Anisa woke early the next morning. Today, the Imam was coming to Fathima's house for the Nikah ceremony. Fathima and her family were already bustling with quiet preparation. Although the elders from both families had met and agreed on the union beforehand, the bride's consent held the highest importance, giving this ritual its profound weight. Anisa dressed in the teal blue outfit she had brought. š
The morning air felt fresh and invigorating. Finally, the Imam arrived, and Fathima, led by her mother, was brought into the living room.
She sat on a chair, her head bowed. Her hands, covered by a simple white lace cloth, bore no jewelry yet. This was not a grand spectacle; it was a moment of solemn decision.
Outside,her father first engaged in a quiet, respectful conversation with the Imam. This was the very first step, the agreement before the covenant. š£
The question the Imam would ask was simple, yet it carried the weight of a lifetime.
"Is your daughter entering this marriage of her own full and free consent?"
The father nodded."Yes. She agrees."
With those four words,the story began. No garlands, no fanfare. āŗ
Here,the most important thing was the word, the true word.
Next, it was her turn. Inside the room, in the presence of only women.
She took a soft breath.
"Yes." š
It wasn't a shout.
But with that"Yes," her life changed.
That is the first thing in a Muslim marriage.
Consent.Agreement. In the name of God.
The formalNikah would follow.
But this moment;
this quiet,almost invisible moment,
this is where the marriage truly begins. š