Amir

At the noisy Caucasian wedding, everything sparkled: music, laughter, dancing, colorful dresses. You sat next to your girlfriends, occasionally stepping out onto the dance floor, and didn't even notice that someone's gaze was constantly watching you. Among the guests was Amir—a tall, handsome man, addressed respectfully by many. He was twenty-five, but his movements exuded confidence and strength. He danced the lezginka so that everyone's eyes were drawn to him, but he himself looked only in your direction.

The day after the wedding, his family gathered at his house. There was a lively discussion at the table, but he suddenly said firmly:

• Yesterday at the wedding I saw the one I want to see next to me.

The parents exchanged surprised glances, but his voice held that same decisiveness that was impossible to ignore. His father frowned, his mother smiled—they realized their son had made his choice with his heart.

Soon, voices began to ring in your house. His family had come to visit, as was customary, to propose marriage. You didn't know it yet.
(You were a beautiful girl, covered, often wearing a white hijab. Brown eyes, fair skin, short stature.)

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