Divine Decree

Chapter ElevenWelcome Home-Anaya

I had been nervous before.

I had been nervous when I first met Khalid.

I had been nervous when I learned that the man sitting behind those flowers during my nikah was not Karim.

I had been nervous when I left my father’s house with a stranger who was now my husband.

But somehow, sitting in the back seat of Khalid’s car as we drove toward the Al-Faheed family home, I felt a completely different kind of nervousness.

This time, there was no going back.

I was going home.

Not to my father’s house.

Not to my mother’s house.

To my husband’s home.

I looked through the window quietly.

The city passed by in a blur, but I barely noticed anything.

My hands rested in my lap, fingers intertwined.

Khalid was sitting beside me.

He had been unusually quiet.

Every now and then, I caught him looking at me.

And every time I noticed, he would look away.

I almost smiled.

He was nervous too.

That realization somehow made me feel better.

I wasn’t the only one.

After a while, the car slowed down.

I looked ahead.

The large gates opened.

And the moment we drove through them, I knew we had arrived.

The Al-Faheed family home was beautiful.

It was enormous.

The kind of house that didn’t simply look expensive.

It looked like it had belonged to a family for generations.

There were perfectly maintained gardens, tall trees, fountains, flowers, and a wide driveway leading toward the main entrance.

Several cars were already parked outside.

My heart started beating faster.

“They’re all here?” I asked softly.

Khalid looked at me.

“Most of them.”

I swallowed.

“That’s not helping.”

He laughed quietly.

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

He smiled.

And for some reason, seeing him smile made my nerves disappear for a second.

The car stopped.

Before anyone could open the door, Khalid reached for the handle.

Then he paused.

“Would you like me to help you?”

I looked at him.

“I can manage.”

“I know.”

His answer came so naturally that I looked at him again.

He didn’t say it like he was trying to be polite.

He genuinely knew I could manage.

That mattered to me.

“Then let me do it,” I said.

He nodded.

“Of course.”

I adjusted my abaya, checked my hijab, and took a slow breath.

I was ready.

Or at least I hoped I was.

The door opened.

The first person I saw was Khalid’s mother.

She was standing at the entrance with the biggest smile I had ever seen on her face.

Beside her stood his father in his wheelchair, along with Zayd, Lina, Mariam, Tariq, and several other members of the household.

The moment they saw me, everyone smiled.

My eyes immediately became wet.

Not because I was sad.

Because I had expected something different.

I had expected people to look at the wheelchair first.

I had expected the hesitation.

The quiet glances.

The uncomfortable expressions.

The questions they wouldn’t ask directly.

I had experienced it too many times.

But nobody looked at me that way.

His mother came toward me.

“My daughter.”

Her voice alone nearly broke me.

She bent slightly and kissed my forehead.

“Welcome home.”

I blinked rapidly.

“Thank you.”

“No.”

She took my hands.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

She smiled.

“You are my daughter now.”

My throat tightened.

I didn’t know what to say.

She looked at Khalid.

Then back at me.

“And don’t you dare feel like a guest in this house.”

A small laugh escaped me.

“I’ll try.”

“No trying.”

She squeezed my hands.

“You live here.”

Khalid came around the car.

His mother immediately looked at him.

“Why did you leave your wife sitting alone?”

Khalid raised an eyebrow.

“Mother, she told me she could manage.”

“She can manage and you can still help her.”

I covered my mouth, trying not to laugh.

Khalid looked at me.

“You see what I’ve been dealing with my entire life?”

His mother smacked his arm lightly.

“Don’t start.”

Everyone laughed.

And just like that…

The tension disappeared.

A little.

Khalid’s mother turned to me.

“Come. I want to show you your room.”

My heart skipped.

My room.

I looked at Khalid.

He was watching me carefully.

Something about his expression made me wonder if he was nervous about my reaction.

We moved inside.

The house was even more beautiful from the inside.

High ceilings.

Large windows.

Elegant furniture.

Soft lighting.

Everything was sophisticated without feeling cold.

But I barely noticed the decorations.

I noticed something else.

The paths were wide.

There were no unnecessary steps blocking the main areas.

The doors were wide enough for my wheelchair.

There were ramps where there needed to be ramps.

Everything seemed…

Accessible.

I looked at Khalid.

He immediately noticed.

“I told them to make a few changes.”

“A few?”

He shrugged.

“Maybe more than a few.”

I stared at him.

“When?”

“Before you came.”

I didn’t know what to say.

He had done all of this before I even arrived.

Not because I had demanded it.

Not because I had asked.

He had simply thought about me.

My eyes became hot.

Khalid noticed.

“Are you okay?”

I nodded quickly.

“Yes.”

“You don’t look okay.”

“I am.”

He stepped closer.

“Anaya.”

I looked at him.

“I’m just…”

I paused.

“I didn’t expect this.”

His expression softened.

“I wanted you to be comfortable.”

Those words were simple.

But they meant so much to me.

His mother led us upstairs.

When we reached the hallway, she stopped in front of a large door.

“This is yours.”

I looked at Khalid.

“Our room,” he corrected gently.

My heart jumped.

Our room.

I wasn’t ready for how strange those words would feel.

His mother opened the door.

I froze.

The room was beautiful.

It wasn’t overly decorated.

It wasn’t filled with things I didn’t need.

It was elegant.

Warm.

Peaceful.

There was a large bed positioned in a way that left plenty of space around it.

The furniture was arranged carefully.

There was a comfortable sitting area.

A large wardrobe.

A vanity.

A small prayer space.

And beside the bed was a clear pathway wide enough for my wheelchair.

I slowly moved inside.

I looked around.

Then I noticed something.

My side of the wardrobe had already been cleared.

There were empty shelves.

Empty drawers.

Space.

Actual space for my things.

I turned toward Khalid.

“You did this?”

He nodded.

“I told you I would make room.”

I swallowed.

“You really did.”

He smiled slightly.

“I said I would.”

I looked toward the bathroom.

The door was wider than normal.

Inside, there were grab rails and enough space for my wheelchair to maneuver.

My eyes filled with tears.

“Khalid…”

He stood quietly behind me.

“I didn’t ask you to do all this.”

“I know.”

“Then why?”

He looked at me for a moment.

“Because you’re my wife.”

Four words.

That’s all he said.

But they stayed with me.

Because for so long, I had wondered what it would feel like to be someone’s wife.

Not someone’s daughter.

Not someone’s sister.

Not someone’s successful daughter who happened to be a neurosurgeon.

Not someone’s disabled daughter whom people felt sorry for.

Someone’s wife.

And now I was.

I looked down.

A tear slipped down my cheek.

Khalid noticed immediately.

He came closer.

“Anaya.”

I wiped it quickly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I don’t know.”

He smiled softly.

“You don’t have to cry.”

“I know.”

I laughed through the tears.

“I’m just overwhelmed.”

“I understand.”

His mother stood at the doorway, watching us.

She smiled.

Then she said quietly, “I’ll leave you two alone.”

My eyes widened.

“Mother—”

She laughed.

“Don’t worry. I’m not saying anything.”

She walked away.

I heard her laugh from the hallway.

Khalid shook his head.

“She’s going to tease me forever.”

I smiled.

“She’s very sweet.”

“She is.”

There was a quiet moment between us.

Then Khalid looked around the room.

“Is there anything you don’t like?”

I shook my head.

“No.”

“Anything you want changed?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

I looked at him.

“Yes.”

Then I smiled.

“It’s beautiful.”

He nodded.

“Good.”

I moved closer to the window.

Outside, the garden stretched across the property.

I could see flowers, trees, and a small fountain.

It was peaceful.

So peaceful.

I placed my hand lightly against the window frame.

“I think I’m going to like it here.”

Khalid stood beside me.

“I hope so.”

I turned to him.

“You know…”

“What?”

“I was terrified.”

His expression changed.

“Of what?”

“Coming here.”

He didn’t speak.

“I was scared your family wouldn’t accept me.”

“They do.”

“I was scared I’d always feel like an outsider.”

“You won’t.”

“I was scared that one day you’d regret marrying me.”

He looked at me for several seconds.

Then he said quietly,

“I can’t promise you what the future will look like.”

My heart sank slightly.

But he continued.

“But I can promise you that I won’t make you feel like you are something I settled for.”

I looked at him.

He held my gaze.

“I didn’t marry you because I felt sorry for you, Anaya.”

“I know.”

“I need you to remember that.”

“I will.”

He nodded.

Then he reached toward the table and picked up something.

My phone.

I frowned.

“When did you take that?”

He smiled.

“Your mother gave it to me.”

I laughed.

“Of course she did.”

He handed it to me.

“Your sisters have been calling.”

I checked the screen.

There were already several missed calls and messages.

I laughed.

“They’re going to interrogate me.”

“About what?”

“Everything.”

He smiled.

“Tell them I’m treating you well.”

I looked at him.

“You are.”

He went quiet.

I didn’t know why.

Maybe he wasn’t expecting me to say it so easily.

I wasn’t expecting myself to say it either.

But it was true.

He had treated me with kindness.

With patience.

With respect.

And perhaps that was enough for today.

I looked around the room once more.

My room.

Our room.

My new home.

I thought about the woman who had sat outside her father’s house days ago, crying because the man who was supposed to marry her couldn’t see past her wheelchair.

I remembered the message.

I tried to look past your disability.

I closed my eyes.

Maybe I didn’t need someone who looked past it.

Maybe I needed someone who could see me completely.

The wheelchair.

The glasses.

The scars.

The career.

The faith.

The woman.

All of it.

I opened my eyes.

Khalid was still standing there.

Watching me.

And for the first time since my nikah, I didn’t feel like I was standing at the beginning of a mistake.

I felt like I was standing at the beginning of something I didn’t understand yet.

Something uncertain.

Something unexpected.

Something that might take time.

But something real.

I smiled softly.

“Thank you.”

Khalid frowned.

“For what?”

“For bringing me home.”

His expression softened.

Then he nodded.

“You’re welcome, Anaya.”

And somehow, those words made the room feel a little less unfamiliar.

Because maybe…

Just maybe…

This really was home.