Adeiba

The clock ticked past 12. I was sitting on the bed that still smelled faintly of flowers—the same flowers that were spread across it two nights ago for a wedding night that never happened.
I wonder if he’ll come home tonight or not *I murmur to myself, staring blankly at the door.

It’s been two days since the nikah. Two whole days of being someone’s wife, without a single conversation with my husband. I still remember how, right after the ceremony, he left for a sudden business trip. No proper goodbye, no explanation. My sweet mother-in-law, who lives just two floors down in the same building, had stayed with me that night—kind, gentle, making sure I didn't feel completely alone. But now, it’s just me, and the silence feels heavier tonight.

I reach for my phone, finally deciding to call him—to speak to my husband for the very first time. Just as I unlock the screen, there’s a knock on the door. My heart skips. I walk to the door slowly, peek through the peephole—and it’s him. Standing there.

I open the door slowly, my heart confused between relief and frustration. There he is—tall, well-built handsome man, dressed in a leather jacket, looking like he stepped out of a movie. I’m happy to see him. But I won’t show it. Not yet*
Ohh... you’re home I say in a dry, sarcastic tone, trying to keep my expression flat

I thought you had forgotten you were married. I continue, voice still laced with sarcasm, gathering every ounce of boldness I have to lecture a man I haven’t even spoken to before

Is this how it’s always gonna be? I ask, this time calmly, looking straight at him, waiting for an answer. The good thing is—he looks apologetic