"You are my best friend as well as my lover, and I do not know which side of you I enjoy the most. I treasure each side, just as I have our life together." - Nicholas Sparks (The Notebook) 

~ Yasmine's dress to the side (hers is white). 

~ PLEASE read the A/N at the end. It's long but VERY important.

Chapter 35 - From Best Friend to Best Friend. 

The party was amazing. Needless to say, by the end of the night I was completely lethargic and could barely keep my eyes open. I was sitting on the edge of the elevated stage, rubbing my sore feet and watching on like a princess, as everyone cleaned the hall around me. Since we had rented it out until late, it was on us to pack away the chairs and tables and remove all decorations. 

My father and brother, along with Zach and Jacob had come once the party was over to help do the heavy lifting. From where I was sitting, I wasn't complaining about the view I had, as I delightfully observed Zach lift and carry tables, his muscles tightening and clenching in the process. He looked devilishly handsome, even in a casual t-shirt and chinos. I laughed when he caught me staring and sent a wink my way. 

Looking on, my friends had stayed back to help too, and I felt bad that they were doing all the work as I sat here lazily. With a tired sigh, I lifted myself up and slipped on the thongs my mum had, smartly, brought for me. I began stacking the chairs on top of each other and once I had a good pile, I pushed it towards a large room where they were all being stored. 

Just as I stepped in, dragging the chairs behind me, I came face-to-face with an annoyed looking Noah and a hesitant looking Salma. They appeared to be arguing or conversing, I wasn’t sure, but even in my exhausted haze, I could feel the tension in the air. 

I cleared my throat and they both snapped their heads towards me. “Is everything OK in here?” 

“Oh, Yasmine, we didn’t see you there,” Salma muttered, taking a step away from Noah, flattening her long floral dress and averting her eyes. I gave Noah a curious look but he also looked away from me. If it wasn’t for Noah’s clenched jaw and Salma’s crossed arms, I would’ve assumed that they were having a romantic conversation of some sort, but obviously not. 

There was an awkward silence as I waited for one of them to say something, but none of them did. After a minute, Salma finally peered at Noah again, both giving each other stubborn glares. 

What the? What’s going on here?

“I think it’s time I went home, I’m absolutely smashed. I’ll see you tomorrow insha’Allah.” With that, she gave me a quick peck on the cheek and without sparing a glance to Noah, walked out, arms still crossed stubbornly and a determined look on her face.

Stunned by her behaviour, I watched her retreated back, before I turned on Noah. I was just about to scold him, thinking he said something to upset her, but his defeated expression halted me. 

“What just happened?” I questioned instead. 

“Don’t ask,” he grumbled, rubbing a hand down his face, before promptly storming out. 

“Righto. Awesome,” I said, sarcastically. If I wasn’t so tired, I would’ve run after him and Salma and demanded for some answers, but it seemed it’d have to wait until a later date. When I actually had some energy. 

I proceeded to drag in the rest of the chairs and they moved backwards oddly fast, compared to just moments before, where it took me five minutes just to drag them a few metres. 

“Huh.” I looked at the floor then peered around the chairs. Within seconds, my eyes landed on a grinning Zach, who’s arms were perched against the chairs. 

“And there I was, excited that maybe I was stronger than I thought.” He chuckled and then walked around, promptly clasping his hand in mine. 

“You shouldn’t be doing any work, you’re the bride,” he said, giving me a sideways smile as he pulled me back into the hall. 

“And you’re the groom,” I quipped.

“Touché.” 

****

Zach’s POV

Today was the day before my wedding and the day of my hla’a. As I sat in the plastic chair, with the barber cutting and fixing my hair, I laughed for the thousandth time, as the boys around me wooped, danced and made crude jokes. My friend Samir skilfully played the drum in his hand as he watched the crowd of almost fifty people in our backyard, including some women who were watching and preparing the food. 

The drums were so fast and loud, I could feel each hit and beat become in sync with my pounding heart. I’d like to think it was because of what the boys would be doing to me next, but I wasn’t fooling myself. If anything, the next part was the funnest. 

What had me on edge, was the mere notion that tomorrow, me and Yasmine would be fully married. Excitement and anticipation pumped through my veins at the thought and an involuntary grin made it’s way onto my face. I thanked Allah SWT for granting me a wife that loved me and who I loved in return, for giving me a wife who brought out the better in me and who I could insha’Allah, walk down the path to jannah with. 

From observing some of my friends relationships, I realised what distinguished our relationship from others, is that she isn’t just my wife. Yes, they would treat each other with respect, the love would be one hundred percent apparent on their faces…which of course, Yasmine and I had. 

But the one thing I made sure of, was that I would continue to treat her as my best friend. That title wouldn’t disappear with marriage. She was the type of girl, that would still understand my desire to play x-box for hours on end. She was the type of girl, that even after a long day at work, I could come home and annoy her relentlessly. She was the type of friend, that I could sit in silence with for an hour straight and not feel awkward. 

I could not, would not, contain this happiness and I knew that no matter what it took, I would cherish her until my very last breath. 

Just as the barber was finishing up with my hair, I looked up and caught mums eye from a distance. She was smiling at me warmly and I grinned back at her, but not before noting the reminiscent spark in her eyes. I sighed as she walked back off into the house and wished more than anything that dad was here today. He was the type of father that would be standing here right now, along with all the boys, cheering and laughing, prodding and poking. Making jokes and causing everyone to laugh. 

He was the type of father that would do everything and anything for your happiness but then would come down on you like a hammer, when he observed any wrongs. Not in a controlling and harsh way but in a stern yet gentle manner. He was the kind of person that would throw you out of bed for fajr, then laugh at your pain and writhing on the floor. 

I smiled as all the memories of him slowly began to surface, from his playing with me and Jacob as children, right down to the moment he took his very last breath. The image of him lying down on the floor, a large shard of glass lodged in his ribcage, burned before my eyes. It was during Israel’s last operation to completely eradicate us. He died protecting a co-worker, a co-worker who was still very much alive, but had slowly fallen into depression after witnessing my father’s death. 

It was of course my worst memory - not only because my father had died, but because I remember feeling not even a glimmer of hope, as the blood spluttered out of his mouth, his hand holding mine in a death grip. The thick piece of glass had gone straight into his heart and the moment I had found him laying on the floor in pain, I knew. I just knew. 

Sometimes I wished I hadn’t accompanied my dad to work on that fateful day. But as always, I reminded myself that this was Allah SWT plan for me and looking back, I now know how much stronger a person I am because of it. 

I shook the image from my head and instantly, the memory of the first time my father had met Yasmine replaced it. 

“Stop sulking Zach,” Yasmine said haughtily, crossing her arms over her chest, before eyeing me with an exasperated look. “It was just a little bit.” We were walking home from school and I was ignoring her, but more than anything, contemplating whether the girl needed psychological help. 

“You shaved off a whole chunk of my hair Yasmine!” I exclaimed, cringing when I felt the bald patch at the back of my head. “Why would you even do that?” 

She shrugged her shoulders, not an ounce of care in her brown orbs. “I was bored.” 

I looked at her incredulously. The girl definitely had issues. “How did you even bring a shaver into the school?” I asked, defeatedly. If it was anyone else, I would have punched them square in the nose, but this girl amazed me and somehow managed to dissipate my anger into laughter. 

“I snatched dad’s shaver from the bathroom,” she stated proudly, her smile gleaming in the sun. 

“Of course you did,” I grumbled and continued to walk on. After a few moments of silent walking, I heard my name being called out and both me and Yasmine turned our heads to the right. My father was sitting outside, under the shelter of a restaurant, sipping on his coffee, one leg perched over the other. How did these adults bear to drink coffee in such bothersome heat? 

“Who’s that?” Yasmine questioned, raising her eyebrow, before throwing her hair behind her shoulder.

“Come,” I merely stated, smiling as I trudged up to my father and his friend, Yasmine’s footsteps resounding behind me. 

As always my dad got up and ruffled my hair before planting a kiss on my forehead. I blushed and peeked a glance at Yasmine, who was staring at us curiously. “Asalamu alaikum yabba.” My dad replied my salams and then turned to Yasmine. 

“And who’s your friend Zach?” he asked, smiling down at Yasmine genuinely. 

“Yabba, this is Yasmine, my friend from school.” Still angry over her actions, I didn’t meet her eye when I introduced her to my father. 

“Ahh, salam Yasmine.”

“You are the tallest ‘amu I have ever seen,” she voiced forwardly, ignoring his salam, whilst staring at him in amazement. Dad laughed long and hard at that, his smile implying he could sense the mischievousness in her. 

“I like her,” my father said, turning to look at me. I scowled at his remark and his eyes widened in a shocked and playful manner. “You don’t?” 

“I shaved his head, look,” Yasmine again, proudly stated before I could respond, grabbing me and turning me around so my father could see the bald spot. I clenched my fists in anger and frustration when I heard my dad once again, begin to bellow and laugh loudly. 

“And is wittle Zachy here, angry at you?” I clenched my fists tighter but remained silent. Of course he’d embarrass me even further in front of her, why did I bother coming to him to in the first place? 

“Yeah, I don’t know why though,” she huffed, as if she had the right to be annoyed at me. “But see, your dad finds it funny!” she said, grinning at him approvingly.

“You’re not serious, are you?” She just rolled her eyes at me and then tapped her foot impatiently. 

“Don’t be angry at her Zach,” my dad chipped in, sitting back down on his chair. “She’s going to be good for you.” He looked between us knowingly. Yasmine and I scrunched our eyebrows and stared at him weirdly. 

“Anyway, I’ve got to go, before Noah chucks a hissy fit.” I nodded at her and we both said our salams to dad before walking off. I could feel his intense stare on us and I knew he was still smiling, that knowing smile of his. 

“I like your dad.” 

Well. That’s saying something. 

“Zach!” 

“Hmm?” I hummed, snapping out of dreamland. The barber just stared at me and shook his head. 

“I don’t know how many times you’ve zoned out today. Keep thinking of the wife eh?” He raised one eyebrow suggestively. 

I chuckled. “Something like that.” 

He smiled then turned to the group of boys surrounding me. “I’m done,” he bellowed. 

Oh, no. 

I had been so zoned out, I didn’t even notice all the eggs and whipped cream in the hands of some of my closest friends. Laith even had a cup of something that was unidentifiable yet gruesome looking in his hands. They were all smiling at me menacingly and I smirked back challengingly. 

“Get him!” Samir yelled and no sooner had he uttered the words, before I found myself being hauled by two boys and carried into the bathroom inside our house. They took me into the bathroom right opposite my room and had not so ceremoniously, thrown me into the shower cubicle.

I took off my shirt and pants, so that I was just in my boxers.

“Come at me!” I heard some snickers and laughs, there were about ten of my closest friends filling up the bathroom, more waiting outside to join in on the fun.

I barely had time to shield my face, before I felt eggs being cracked upon my bare skin, fusing with the soft feeling of whipped cream. Throw after throw, they kept on coming at me and I had to hold in my bursts of laughter, so that nothing flew into my mouth. 

“Is that all you wimps came up with?!” I spluttered, once there was a pause. Just then, Laith stepped forward, the large cup still present in his hand. He was holding it as if it was a diamond, invaluable. I sniggered and waiting to see what he would do. “I’m not drinking whatever the hell that is.”

“Oh, you don’t have to drink it - that’s too kind. I’m going to pour it atop your head.”

I blinked at him. “Is that all? Pfft, I thought you guys really had something good in store for me.” I crossed my arms smugly.

“You won’t be saying that in a few seconds,” Jacob chirped, and the boys nudged each other and snickered again in anticipation. I eyed each of them warily. 

“Ok then. Just do it Laith.” With an evil smile he positioned it just above my head and poured the contents out. It rolled through my hair and all the way down my bare back and chest. I looked up, wiping the disgusting mush off my face. At first, I was completely fine. 

But then, a smell so pungent, so disgusting, so cringe-worthy, wafted towards me. I began to cough, spit and splutter. 

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!” I yelled, trying to hold in my breath. I turned to look at the boys questioningly, to find them in tears and dying of laughter, all whilst holding their nose closed.

It smelt like, like - it smelt like a sewerage mixed with dead rats and rotting food. No, even worse than that. It was when I felt the urge to actually vomit, that I hastily turned on the water, in a futile attempt to wash it off and get rid of the smell. 

I wasn’t fast enough. I bent down, hands on my knees, and regurgitated that mornings breakfast. My eyes stung and I felt light headed for a second. Noah and Jacob came into the cubicle with a peg on their noses, and promptly pushed me under the shower head. 

“I got that on video!” Firas yelled excitedly and I turned to glare at the bastard. I spat under the running water and rinsed my mouth out. 

“Maybe he should send it over to Yasmine,” Jamal added, and they all barked with laughter again. I was still reeling from the smell, even though it had slightly subsided. I had to give it to them - the had thought this through. 

“You know, they say that what we concocted - it takes days for the smell to erase itself off you,” Noah piped in, as he continued to hose me down with the shower head. 

“Yeah, don’t be surprised if Yasmine runs off tomorrow,” Jacob said, dosing me in liquid soap. I snatched the hose from Noah and turned on them, hosing not only him, but every one of my friends, wiping the satisfied smirks off their faces. 

With a little too much joy, I sprayed and dragged each one under the water with me. From then on, it became complete chaos. 

****

After the boys had showered me, yes - that was the tradition - I emerged a bit later, cleaned and in new clothes. Since I was one of the first from my group of friends to get married, and the youngest, they had all gone absolutely wild. However, I warned them, each and every one, that when it came to their turn, I would not hold back. 

I shuddered as I caught a whiff of that vomit inducing smell. 

Thankfully, the food was now fully ready, and I walked up to the buffet, my mum, auntie and a few family friends had tirelessly made. 

“Did you have fun in there?” Aunt Heba asked, walking up and standing next to me. 

“Mmm, I wouldn’t use the word ‘fun’…more like ‘lethal’,” I joked and she chuckled. 

“I’m really proud of you Zach,” she stated, her similar green eyes sparkling up at me. “I wish you and Yasmine a lifetime of happiness.” 

I put my arm around her shoulder and hugged her close to my side. At the young age of thirty five, Aunt Heba still had not married. Not because she didn’t want to, but because her fiancé and soon-to-be husband, who she was madly in love with, died when they were much younger. She never quite got over him and since then hasn’t married. I hated the fact that she was alone, in such a big house, but just like Yasmine, she was stubborn and believed she was fine living independently. 

“Thanks Aunt Heba,” I said sincerely, kissing her forehead. She wrapped her arms around my waist and we stayed like that for a while, just eating and watching people converse. 

I wondered what Yasmine was doing right now. 

****

Yasmine’s POV

“Rise and shineee!” 

I groaned and rubbed at my eyes. Turning around, I watched in horror, as a chirpy Salma flung my curtains open, causing the sunlight to stream in and effectively burn my eyeballs. 

“Dammit Salma, close the blinds!” I shielded my face with my hands, and sighed dramatically. 

“Oh shut your grumpy ass! It’s your wedding day!” she sang, clapping like a seal. She launched herself onto me and then proceeded to shake my shoulders. “Woooohooo!” she continued, grabbing my arms and moving them around, as if I was dancing. I let out a loud, hearty laugh, just imagining what kind of a sight we must be. She collapsed next to me, chuckling at her own stupidity and it was times like these, that I realised why we had always gotten along. I mentally applauded myself at my choice of friends. 

“Oh my God,” I voiced, suddenly. “I’m getting married today.” I stared up at the ceiling in amazement. 

“That you are. And there’s no time for nerves, tears or daydreams, we have a lot to do!” For the first time in a while, actually in my whole life, I emerged from bed happily and willingly. A day to be recorded in my history I think. 

Just as I ended my satisfying stretch, mum hastily walked into the room and then let out a relieved sigh when she saw I was awake. “We owe you so much dear,” she said to Salma, before pushing me in the direction of the bathroom. “Go shower, yallah! The make-up artist will be here any minute!” 

“But it’s still 6am!” I pouted. I hated showering in the morning.

“I don’t care what time it is, you are getting in that bathroom!”  

“OK, OK,” I grumbled. Swiping a towel from the cupboard on my way there, I walked into the bathroom and emerged five minutes later, having taken the fastest shower of my entire existence. 

Six hours later, we were all finally ready. I dared to glance at myself in the mirror and once I did, I was thoroughly impressed with Nimah’s work. I had told her to do my make-up as natural looking as possible, and she had done it perfectly. My hair was in a similar, yet more intricate fashion as the day of my girls party. 

My white chiffon dress had moderate sleeves, being completely laced at the top. At the bust, it flared out, with more designs of lace woven into the fabric. A large white ribbon was tied just atop my waist, it’s excess ribbon hanging down my dress. It had taken a full three months and a lot of pressuring on the poor sewing lady to get this done. 

But I loved it and decisively admitted to myself that I looked amazing. 

As I stood there, staring into the mirror, I was totally oblivious to my mother standing right behind me. 

“You look beautiful habibti.” I turned my head and found her smiling through her tears. 

“OK no - mum, you cannot do this right now. The day hasn’t even started!” I said with a shaky voice. 

“I know, I know! I’m leaving now, was just telling you to come downstairs, Zach will be here any minute for the photos.” She dabbed at her face with a tissue, making sure not to ruin her make-up, before glancing at me one last time and heading out. 

I heaved a big sigh, and tried to calm my pumping heart. 

However, when I heard the singing and chanting men from down the street, I knew my heart would not be slowing down any time soon. 

****

A/N

Aahhhh, it's felt like years since I've updated. Is this even my book? I forgot. DAMN YOU UNI. But it's OK because my exam is tomorrow (I know, what am I doing updating a day before my exam?!) but ohwell, after tomorrow I will be as free as a bird. The exam is at 8:45am too, like jeez, do you guys know how far my uni is and what time I'd have to wake up to get there? -_- As long as it finishes before my birthday, which is the day after, I aint complaining, uh uh. 

Anyway cut the rambling and onto more serious matters. 

I have created a little competition for all you awesome readers! Sadly, the book is nearing an end :( I wanted to know your thoughts, and how all you guys envision Zach and Yasmine's future. What's it going to be like? Will they still be married and happily in love? Will they even be alive? What about their family? Kids? What of Gaza?

SOOO. I want you guys to write out how you think the rest of their lives will be.

Here are the rules:

- It has to be atleast 5+ years from their age now.

- It can be however long you want, but minimum a page in writing, which is what, 500 words. 

- You can write from either Zach or Yasmine's POV.

- PM me your writing, once finished.

- You have exactly one week from this day to finish it [may extend this].

How will I choose the winner you ask?

I will choose the winner based on whoever can replicate either Yasmine or Zach's attitude the best and whichever one I find the most enjoyable. Try to bring out their true personalities and maybe play it up and add something in there that you think I'd like ;) 

What does the winner get?

The winner will get a dedication in the next chapter, a shout out for their book (if they have one written) and with their consent, I will upload their writing as a chapter so everyone can read it too :) 

And anything else (within reason) the winner may ask for. 

This might just fail and maybe no one will participate [which would cut me so deeply] but I urge you all to give it a shot. I know from now all the works will be amazing. If you haven't written anything before, let this be your chance to try! BE CREATIVE. 

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, give it a shot and let me know your thoughts :) 

And as usual, please vote and comment on the chapter! 

P.S. A hla'a or hla2a, is the party thrown for the man a day before the wedding. A barber comes to the house and shaves/cuts the hair whilst people dance around him. Then his brothers/close friends etc will shower him (this is where most boys will prank the groom) and then there's food etc etc, bleh, bleh. 

P.S.S. I have an ask account now, so if any of you guys have a question, you can shoot it there :)