Assalam.o.Alaikum!
Why is the story not getting much reads I wonder. Am I bad at writing?
Can't you people make a writer happy by appreciating their work,their efforts? :(
You could do the most by sharing the story, putting a vote or even commenting.

Durre:

When we heard about the sad demise of Khadijah's mother, I tried being as close to her as possible. She had encapsulated herself as if culpable for the sudden accidental death aunty faced. And as for me and Ma'arij, she had later disclosed that it was all a part of her pulling my leg and that she didn't intend to disown her own best friend during her wedding, only I had thought the other way around.

Sipping on the cold coffee, I calculated on my fingers exactly how many days were left  of my spinsterhood . One, two, three, and that's it. Our wedding was in a time of just three days now! Just three little freaking days!!

Yellow paste of ubtan/haldi was applied everywhere on my body except the secret parts, lol, I was wearing a white simple shalwar qamees with a beautiful embroidered floral designs on a bright yellow dupatta which was resting on my head and secured by many bobby pins. Yellow flowers were my ornaments, though I hated it's smell but that was again a ritual to be performed so I had no excuse nor any escape.

I reminisced on all the moments I had spent in my home, all the sweet memories and some heartbreaking ones too... I knew my father that he loved me a lot, and for sure I was going to miss his shoutings and scoldings just for no reason. It was like a habit of him,but I knew that it was for my own good. He used to ask me to pray on time though I was habitual on prayers but sometimes laziness took best hold of me and I delayed my prayers so that were the times when he shouted at me, He shouted at me whenever I left my room untidy after waking up and not assorting the bed properly removing the creases from bedsheet and leaving my stuff around the room here and there. And my mother as every other desi mother used to scold me whenever I made excuses not to wash dishes or do the laundry or any house chores .

I was for sure going to miss it all.

The little petty fights between us siblings, I had two younger brothers but they always acted as if they were my elder brothers. We fought, we played, we cried we laughed. Anything which was supposed to be bought for me had also all due rights to be bought for them and they always preached equality in front of my parents so that they always get the equal share of whatever I get. So I just joked around them yesterday that I am getting married now so they should also get married and both of them made disgusting faces saying that they had " many important tasks " to finish off before getting roped up with someone and that made me laugh very hard.

The way my younger brother made fun of me whenever I used hand gestures while speaking, the way he resembled so much to me in everything , the way we fought taking sides of each other and letting the other one be alone, the way we created and played different games like bhoot room(ghost room) and statue etc. I was going to miss them. A single drop of tear left my eye and it moved it's way from the covering of yellow paste until it settled at my chin.

The way we had used funny names for each other, and the way we united together whenever we had to demand something from abbu and whenever I cried he laughed and he cried I laughed. Oh Allah...

But again the memories were always positive and negative. It was now the turn of negative memories to play in front of ny eyes as if all was playing live.

Her: Do you think this colour would suit on me?

Him: Umm, nopes.

Her: Why?

Him: Because I say so.

Her: And who are you to say me this?

Him: You better know.

Her: And what if I don't ?

Him: Then let me tell you, I am your everything.

Adjusting the red dupatta of my bridal lehenga on my head, I was checking out in what style that would suit better and that brought out some bitter moments of the past in the sweetness of now's. I sighed grievously , and removed the dupatta when ammi entered my room.

' Ma sha Allah beta this colour looks enchanting on you. '

You look enchanting in this colour .

Past was haunting me. And I had no refuge except for shutting my eyes tightly for a brief second and then opening it again, though I wished for it to disappear into thin air but it didn't . It even got stronger by each passing minute.

' Look at me beta, the colour suiting you reminds me of myself when I was a bride. Your nani had said the same words to me. And we even look almost the same. '

She came forward hugging me and held my head gently to place a feather like kiss on the top of it. She patted , and then again kissed my cheeks this time then wept.

That was when I was shaken out of the past horrors and brought into the present. I needed to be happy at any cost . I cannot let my demons win over me, I need to be strong. I need to be.

" No ammi. Don't cry. It's a tradition na, even nani bid you farewell so now it's your turn to bid me goodbye. And in future when I'll have a daughter... "

She looked into my eyes lovingly and affirmatively as if my words were soothing her, though any words which left my mouth were again correlating to the horrendous past I had hidden inside of me.

I swallowed hard and then continued.

" When I'll have a daughter of my own I'll too bid her farewell one day In sha Allah. You should be happy ammi your daughter has found a right man of deen. "

I smiled the real one thinking of Dr.Saaleh. But then, I began thinking and stressing about if and or should I tell him about my past.

Will he be understanding ,

Will he compromise,

Will he love me still,

Will he accept me for who I am now?

Will my past finally be left away behind?

Will I be able to tell him everything that I confide within me... Will he be able to forgive me?

Will he accept me as his wife wholeheartedly or would I be a burden on him?

These questions swarmed my head and few silent tears again dropped down my eyes. Ammi took me in her embrace thinking that I got emotional, but inside me was another havoc I was facing hardships with.

Khadijah:

It had been two days since mother passed away, two days containing forty eight hours, two days persisting my miseries, two days since the home felt like a haunted house to me, two days since I lost the only parent and life support I had in my life and two days since I had started living in Nadir's house.

Strangely, Nadir had softened around me quite a much and behaved as a gentleman. May be it was the aftermath of my mother's demise or something else which God had destined , I just didn't know anything right now. It felt so wrong to live with them.

I don't know why.

I felt... A bit awkward . Nadir's mother was treating me as if I am her own daughter. All was so sudden and so strange.

I hadn't prayed any salah since two days and two days had been for me like a huge mountain on my head.

Every time the door opened either it was Nadir or his mom,bringing different food stuff to have my appetite filled but I denied I didn't feel to eat since my mom's death. I was getting terrible hunger pangs but I was restrained , I was calming my mind and my soul to feed on memories my mother left for me.

I never knew it would be this hard for me after accepting Islam. It would be so difficult that I'd have to struggle for offering prayers without getting caught. I'd need to hide a Quran in my school bag so that nobody dares to search inside it. I had to talk to nonmehrams freely, I had to show my hair, I had to dance, I had to party and even almost I was forced to drink today as Nadir was sayibg that drinking champagne can calm your worries... Maybe I had the wrong idea of him, he still hadn't changed. But I wonder why did he kept his mouth shut when he saw me praying with his own eyes?

As this was night time and everyone here had the schedule of sleeping by nine so I had spread out my prayer mat , performed wadhu and stood facing the qibla. I had installed the namaz app on my phone so that I do not miss important details about namaz and about when to pray and of course the direction of qibla(the mosque where muslim face themselves before standing in my prayer wherever they are in the world).

I prayed for all the missed prayers since two days slowly and rhythmically , one by one letting peace take over me. First I raised my hand up to say Allahu Akbar and the feeling of servitude took over me I felt blessed to be have this honour to pray, I felt my Rabb had chosen me specially to pray, so that I can live in an eternal abode of which Allah has promised that beneath which rivers flow, and the Gardens, and all the jewels and that whatever desired would be granted. I focused my thoughts on the meaning behind each word of recital, goosebumps on my skin whenever I read an ayah that translated as We worship You and Your aid we seek. This kept repeating until I was finished with my last of today's isha prayer. I sighed tiredly as a human nature but then I soon mumbled astaghfaar and then bowed down in sujood to talk to Allah. I had been waiting since long to talk to him.

Ya Allah!

And then I found loss of ability to say any words just tears started streaming and wetting my prayer mat but I didn't bother much for that,because my tears falling down were a silent communication between Allah and His abdi.