Morning

The house had fully woken up.

Voices overlapped each other, footsteps moved quickly across the hallway, doors opened and closed like they had somewhere important to be.

It was no longer the quiet, soft morning from before.

Now… it was a wedding house.

Amna adjusted her scarf as she stepped out of the room, careful not to bump into anyone rushing past her.

“Amna, come and help me with this!” Mariya called from across the sitting room.

She sighed lightly but walked over anyway.

“What is it?”

“This tray, we need to take it to the other room,” Mariya said, already pushing part of the weight toward her.

Amna took it, but immediately regretted it.

It wasn’t heavy…

But it wasn’t light either.

And with her careful hands—

Her henna—

It made everything harder.

“Careful o, don’t spoil your hands,” Ya Saliha teased from the side.

Amna rolled her eyes slightly.

“As if I don’t know.”

She tried adjusting her grip, lifting the tray a little higher.

Bad idea.

The edge tilted slightly.

“Ah—”

She quickly tried to balance it, her heart jumping.

For a second, it felt like everything would fall.

Then—

It didn’t.

The weight steadied.

Not because of her.

But because someone else had already held the other side.

Her breath caught.

She didn’t need to look up.

She knew.

Still… she did.

He stood opposite her, one hand holding the tray firmly, like it had always been his to carry.

“Easy,” he said calmly.

Amna swallowed softly.

“I had it,” she murmured.

He didn’t argue.

Didn’t tease.

Just looked at her for a brief second before shifting the tray properly.

“Let’s go,” he said.

And she followed.

Silently.

They walked side by side, holding the tray together.

Not touching.

But close enough for her to notice everything.

The steadiness of his movements.

The calm in the way he walked.

Like nothing ever rushed him.

Unlike her.

They reached the other room and set the tray down carefully.

Amna exhaled softly, not realizing she had been holding her breath.

“Thank you,” she said, finally looking at him.

He nodded once.

“It’s fine.”

Simple.

Too simple.

Like the moment didn’t matter.

But it did.

At least to her.

Before she could say anything else, Ya Saliha’s voice came again from behind them.

“Ah ah, Amna! See as you needed help,” she laughed.

Amna frowned.

“I did not—”

But Mariya cut in quickly.

“Yes you did! If not for him ehn, that tray would have greeted the ground.”

Amna looked away, embarrassed.

“Exaggeration.”

A low chuckle came from beside her.

Soft.

Almost unnoticeable.

But she heard it.

And it did something to her.

Ya Allah.

“Your henna is dark,” Ya Saliha suddenly said, grabbing Amna’s hand before she could hide it.

“Very dark.”

Mariya gasped dramatically.

“Ohooo, they say when henna is this dark—”

“Stop it,” Amna warned quickly, trying to pull her hand back.

“—it means someone loves you very much,” Mariya finished anyway, grinning.

“Or you love someone,” Ya Saliha added, enjoying it too much.

Amna felt her cheeks burn instantly.

“That’s not even true.”

“Hmm,” Mariya hummed.

“It is o.”

Amna finally freed her hand, shaking her head.

“You people just like talking.”

But despite her words…

Her eyes betrayed her.

They moved.

Just for a second.

Toward him.

He wasn’t looking at them.

At least… not directly.

But there was something in his expression.

Something unreadable.

Calm.

But not empty.

And for some reason…

That made her heart beat faster.

“Amna, come and help in the kitchen!” someone called again.

She turned immediately.

“Yes!”

Anything to escape.

As she walked away, she could still feel it.

That moment.

That closeness.

That quiet help she didn’t ask for…

But didn’t forget either.

Her fingers brushed lightly against her palm.

The henna stain.

Dark.

Deep.

Unfading.

And somehow…

It didn’t feel like just a design anymore.

★★

Sorry 😔 guys I miss took chapter 4 for 3 because I loved it, but enjoy.