He turned slightly, looking at her with a cold stare.
"What did you say?"
Huda instantly tensed up. She hadn't expected him to actually hear her.
With a stutter, she replied,
"N-no… nothing. I didn't say anything."
He nodded slowly, still staring at her in a way that made her swallow hard. His sharp eyes and sudden glances unsettled her. Then, he turned his head back forward, expression unreadable. She mirrored his movement, pretending to look ahead, even though her mind was in chaos from the tension he stirred in her.
It was like she'd never interacted with a man in her life — and truth be told, the one sitting next to her wasn't just any man.
Every now and then, she stole a glance at him. He hadn't moved an inch. He didn't even bother turning his head once. It was like he was frozen in one posture, completely unfazed.
She sighed. This whole thing felt ridiculous — like she was the main attraction at some zoo, on display for everyone to stare at. And the man sitting beside her? He looked as bored as death itself.
She looked at her family dancing and celebrating with joy. Some would stop by occasionally to take photos of her, smiles stretching wide — but none of it reached her.
She squinted at Adam and muttered under her breath,
"Tsk tsk tsk…"
He furrowed his brows, staring at her seriously, trying to figure out if she was tsk-ing at him or if he was imagining it.
She quickly followed up,
"Aren't you going to say it?"
Adam, confused:
"Say what?"
She rolled her eyes dramatically,
"You know… what grooms usually whisper into their bride's ear? Something romantic, so people can giggle and wonder, Ooh, what did he say?"
He raised an eyebrow at her, voice flat,
"No one told me about that part."
Huda (mocking):
"Oh really? What else didn't they tell you?"
He tilted his head slightly, gesturing toward her father and his own, seated nearby.
"See that man over there?"
Huda (curious):
"Your dad? What about him?"
Adam (seriously):
"Not my dad. I just work for him. He brought me here to fill in for his son — the one who refused to marry you. Didn't want to cause family drama, so here I am."
Huda burst out laughing, hands covering her mouth.
"Hah! That's a good one. You really came prepared. But no one enters the wedding bath and comes out dry — now you're in, and there's no backing out."
Her laughter faded as she noticed he wasn't smiling. His face stayed dead serious. The laugh died on her lips.
She swallowed and asked more quietly,
"And… the wedding night? What are we supposed to do then?"
Adam:
"Depends. If they pay me more, I'll go through that part for him too."
Huda (sincerely):
"And if they don't… I'll pay you myself. Just stay with me."
A hint of a smirk curved on his lips — a cold, faint smile.
Huda was just about to press him with more questions, maybe try to make sense of this entire bizarre situation, when the wedding attendants walked over, standing in front of her to help her up and take her to change.
---------
Huda gently held her dress from the sides as she prepared to descend the steps. Her legs were trembling beneath her, but she kept her chin high. The second outfit—a royal blue kaftan encrusted with gems—hugged her figure in all the right places, highlighting her golden tan. Her hair was styled in soft waves flowing down her shoulders, a delicate tiara resting like a crown on her head. She looked breathtaking.
The drums outside were pounding like a war cry, but inside her, a different battle raged.
As she walked toward the hall again, all eyes were on her. Cameras flashed, phones were raised, whispers echoed. The bride had returned—more radiant than ever.
Adam stood there, still as a statue, his gaze fixed ahead. He barely moved, as though none of this concerned him. His sharp jaw clenched ever so slightly, betraying the cold control on his face. Huda's eyes instinctively sought his, wondering if he'd look at her… but he didn't.
Inside, something tugged at her chest.
"Such a statue," she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes.
She heard footsteps behind her—Salmà catching up, her phone clutched tight, excitement dancing in her voice.
"You actually married him?" Salmà whispered, nearly squealing. "I still can't believe it! I mean… wow. He's too handsome to be real! Poor Anass, doesn't even compare to this man."
Huda pinched her arm gently, throwing her a glare to remind her of where they were—still surrounded by the ladies and the traditional singers.
As Huda adjusted her earrings, she whispered, "Get your phone and open Google."
Salmà blinked. "Why?"
"Just do it," Huda replied, voice firm.
Salmà, ever the curious friend, unlocked her phone. "Okay, what do I search?"
Huda leaned in: "Type in 'Iyad Al-Seddiqi' and go to images."
Salmà typed, frowning. "Who's that? Why are you looking him up?"
Huda didn't answer. She waited.
Moments later, Salmà's eyes widened. Her screen froze as she stared at the image in front of her.
"…This… this is your husband's father, right? And… his brother? Or is my brain lying to me?"
Huda grabbed the phone and zoomed into the image, her heart pounding. She recognized the man instantly. He hadn't lied. He had played her. Smoothly. Coldly.
She bit her lip to stifle a laugh, muttering, "You sly devil, Adam. You really thought you could fool me so easily?"
Salmà snapped out of her daze. "Wait… he's a minister? Huda, are you serious?"
Huda rolled her eyes as if it didn't matter. "Yeah… so?"
Salmà gasped, "So?! Girl, that's not just anyone! Do you even realize what that means—?"
Huda raised a brow, cocky and composed. "To you? Maybe it's a big deal. But me? My father's a politician too. So I belong in this circle."
Salmà swallowed, embarrassed. That class divide had always made her slightly uncomfortable—especially when Huda's pride reared its head like this. She nodded politely. "Well, I guess you two really do match. I hope it works out… seriously."
Huda squeezed her hand gently. "Amen, babe. And I hope you end up with some minister's son too… preferably not a former one."
Salmà smiled shyly. "Nah, I don't need all that. Give me a guy like Anass and I'll be just fine. Simple. Peaceful."
Huda sighed dramatically. "Salmaaaa, stop mentioning his name already. It's Anass this, Anass that. You're breathing his name more than oxygen today!"
Salmà laughed nervously, "Okay okay, I swear, I'll shut up. From now on, it's Sir Adam this, Master Adam that. Whatever keeps you from losing your cool, queen."
ـــــــــ
Salma, with a curious tone, asked,
"If his father is so well-known, why didn't you search him up from the beginning? Look up some photos or something? Would've saved us all the time we spent imagining what he might look like."
Huda looked at her as if reality had just slapped her in the face. How had she not thought of that? She'd been so caught off guard—just like she had when he'd tricked her with that joke.
"It completely slipped my mind… everything happened so fast. I was overwhelmed… You were there, you saw it all."
Salma nodded slowly, understanding. Just then, her phone rang, the screen lighting up. Her face flushed.
"I'll be right back," she said nervously, stepping out, leaving Huda alone, surrounded by the women preparing to escort her back to the hall.
The time had come.
Huda was led out of the bridal room by the traditional singers, their vibrant voices echoing through the corridor. They paused briefly near the groom's room, waiting for him to come out so they could make their entrance together.
It didn't take long before the door opened. And there he was.
Adam stepped out, adjusting the collar of his traditional jellaba. It was tailored perfectly for his broad frame, giving him a composed and powerful appearance. When he lifted his head, he saw Huda and the women standing there. He gave a respectful nod and moved toward her, stopping right beside her.
Just as he was about to continue walking, he felt someone take his hand.
He looked down, surprised, and saw one of the women gently placing Huda's hand into his. It was the cue—they were to enter the hall hand-in-hand.
His eyes dropped to their joined hands. Hers was small in his, warm and slightly trembling. His own was cold, steady. The contrast made something stir inside him.
Huda, too, was battling emotions she couldn't quite name. Her heart pounded against her chest. Was it nerves? Fear? Excitement? Maybe all three. She could feel the sweat on her palm, but she didn't pull away.
They walked into the hall together, hand in hand, under the eyes of dozens of guests. Cameras flashed, phones recorded—it looked like a perfect, loving couple entering as one. But neither said a word.
They were stopped for a moment as the traditional singers performed for them. Then came the moment she had been waiting for—the Amariya.
Adam refused to be lifted with her. Despite the efforts of the men offering to carry him, and even his family insisting, he declined. Instead, he stood below, allowing only Huda to rise above.
And rise she did.
They lifted her on the Amariya, circling the entire room as music roared around them. She waved gracefully, her shoulders swaying with the beat. In that moment, she looked like she was floating—free, glowing, radiant. If someone had walked in right then, they'd never think she had been married off against her will.
They handed her a beautifully decorated Taarija (traditional drum), and she happily played along with the rhythm. Every beat she struck felt like a release of tension, a celebration of her own. They spun her, lifted her again and again, and she couldn't stop laughing—lost in the moment.
At one point, they brought her closer to where Adam was standing. They lowered the Amariya to his height and gestured for him to come closer.
He stood in front of her, staring up at her glowing, laughing face. She looked like she was truly enjoying herself. But as soon as their eyes met, she looked away quickly—like the moment was too intense to hold.
The women encouraged him to move closer, to kiss her forehead as tradition required. He did so, gently placing a kiss on her brow, then pulled back quietly as they snapped more pictures.
After that, they both ascended the stage together, side by side, now seated on the bridal throne.
To be continued....