since he  was holding out his phone for me. I watched between him and the phone for a moment.

"Nanna and Gramps wanted to talk to you..." He added slowly and I took the phone from his hand.

"Hello? Assalamualaikum?" My voice sounded timid on the phone to me.

"Walaikumusalam Zaira dear. How are you sweetie? Was the journey okay? You must be very tired. Did you catch any sleep at all? We wanted to come pick you up but Rayyan didn't tell us you both were coming today—" I listened to her, with an open mouth, ready to get a word in, when my gaze fell on Rayyan who had a half grin on his face and could probably hear everything Nanna was saying.

"Let the poor lass say something Ayeshe." I stifled a giggle as Grampa cut her off in the middle.

"Here give me the phone." I could hear them bickering back and forth and couldn't help but smile despite myself.

"Assalamualaikum Zaira? How are you dearie?" Grampa's solemn and kind voice sounded on the other side, this time. His voice was hoarse and it was easy to notice his ill-health.

"Walaikumusalam Grampa. I am good Alhumdulillah. Are you feeling better now?" I asked slowly. Even without looking up, I could sense him looking at me. It was making me self conscious for some reason.