Divine Decree

Chapter ThirteenThe First Night-Anaya

It was finally time for bed.

The house had become quiet.

The laughter from downstairs had disappeared, the conversations had ended, and everyone had slowly retreated to their own rooms.

I sat in my wheelchair for a moment outside our bedroom, staring at the door.

Our bedroom.

I still wasn’t completely used to saying that.

I took a quiet breath before moving inside.

Khalid was already there.

He had changed into something comfortable, and he was sitting on one side of the bed, looking through his phone.

When he saw me enter, he looked up.

“Ready for bed?”

I nodded.

“Yes.”

I moved toward the closet.

The first thing I noticed was how easy everything was.

The closet had been arranged specifically with me in mind.

The clothes I could reach easily were placed at the right height.

There was enough room between everything for my wheelchair to move without bumping into anything.

The doors opened easily.

There were no unnecessary obstacles.

I stared at everything for a moment.

Khalid had actually thought about this.

Not just the bedroom.

Not just the bathroom.

Everything.

I smiled to myself.

I changed into my pajamas, then looked at myself in the mirror.

For a moment, I hesitated.

My hand went to my hijab.

This was different.

I had removed my hijab countless times before.

In my mother’s house.

In front of my sisters.

In my private room.

But this was the first time I was going to remove it in front of my husband.

My husband.

The thought made my heart beat faster.

I slowly removed the pins.

Then I loosened the fabric.

And finally, I took the hijab off.

My long black hair fell over my shoulders.

It was naturally thick and ebony black, reaching far down my back.

I ran my fingers through it briefly, smoothing it.

I hadn’t thought much about my hair before.

But tonight, suddenly, I felt self-conscious.

Not because I was ashamed.

Just because this was the first time Khalid was seeing me like this.

I took a breath.

Then I turned my wheelchair around and began navigating back toward the bed.

The moment I entered the bedroom, I noticed Khalid had stopped looking at his phone.

He was looking at me.

Actually looking at me.

His eyes moved to my hair.

Then back to my face.

He looked almost surprised.

I smiled slightly.

“What?”

He blinked.

“Is that your hair?”

I almost laughed.

“Yes.”

He stared for another second.

Then he said softly,

“Mashallah.”

My cheeks warmed.

“Thank you.”

“Your hair is very beautiful.”

I smiled.

“Thank you.”

He looked away for a moment, almost as though he had realized he was staring.

I couldn’t help smiling.

“Are you okay?”

He looked back at me.

“Yes.”

“You were staring.”

“I know.”

I laughed quietly.

“I’ve never seen it before.”

“I know.”

“It suits you.”

“Thank you.”

I moved closer to the bed.

I had already learned the exact position where I could park my wheelchair.

Khalid watched quietly as I positioned it beside the bed.

I could feel his eyes on me.

But there was no judgment in them.

No pity.

No discomfort.

Just curiosity.

And something softer.

I locked the wheelchair.

Then I prepared myself to transfer.

Khalid immediately stood.

“Do you need help?”

I shook my head.

“No.”

He stopped.

“Okay.”

That was one of the things I appreciated about him.

He asked.

I answered.

And he respected my answer.

I placed my hands firmly where I needed them and carefully moved myself from the wheelchair onto the bed.

Years of living with my disability had taught me how to do things differently.

I had built enough upper-body strength to transfer myself safely.

It wasn’t always easy.

But I knew my body.

I knew what I could do.

And I was proud of that.

Once I was settled, I pulled the blanket over myself.

Khalid remained standing for a moment.

Then he came around to the other side of the bed.

He looked at me.

“Comfortable?”

I nodded.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He got into bed.

There was a small space between us.

Neither of us spoke.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable.

But I could feel my heartbeat.

Loud.

Too loud.

I stared at the ceiling.

My mind began wandering.

This was my husband.

I was sharing a bedroom with my husband.

We were married.

And tonight was our first night together as husband and wife.

A small nervousness settled inside me.

I knew what marriage meant.

I knew what couples eventually expected from one another.

And somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered if Khalid expected that tonight.

My fingers tightened slightly around the blanket.

Maybe he would want to consummate the marriage.

Maybe he would expect intimacy.

Maybe…

I stopped myself.

I didn’t want to assume anything.

I turned my head slightly.

Khalid was looking at me.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“You’re thinking about something.”

I smiled nervously.

“How do you always know?”

“Because you’re terrible at pretending.”

I laughed softly.

Then I became quiet again.

He waited.

He didn’t pressure me.

He simply waited.

Finally, I whispered,

“I’m nervous.”

His expression softened immediately.

“About what?”

I hesitated.

“Tonight.”

He understood.

I knew he did.

He didn’t make me explain.

Instead, he said quietly,

“Anaya.”

I looked at him.

“We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

My heart stopped for a second.

He continued.

“We don’t have to rush anything.”

I stared at him.

“You don’t?”

“No.”

His voice was calm.

“We barely know each other.”

I swallowed.

“I thought…”

“I know what you thought.”

He smiled gently.

“And I don’t want you lying here afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“I know.”

He paused.

“But I want you to feel safe with me.”

Those words touched something deep inside me.

Safe.

That was what Khalid had always made me feel.

From the first day.

Even when everything had been chaotic.

Even when I didn’t understand why he had stepped forward.

Even when I was terrified that he would eventually regret it.

He had never made me feel like a burden.

Never made me feel helpless.

Never treated me like someone who needed to be rescued.

He treated me like a woman.

His wife.

Someone capable.

Someone worthy.

I smiled softly.

“Thank you.”

He nodded.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I want to.”

He looked at me.

“Then you’re welcome.”

I looked toward the ceiling again.

My body slowly relaxed.

The tension in my shoulders disappeared.

For the first time since entering this room, I felt completely calm.

Khalid reached over and switched off the main light, leaving only the soft lamp beside the bed.

The room became warm and quiet.

I turned toward him.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Why did you really look at me that way when I came back?”

He smiled.

“Your hair?”

I nodded.

“Yes.”

He thought for a moment.

“Because it was the first time I’d seen you without your hijab.”

“I know.”

“And…”

He paused.

“And you looked different.”

I smiled.

“Different how?”

“More relaxed.”

I looked at him.

He continued.

“You looked like you were completely yourself.”

Something about that answer made my heart soften.

“I think I was.”

He nodded.

“Good.”

We were quiet again.

Then I asked,

“Are you nervous?”

He looked at me.

“A little.”

I laughed.

“You?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He smiled.

“Because I’m sharing a room with my wife for the first time.”

My cheeks became warm.

He noticed.

And smiled.

But he didn’t move closer.

He didn’t pressure me.

He simply lay there.

Beside me.

Giving me space.

Giving me time.

And somehow, that meant more to me than anything else could have.

I looked at him in the soft light.

“Goodnight, Khalid.”

“Goodnight, Anaya.”

I closed my eyes.

For the first time in a very long time, I fell asleep without wondering whether the person beside me was going to leave because of my wheelchair.

Because tonight, I knew something.

Khalid wasn’t looking past my disability.

He was looking at me.

And somehow…

That was enough.