Clash Of Cultures

Epilogue

Noor

Salman held my hair back as I bent over the sink in our bathroom. The nausea was especially bad today...and as usual, since I actually hadn't been able to eat anything, nothing came out. When I straightened up he held me by my waist and effortlessly hoisted me on to the bathroom countertop, positioning himself between my bare legs. 

"I'm sorry you're going through this", he said, as he took a wet washcloth and gently wiped my face and then my neck. 

"You...should be! You are 100% responsible for this...", I jokingly frowned at him. 

"Biologically, I'm only 50% responsible, but if it makes you feel any better, I can take responsibility for seducing you in the first place", he flashed his gorgeous smile at me making me forget that my hormones were wreaking havoc inside me. 

"Stop distracting me with that smile", I told him, trying to push him away to no avail. 

"Hmmm...I think I know how to make you feel better...", Salman winked, pulling me closer as he unbuttoned my shirt, which was really his shirt, and planted slow kisses on my neck. 

And he was right, my nausea, the backache, the constant feeling of being bloated were all gone in an instant. 

"Are you seriously not wearing a bra?", He groaned, "Noor, you are killing me right now"

"My boobs are swollen", I whined.

"Ok, that's it! We are going back to bed...", he said lifting me off the counter. 

"No...we are not", I replied, giving him a quick peck on his lips, "You are going to be late for your weekend call and I have to work on my fellowship applications. Besides, what we do in bed is why I feel crappy in the first place"

"You know you can't get more pregnant than you already are, right?", Salman pouted as he let me go, "I'm not letting you go tonight though"

"Works for me!", I grinned back at him. 

I stepped out of the bathroom and grabbed my laptop, before getting back into bed and propping myself up with pillows. Salman walked out in just his boxers and I watched as he put on a clean pair of scrubs. 

How did I get so lucky? 

I smiled to myself and placed my hand on my lower abdomen, silently telling my unborn child, 'You and me both...little one'

It had been almost a year since he had run out our front door, asking me to marry him the next day. Which is not exactly what happened, because while our parents were agreeable to our marriage, they were after all desi parents and insisted on making formal arrangements and inviting family and friends from around Chicago. And this time we mailed out actual paper invites to the guests, not just evites!

So we got married two weeks later, and had a blast. Our families got along better than I had expected, despite some awkward silences. My parents, especially my dad had seemed to have forgotten all about Omar and how I had messed up his long-term friendship, and embraced Salman wholeheartedly. My brother was especially ecstatic that he had found a buddy to play Fortnite with. And Salman, as charming as he was, fit right in to my family as if he was meant to be a part of it. I smiled remembering what my mom had said to me one day.

"It doesn't matter if Salman has strained relations with his own family. We are his family now!"

Our friends from residency had never been to a desi wedding before and were mesmerized by the color and food, but perhaps most of all of how loud the wedding was. We had a 'small' wedding ceremony, which was about a 150 people altogether in Chicago.