The room was filled with the scent of freshly sprayed oud, soft murmurs of women in abayas, and the occasional clinking of teacups. But none of it could drown out the storm in Amina's chest. Her palms were cold despite the layers of lace gloves she wore, and her lips moved in silent dhikr as she stared at her reflection.
Today was the day. The day she would finally become someone's wife.
Idris.
His name alone made her heart calm. He was quiet, respectful, and soft-spoken. The few times their eyes had met in the presence of their families, he had looked away almost instantly. That modesty, that humility—it was what made her certain he was the one. Her istikharah dreams had been peaceful. Her heart had been steady. Everything felt right.
Until now.
Amina's mother peeked into the bridal room and gave a soft smile. "They're ready for you, habibti."
Amina stood, smoothed the front of her white jilbab, and followed her mother to the curtain that separated the women from the men. She wasn't going to see his face yet, but she would hear his name, hear the imam pronounce her future.
The imam's voice echoed through the microphone, reciting the khutbah for nikah. Her hands trembled as her wali gave his approval. Her heart pounded louder with every passing second.
Then came the question.
"Do you, Amina bint Kareem, accept Harith bin Zakariya as your husband?"
Her breath caught.
Harith?
She blinked rapidly. Maybe she misheard. Maybe it was the microphone. Maybe he said Idris and it just sounded like Harith.
She looked around. Her mother's eyes were teary, nodding, nudging her gently. Her aunt leaned in and whispered, "Say qabiltu, Amina. Don't delay."
But everything inside her screamed wait.
Harith wasn't Idris. Harith was his older brother—the one who never looked her way, the one who always sat with his arms crossed in every family meeting, the one whose silence felt like a wall she could never climb.
She hesitated. But her mouth moved anyway.
"…Qabiltu."
And just like that, the nikah was complete.
Applause and duas filled the air. Amina sat frozen, her heart racing, her lips pressed into a tight line.
Something was wrong.
She hadn't married Idris. She had married his brother.
And nobody seemed to notice… except her.