Tears trailed down his cheeks, slowly falling into the depths of sorrow that ached his numbed chest, heart throbbing at the pain his life entailed him to. Nicholas gasped a sob back, forehead to the ground as his  lips whispered the calming hum of Allah's words, as his mind tuned to his prayer, his salvation. 

His heart broke over and over and over again, a continuous cycle of trying to win his parents' favor only to be shot with bullets in the end. He fell in love with a girl, with a religion, with his new life, yet they sought to bury him under disappointment and regrets like coils tightening around his neck, suffocating his desire to live, to breathe.

Lifting his head from the floor, he continued whispering prayers in a low breath, asking Allah to bless him like He did for the prophets. He continued asking for forgiveness, asking for a chance at redemption, begging for his freedom. In some twisted way, Nicholas was enslaved to his past, and the chains only began to rattle when he said his salaams to the angels on his shoulders, signalling the end of Isha (night prayer). 

Two weeks ago, he took full management of the marketing department of his father's work, the Muller family business. His parents disowned him, but he still invited them to his wedding, a date set for tomorrow. 

Why am I sad?

He would marry the girl of his dreams, the keeper of his heart, the love of his life, yet the heavy ballast on his chest refused to budge. It churned painfully across the hard edges of his body, an acute, sharp pain igniting the nerves. How Nicholas wished he could see Dina right at that moment, to hear her lilting voice tempt him away from reality, to stare into her mesmerizing eyes for all eternity, basking in her addictive personality, her beauty, her smiles. 

The doors to the masjid creaked open as two men stumbled in, whispering to each other as grins decorated their lips like ornaments during the holiday season. Haroon and Humaid caught Nicholas's eyes, grins widening as they walked towards him. 

"Assalamualaikum, Nick!" exclaimed Humaid, waving. 

Haroon nudged his twin in the rib.

"Ow!" he yelped, rubbing at his torso and glaring at his brother. "What was that for?"

"We're in a masjid, you fool. Lower your voice."

"You make a compelling argument," joked Humaid, a twinkle of mischievous intentions in his eyes. "We wouldn't want a repeat of our childhood days."

Haroon scowled. "This is exactly why I never bring you to pray with me."

Before Humaid could sass his brother any more than he already did, Nicholas leaned back on the palms of his hand behind him, smiling at the men who continued to bicker like a couple of school children, blue eyes brightening at the sight of his friends. 

Friends, he thought. Not just strangers or my brother-in-laws, but my friends, my allies in Islam. 

"Just a rule of thumb," interrupted Nicholas with a coy grin. "Maybe you should let the other person respond back to your salaams before you guys argue."

 Humaid chuckled deeply, kneeling beside Nicholas. "Well, sport, you're really learning the Muslim ways better than us."

Following his brother's actions, Haroon sat on the other side of Nicholas, meticulously observing the redness of Nicholas's eyes. Unlike Humaid, Haroon analyzed his surroundings, searching for a purpose in everything and a solution to every problem. He deduced a situation through observation like a detective. 

From Nicholas's puffy eyes, weary smile, and tired voice, Haroon caught up to speed quickly, a hand holding his shoulder. "Is something bothering you, Nick?" he asked softly.

Humaid raised a brow before he too realized something was wrong. Concern etched the portrait of their visages, shading their cheeks in shadows and dappled light from a late night luster that shone through creaks in the windows like glowing stripes. Hope drew itself from across the contrast and into Nicholas's mind. 

These were his friends, the men who comforted him during dark days. They, like their sister, always knew the right words for dreadful times. 

He sighed. "That obvious, huh?" he chuckled to himself.

Haroon's gaze softened, a warm hazel on a cold night. "Well, it is the day before your Nikkah, and you're moping in a masjid," he said. "Are you nervous about tomorrow?"

"Yes and no."

The brothers exchanged glances with one another, confusion written all across their faces, brows furrowed. Nicholas noticed their expressions, realizing how uneasy it was to hear the groom-to-be sound uncertain about his future.

"It's not what you're thinking," he quickly amended, causing the tension to release from their held breaths.

"Nick, don't scare us like that," said Humaid, feigning pain in his chest. "You straight up gave me a mini cardiac arrest."

"Don't worry," assured Nicholas. "Marrying Dina is the one thing I'm absolutely sure of."

"So, what's on your mind tonight?" asked Haroon.

Nicholas shrugged, toying with hem of his thobe. "My parents might not come to my wedding," he whispered. "They would rather I wasn't a Muslim at all."

"Do you want to marry Dina?" questioned Haroon, eyes intense and unreadable.

"More than anything in the world."

Humaid grinned, nudging Nicholas's shoulder with his. "Then let them talk. Let them stay angry because if this is something you feel is right, then don't let anyone tell you otherwise. You and Dina are about embark on a new journey together, and yeah, it's going to be rough, but that's life."

"Humaid is right," agreed Haroon. "It's hard for parents to accept their own faults or changes in their children's lives. I know it's not an excuse, but your parents are human too. Give them time, and be patient. In Shaa Allah (If God wills it), everything will work out."

Although Nicholas heard these words a million times, they still lifted the burden off his shoulders with soothing words, a minty balm against his vicious family burns. The pain, the suffering, the constant stress all dissipated once Nicholas realized that he had done everything in his power to appeal to his parents. 

Keep trying, he thought, and be patient.

Haroon's soft voice broke his train of thoughts. "Isn't it funny how Dina is getting married before us, Humaid?" he asked his brother, a wistful longing circling his hazel eyes. "Our little sister is so grown up."

Humaid smiled fondly at some memory. "Kinda sucks, doesn't it?" he said more to himself, leaning back on his arms. "We always thought we could be her knight in shining armors, that we could protect her from everything."

His heart lurched at the sadness in their voices, the silent wish to return to a time where innocence reigned against evil intentions, where the fangs of a cruel world did not sink into a child. 

These siblings had a bond so close that the thought of one's marriage opened the gates of a new path, a new life where the baby bird flew from the nest and into the hands of fate. Their love secured their family, secured their stability. Marriage meant growing up.

As Dina's eldest brothers, how could Nicholas expect them to feel joy when they would no longer be her heroes, when he would sit on the throne of her heart instead? 

"You two really love her," whispered Nicholas in awe. 

Humaid laughed softly. "You should have seen our father last night. He stayed outside her room and wept for hours to himself, just praying to Allah over and over again."

Nicholas's eyes widened. "W-What?" he spluttered. "If I knew marriage would hurt your family, I wouldn't have asked so abruptly."

Haroon shook his head. "It's not your fault, Nick," he assured, eyes lost in his own memories. "It's just hard for us. She's the first Younes sibling to marry, and the first marriage in a family is always the hardest."

Harshly wiping the tears from his eyes, Haroon inhaled a shaky breath, readjusting his glasses as if he didn't lapse into his feelings. His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed a lump in his throat. Never had Nicholas seen Haroon look so disheveled and lost like a piece of him was lost, like he stabbed his friend without knowing.

As the friends sat in a masjid together after Isha (night prayer), the moon smiled down upon them, a stripe of light creating a realm of peace and acceptance around them. Most Americans spent their bachelor nights in clubs, drinking, grinding, and partying till they forgot the world around them and relished one last night of being single men, but not devoted Muslims.

Muslims catered to their brotherhood, nurturing it with an everlasting friendship connected by Allah, brought together by Islam's most profound principles. That night, the Younes twins and Nicholas were each other's crutches during crippled times. 

That was until the ever so lovely Elijah called.

----

That was only part one of bachelor night. Elijah is the key to part two. *hint hint*

Trust me, the next chapter will be funny and full of jokes to lighten up their moods. Sorry for the late chapter though. I promised you guys weekly updates, but these past two weeks have been rough with my driver's license. 

I hope you can forgive me >.< 

How cute are these set of friends though? Dina is so lucky.

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