Ameela got off the bed slowly, looked at him, and said, “I heard that brides don’t cook breakfast until after a week.”

Hilal’s heart sank. He almost cried. “So because of that, your husband must starve?”

He turned away, dressing himself in silence, fuming inside. She smiled faintly and went into the bathroom to make ablution.

When she came out, he had finished dressing for work. She asked,

“Are you leaving without waiting for me to pray and make breakfast?”

He looked at her with deep irritation, then suppressed his anger. “Never mind, I’ll eat out. If I wait for you, I’ll be late.”

She pouted, “Please, don’t let people see you eating outside on our wedding day. They’ll laugh at me.”

He forced a smile. “Don’t worry. I forgive you, but only for today. Don’t ever do this again.”

Shamefaced, she lowered her head. She admired his calmness—he wasn’t hot-tempered, and that was the kind of husband she had wanted.

She asked, “Fine, what would you like me to cook when you return?”

He replied, “Don’t bother. I’ll buy food myself. I’m excusing you from cooking for a week. Just take care of yourself.”

He put on his shoes, picked up his work bag, and said, “I’m off. Take care. I’ll be back later.”

Without waiting for her reply, he left.

As soon as he was gone, Ameela sighed in relief. She quickly picked up her hijab, prayed hurriedly without even making supplications, then went to the living room.

She unplugged her phone from the charger, switched it on, and immediately messages began flooding in. She smiled as she scrolled.

One message had three pictures from a contact saved as HMM. They were handsome selfies of a stylish young man wearing sunglasses.

“Wow, he’s really fine,” she whispered. At the bottom of the image was written: ‘Send me your picture too, please.’

Excited, she spent the next half hour happily replying and scrolling before going for a shower. Then she dressed up, stood before the mirror applying makeup, and admired her beauty.

Later, her close friend Amrah (Ameera) came to visit. They hugged joyfully. Amrah laughed,

“You look stunning, my friend! Marriage suits you.”

Ameela rolled her eyes. “Suit me? Please. I didn’t even enjoy my first night. You know I was busy chatting instead.”

Amrah gasped. “What stopped you?”

Ameela smiled mischievously. “I’ve met someone online. Come, I’ll show you.”

She pulled out her phone and showed Amrah the pictures from HMM.

Amrah stared, impressed. “Wow, he’s really handsome.”

Ameela nodded proudly. “And I’ve already sent him mine.”

Amrah looked shocked. “You did what? You shouldn’t send him pictures! Remember the trust of marriage.”

Ameela scowled, “Forget that. It’s my life. If you won’t take my picture for him, I’ll do it myself.”

Sighing, Amrah agreed. She took several poses of Ameela—some even inappropriate for a married woman—then selfies together. Ameela chose one for her display picture (DP) and sent the rest to HMM.

Amrah shook her head in disbelief.