‘OK, what did you mean by, “There’s more to marriage than love and attraction”?’ He quotes the message without glancing at his phone, probably because he’s read it so many times it’s forever etched in his memory.
‘I meant that marriage is about more than love. It’s about respect. Loyalty. Partnership.’
‘OK. Let’s say that’s true. Why are you telling this to Adam? I thought he was just a friend?’
A shudder runs through my body as I try to figure out how much of the truth I need to tell him. Does he need to know how torn I’ve been feeling? How Hamza has been tugging on one arm, Adam on the other, and how I feel as if my entire body is about to be ripped in half? No, he won’t want to hear that. I decide to offer up the bare bones of the story.
‘I thought he was a friend. But I bumped into him last night and he told me that he wants to be with me.’
‘And is that when he kissed you?’ The indifference turns to anger here, and he practically spits the question out. I flinch, each word like a bullet with no exit, embedding itself into my flesh forever.
‘No! Hamza, please, I swear to God there’s nothing going on between me and Adam!’
‘Tell me about the kiss.’ He looks straight ahead, as if my face alone repulses him, and I resist the urge to throw up all over the leather upholstery.
‘Hamza, there really is no point. It was a long time ago so please trust me! We can move on from this. I’m sorry, I should have told you. I didn’t want to hurt or lose you when it meant nothing to me.’
‘Tell me about the kiss,’ he repeats, his face completely expressionless, like stone. ‘Was it while we’ve been together?’
‘It was a joke, Hamza. A ruse to let Tariq think I was happily married.’
‘Tariq? What the hell has he got to do with any of this?’ Hamza turns red, his fair complexion betraying his emotions. I know I have to put him out of his misery no matter how difficult it is for me, so I tell him about how we went for dinner, how Tariq was there, how Adam told him we were married, kissed me to highlight how I had moved on, how I found the strength to confront Tariq and pour the drink over him, how Adam punched him. I leave out all the details that will hurt him; how I felt like I was floating after that kiss, the charged atmosphere in the sexy restaurant, the way I dressed up, how he picked me up in a Porsche, the chemistry between us, the emptiness I felt when I went home. The heartbreak when he disappeared. Telling him that would be rubbing chilli powder into the open gash.
There’s a long silence after he processes all of this. He sighs, and I can tell that he sort-of understands how it all came to be, giving me a glimmer of hope. Maybe this isn’t it, then. Maybe my marriage isn’t over before it began. I tentatively reach out for his hand; he lets me take it and it sits limp in my own.
‘Hamza, wallahi I am so, so sorry,’ I whisper, hanging on to his hand like a lifeline. ‘I never meant to kiss Adam, or let him kiss me. I only let him do it because I wanted so much for Tariq to see me happily married. I wanted him to know that he didn’t break me, even though he did, for so many years. In any other circumstance, I would never have gone along with it. Please, please believe me.’
Another long, torturing silence follows, and I wait it out, my breath stuck somewhere in my throat. This is it, the moment of truth. All this time I’ve been so unsure about marrying Hamza, but now that I’m confronted with the possibility of losing him, I know for sure that this is who I want. I want a man who listens to me and processes what I say instead of flying off the handle. A man who knows how to control his emotions and doesn’t let himself be led by pride. I want him.
‘OK,’ he says simply and I’m so relieved that I throw my arms around him. My face buried into his chest, I breathe in deeply, inhaling his familiar scent. A tear leaks out of my eye, travels down my cheek and falls onto his T-shirt and I stay like this, as another tear joins it, and another one, until there’s a wet patch on his chest. It takes a while but he finally turns his body and puts his arm around me and we sit like this for ages, without needing to speak.
I have to leave eventually, to go back inside the house and get ready, but I feel like shit. I’m well aware of the fact that I’ve dodged a bullet here and I know it’s time to bury any feelings I have for Adam, forever. Unless I want to lose Hamza. He might not be quite as understanding next time.
*
When I walk into the house it’s gone eight, and my mum and Nani are up and cooking up a storm. Today’s party is small, literally our closest family and friends only, but even then, there will be around fifty people and Mum has insisted on cooking for them herself. Yasmin and Amina are also up, decorating the house and garden with flowers, balloons, streamers and fairy lights. It’s coming along nicely and by the time the guests start arriving at six, I’m sure it will all look amazing.
Since I’m the bride, the only thing that’s expected of me is to look good, but right now it looks like I won’t even manage that. The glimpse I caught of myself in the hallway mirror was pretty shocking; I’m more like the corpse bride with massive dark circles, blotchy skin and greasy hair. I don’t have the energy or inclination to do anything about it, though. How can I, after everything that’s been going on? Hamza nearly broke up with me! And I know things seem to be on the mend, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not completely in the clear.
‘What happened to you?’ Amina asks, emerging from the living room and then stopping in her tracks when she sees my face. ‘Are you still messed up after last night?’
She follows me as I proceed to tell her what happened with the text and she listens intently, her eyes wide with horror.
‘Holy shit,’ she breathes. ‘Thank God Hamza has forgiven you. Can you imagine if he called the whole thing off?’
‘I don’t want to imagine that, thank you very much! I’m stressed enough as it is!’
‘So you’ve finally chosen him, then? Adam is out of your system, once and for all?’
‘He’s out. It’s taken me a while, I know, but I finally get it.’ I say this firmly, but as I do, my heart hurts. I may have chosen Hamza, and I may know that it’s the right decision, but that doesn’t stop the pain of knowing that I’ve lost Adam, as a friend more than anything else.
‘Good,’ she says, frowning. ‘Now what are you going to do about your face?’
‘I don’t know!’ I wail, covering it up with my hands.
‘Leave it to me.’ She turns around and heads back downstairs, while I continue to my room and throw myself onto my bed. The sheets need changing, the carpet needs hoovering, and everything else needs a good dusting, but I don’t know where I’m going to gather the strength from. All I can do is think about what I’ve lost – and gained – and everything in between.
I don’t realise I’ve fallen asleep until Yasmin comes into my room a couple of hours later, carrying a tray.