For nearly an hour, Aishla stood in front of the camera. Just as her mother-in-law had wanted, she once again became an impromptu model beside her sick son.
Not far from them, Arrayyan watched in silence. The boy had grown bored in his room and ended up watching his papa and bunda, who looked perfectly matched. Arrayyan's condition had improved a little. His fever had gone down, too.
“Papa,” Arrayyan called weakly.
Arsyan turned and walked toward his son while looking over the photos he had taken. A smile unconsciously formed on his lips. Even in her modest clothing, nothing could diminish the beauty radiating from Aishla's face.
For a moment, Arsyan thought of Alisya. He glanced at his son, hoping Arrayyan wouldn't ask about his former stepmother-to-be. He still had no idea where Alisya was. Arsyan felt that someone had deliberately hidden her from him.
“Mr. Arsyan, we're finished, right? If so, Aishla wants to change clothes,” Aishla asked her husband, who was standing with his back to her.
When he failed to respond, the girl made a unilateral decision. She walked away from the backyard toward her room without waiting for Arsyan to answer.
“Hey! Wait for me, Array!” Arrayyan shouted, bringing his bunda to a halt.
Aishla bit her lower lip and slowly turned around. She raised one eyebrow at her son as he approached. When he reached her, Arrayyan shot her a sharp look. Then he turned his head toward his papa, who was still focused on the camera in his hands.
“Don't even think about taking Papa away from Mama Alisya!” he yelled, successfully grabbing Arsyan's attention. The man in his thirties gave a faint smile as he watched Aishla stand frozen. “Because Papa and Mama Alisya are Array's parents!”
Aishla nodded slowly and lowered herself to her son's eye level. She was self-aware enough to understand that she could never replace Alisya in their lives. Even though they had only just met, she could tell that Alisya was someone they both loved dearly. Anatasya simply didn't like the woman her son had chosen.
“Yes, Bunda knows. Now, eat and take your medicine again, okay, Array? So you'll get better soon,” she said, but Arrayyan ignored her.
Instead, her son simply walked away, leaving his bunda staring blankly after him.
Aishla lowered her head and wiped away the tears pressing at the corners of her eyes. They were all she had now. She would try to win the boy's heart. But Arsyan was another matter. She would have to think twice before trying that. Arsyan could never love her. Besides, Arsyan wasn't Aishla's idea of husband material.
“Arsyan! Aishla!” a middle-aged woman shouted as she walked toward them.
Arsyan let out a long sigh. He remembered the wedding invitation for his mother's friend's child. He guessed his mother would ask him to attend with Aishla. He really didn't want to introduce the hijab-wearing girl to his business associates, most of whom flaunted their bodies. Aishla was nothing like them; she covered herself completely.
“Ma'am,” Aishla greeted her, kissing the back of her mother-in-law's hand.
“So? You're done with the photos, right? I want to see them, Syan!” Anatasya snatched the camera from her son's hand.
The corners of the woman's lips lifted when she saw the incredible photos Arsyan had taken. In addition to being talented in business, Arsyan was also skilled at photography. Unfortunately, he had to set that talent aside to run the Arkatama family's business.
“Arsyan's tired. He wants to sleep,” Arsyan said, making Aishla turn toward him.
By accident, their eyes met for several seconds. In the end, Aishla was the one who broke eye contact with the former widower.
“Aishla, is there anyone at the boutique who's good at editing photos? I want to cover your face. It would be dangerous if any shameless eyes dared to enjoy the beauty of Mr. Arsyan's wife.” Anatasya giggled at her last remark.
She knew Arsyan very well. He hated having anything that belonged to him easily exposed to the public, especially Aishla, who was now his wife. Arsyan might not love Aishla yet, but Anatasya was certain that one day her son would love his daughter-in-law. And Aishla would love him in return.
“Aishla will ask Salwa later, Ma'am.”
After that, they went inside the house together. Aishla took the initiative to make her mother-in-law some hot tea. Then they became engrossed in a conversation about Aishla's friends at the boutique. Salwa and the others felt lonely without Aishla there. They all missed the devout girl who often reminded them to pray and frequently invited them to pray together at the nearest mosque.
“Aishla misses them, Ma'am,” Aishla said, clearly longing for her friends.
After becoming a wife, she rarely used her phone anymore. Aishla tried to keep herself busy with housework while thinking of ways to win Arsyan's and Arrayyan's hearts.
“Just go visit the boutique, La. You only need to tell Mr. Jamal,” Anatasya replied, sensing the obvious longing in her eyes.
Aishla gave a faint smile. She didn't dare ask that man for permission, preferring to keep all her wishes to herself. Living at the Arkatama residence was more than enough. She didn't need to worry about making ends meet, since Arsyan covered all her expenses.
“Yes, Ma'am. Aishla will visit the boutique later.”
When the call to prayer rang out, they ended their conversation. The two women returned to their respective rooms. Aishla froze when she saw her husband and son sleeping soundly. Part of her wanted to wake them, but she didn't dare. She was fully aware that she was nobody to them. She was only a replacement bride.
Not wanting to disturb them, the girl walked quietly to the wardrobe and slowly opened its door. Then she went to the bathroom to freshen up. Aishla looked like a thief, doing everything with extreme caution.
A few minutes later...
The squeak of the door made Arsyan immediately close his eyes. He wasn't actually asleep. For some reason, he felt curious about the girl. He thought Aishla would wake him, but she didn't. Arsyan's eyes flew wide open when a cold hand touched his skin.
“Don't touch me!” Arsyan shouted at his wife, who immediately lowered her head.
“I'm sorry. Aishla didn't mean to touch you, Mr. Arsyan. Aishla only wanted to wake you up. Ma'am said you had to attend her friend's child's wedding,” Aishla said quickly.
Whether Arsyan heard her clearly or not, she didn't care. The girl hurriedly turned around and went back into the bathroom to perform ablution and pray Asr.
“What was she talking about?” Arsyan muttered, staring after her in confusion.
This was the only time Arsyan had followed his mother's wishes and agreed to attend a wedding. A mocking look greeted Aishla as she emerged from the bathroom.
Arsyan shrugged indifferently when the girl came running over. Unwilling to pay her any attention, he went into the bathroom, leaving Aishla cursing her own stupidity. She hadn't meant to touch her husband. But because she had been entrusted with a message from her mother-in-law, Aishla had no choice but to wake Arsyan.
“Oh, Allah, oh, Allah, Aishla didn't mean to touch that lecherous widower,” she whispered with her eyes squeezed shut.
She regretted what had just happened. If she hadn't remembered Anatasya's request, Aishla would never have woken her husband. She had been forced to because only an hour remained before the wedding reception.
After putting on her prayer garment, Aishla performed the Asr prayer. At the same time, Arsyan emerged from the bathroom. The man froze when he saw his wife praying for the second time that day. For a moment, he felt ashamed of how far he had drifted from God. Arsyan only prayed twice a year, on the two days of Eid. Aishla's presence struck a nerve.
Arsyan exhaled deeply and walked toward the wardrobe. He raised an eyebrow when he realized that there was one more wardrobe in his room than before.
Not wanting to overthink it, he randomly opened one of the doors. His cheeks immediately flushed. Arsyan had opened the wrong door—it was the wardrobe containing his wife's clothes. More specifically, Aishla's underwear.
“Damn it!” he muttered, then slammed the wardrobe door shut. The resulting bang was loud enough to scare anyone who heard it half to death.
“Astaghfirullah!” Aishla cried, clutching her pounding chest. She had just finished praying and had been startled by the slamming door.
Arsyan hurried out of the room after getting dressed, ignoring the stunned look fixed on him.
“Aren't you going to pray Asr first, Mr. Arsyan?” Aishla asked, making him stop.
“None of your business!” Arsyan snapped before continuing on his way and leaving Aishla behind with a faint smile. The girl realized that her presence truly wasn't wanted.
“Get ready quickly and come with me to the wedding!” Arsyan ordered from the doorway, his back to Aishla as she hurried to grab her hijab and put it on.
“Yes, sir, just a second!” she called a little louder when she heard his footsteps moving away and descending the stairs.
Aishla rushed after her husband, who was sitting in the family room with Anatasya. She bit her lower lip when Arsyan stared intently at her face. Aishla knew what she'd done wrong: she hadn't put on any makeup at all. She was sure her husband wanted to complain, but what could she do? She didn't know how to wear makeup.
“Mama, are you sure you want me to take her?!” Arsyan said, unable to understand how the girl could have such a bare face without a single feature enhanced by makeup.
“Aishla still looks beautiful without makeup, Syan! Just imagine how she'll look with it. Get ready to burn with jealousy when all those shameless eyes stare at your wife's face!” Anatasya retorted as she ushered her daughter-in-law toward the bedroom. She was going to put her makeup skills to work and make Aishla look gorgeous, dazzling, and absolutely stunning—enough to leave her son spellbound.
Just as his mother had predicted, by the time they arrived at the reception hall, plenty of men were staring at Aishla. She followed Arsyan's instructions and pretended they were a married couple. Right now, she was holding on to Arsyan's arm with her head bowed.
“Why do they keep staring at Aishla? Does Aishla look ugly?” she asked softly.
Arsyan turned toward her, then looked straight ahead again. “Yeah. You look ugly, like an ondel-ondel,” he shot back, earning a pinch on his muscular arm.