By now, it was getting late. Everyone started preparing to leave. The hall lights were dimmed halfway. Mary and Yusuf finally got up from their seats. Near the stage, Mary's family and some relatives started gathering.
Yusuf stepped down from the stage first and reached out his hand to help Mary—but she ignored him and got down on her own.
He slowly lowered his hand.
Mary's mother, Sarah, hugged her first.
"Take care of yourself, Mary. I'll miss you so much," Sarah said, tears welling in her eyes.
"Don't worry, I'll keep coming to see you. No one can stop me," Mary replied, hugging her tightly.
Yusuf felt someone's hand on his shoulder. When he turned, it was an old friend.
"Muhammad," Yusuf said, hugging him.
"How are you, bro?" Yusuf asked, looking at him.
"I'm fine. Sorry I'm a little late… got busy," Muhammad said with a small smile.
"No problem, man," Yusuf patted him lightly on the shoulder. "Just being here is enough for me."
Yusuf didn't have much of a family. He'd grown up in an orphanage, then a man had adopted him when he was young. But that man never really stayed with him—he moved Yusuf into a separate apartment and got him a job. He used to visit often because he had no son, but when the man finally had a son, his visits became rare… and eventually stopped. Years later, they met again.
Back at the hall, Mary had said her goodbyes to everyone. Her brothers and sister watched her sadly—they didn't want to leave her, but every girl had to go through this. Guests were heading toward the main gate.
Yusuf walked ahead with Muhammad. Behind them were Mary's brothers, then Mary herself, followed by her mother and sister helping with her lehenga. Her friend had already left, and more than half the guests had gone too.
Yusuf went out first and opened the car door for Mary. A few moments later, she stepped out with her family and got into the car. The door was still open when Sarah came back for a moment, leaned in, whispered a few words, kissed her on the forehead, and closed the door.
Yusuf stepped forward to say goodbye to Sarah, but before he could, everyone else turned and walked to their cars. Yusuf then returned to his seat on the other side. The door closed, and he drove off.
------------
Both of them sat in the car in silence. The function had been long, and it was already dark outside—around 10 p.m. The area was quiet and almost deserted; maybe one or two cars passed by every few minutes.
Yusuf drove silently, while Mary stared out the window, lost in her thoughts.
"Ahem…" Yusuf cleared his throat.
"Are you okay?" he asked, glancing at her before looking back at the road.
"Hmm."
That was all Mary said before falling silent again. She straightened up slightly, as if she wanted to say something.
Yusuf looked at her. For a brief second, Mary looked back at him too. Their eyes met—then Yusuf broke the eye contact.
"You didn't eat anything there. If you want, I can—"
"I want to go to church," Mary cut him off, still looking straight ahead.
"…What?" Yusuf looked at her, then back at the road, then at her again.
"At this time?"
"Yes. Right now," she replied, her gaze fixed forward.
Yusuf started looking around outside, trying to spot a church.
Let's see how he tries to stop me, Mary thought angrily.
I'll do whatever I want. No matter how he pressured my father into this marriage, whatever his plan is—I won't let it succeed.
Her expression hardened with anger.
Soon, Yusuf spotted a church. Its lights were on, and the place looked empty. He pulled the car over and looked at her.
Without saying a word, Mary opened the door and stepped out. Just as she was about to close it, she paused and asked,
"Are you coming?"
For a moment, she wondered if maybe—slowly, over time—he might even become Christian, seeing the beauty of Christianity.
"I don't worship ido—"
Mary raised an eyebrow.
"—uh, I mean, I've never been to a church before. You go ahead. I'll come."
Hearing that, Mary shut the door and walked inside.
The church was empty. All the seats were vacant. It was small and quiet, with a statue of Jesus hanging on the cross at the front. Mary walked to the front and sat down. She clasped her hands, closed her eyes, and prayed:
My Lord Jesus, today I've taken a huge step in my life. I don't know what's going to happen next. Please help me. I need to know the truth—how this man trapped my father, whatever he did. And if anything about him turns out to be true, then my only prayer is this: that he becomes a good Christian. Only then can I live happily with him. Amen.
When Mary opened her eyes, she froze.
Yusuf was standing there, looking at the statue of Jesus.
"What are you looking at?"
She asked, getting up from her seat.
"Nothing. I was just wondering… you people consider him God?"
"So what?" Mary snapped.
"Don't you dare say anything wrong about Jesus—"
"Don't worry," Yusuf said calmly, smiling at her.
"Muslims actually respect Isa A.S. more than Christians do."
"Isa who?" Mary asked, confused.
"Jesus," Yusuf said, looking back at the statue.
"Whatever," Mary rolled her eyes and turned to leave.
"You do know that we don't believe Jesus was crucified," Yusuf added.
Mary stopped and thought for a moment.
"Yes, I've heard that. Your religion contradicts all of history. That alone shows which religion is right," she said, avoiding his gaze.
"That's not true," Yusuf replied, looking at the statue again.
"The Qur'an says:
وَمَا قَتَلُوهُ وَمَا صَلَبُوهُ وَلَـٰكِن شُبِّهَ لَهُمْ ۚ"
"They neither killed nor crucified him—it was only made to appear so"
Mary frowned. "What does that mean?"
Yusuf started walking toward the exit.
"I'll explain in the car."
Mary followed him out.
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