Chapter 14
AREZOO
The wedding was winding down.
Most of the guests had eaten and danced and toasted and re-toasted, and the trickling exodus had begun, people calling good night from the edge of the green and waving over their shoulders. The playlist had been switched to softer pieces now, signaling that the party was nearing its end.
The lanterns strung around the perimeter glowed warmly against a sky that had gone navy hours ago.
It was a departure from the usual light curfew practiced in the village, an exception made only for grand celebrations.
Arezoo stood at the edge of the dance platform with her hand in Ruvon's, her feet hurting from wearing heels for too many hours, and yet she didn't want the night to end because she was anxious about what came next.
The beautifully decorated cart was waiting at the edge of the green where it had dropped her off so many hours ago.
Anandur stood beside it, having removed his suit jacket a long time ago, but the bow tie was still crookedly in place.
A few more decorations had been added to the cart.
There were now strings of small white lights wound through the railings, and someone had attached a banner at the back that read, in careful hand-lettering, Just Married.
"Azize delam," her mother said with tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Maman, don't cry."
Her mother pulled her into a hug that was tight enough to make the tulle of Arezoo's skirt crinkle audibly between them, and Arezoo hugged her back, and for a moment, neither of them said anything.
Her mother smelled of the perfume she had put on hours ago and, faintly, of the wine she had allowed herself to drink during the toasts.
It was the smell of her mother, and Arezoo realized that she was not going to fall asleep tonight in a house that smelled of it.
"Joonam," her mother said.
"Maman."
"My first baby. My first to leave."
"I am not leaving. I am only moving a twenty-minute walk away. I will see you tomorrow."
"Twenty minutes is far when you are accustomed to seeing someone every morning." The statement was accompanied by another sniffle.
"It's fifteen minutes if I walk fast."
Her mother smiled. "Not in those shoes."
"I'll not be wearing these shoes tomorrow. In fact, I'll probably never wear them again. They gave me blisters."
"My poor baby." Her mother cupped her cheek. "Take them off on the way home. Ruvon will carry you in." She turned to look at her son-in-law. "Right?"
"Of course."
Her mother held her face in both hands and looked at her with a fierce, quiet pride.
"I can see that you're happy, dokhtaram, and that's all I ever wanted for you."
"I know, Maman."
"Now go. Before I cry even harder." She kissed Arezoo on both cheeks and stepped back.
Yasmin and Parisa moved to brace their sister, holding her by the elbows, and Soraya allowed herself to be held.
Donya came next.
Arezoo had given both her sisters a stern lecture in advance, warning them not to say anything inappropriate at the goodbyes. No teasing jokes about the wedding night, no suggestive winks, and no nudging Ruvon.
She'd promised never to speak to them again if either did any of those things.
Donya had taken the lecture with theatrical solemnity and made a gesture of zipping her lips, which Arezoo hoped had been a real promise and not a ploy.
Donya hugged her hard. "Come home tomorrow and tell Ruvon he can't have you back until after dinner. I need help with my math homework."
"From me?"
"You or Ruvon. I don't care which as long as it's in our house."
Arezoo understood. Her sisters didn't want her out of their lives, and they'd already made room for Ruvon. They were making sure she and Ruvon were clear on that.
"We will be there tomorrow. I promise."
Donya stepped back, and Laleh stepped in with a dangerous gleam in her eyes.
"Don't say anything," Arezoo warned.
"I am not about to say anything that's inappropriate."
"Be careful," Arezoo warned.
Laleh hugged her, briefly and tightly, whispered, "You are the most beautiful bride in the world," and stepped back before Arezoo could respond, which was also a promise kept, because if Laleh had stayed any longer, she would not have been able to stop herself.
Azadeh, Jasmine, and the aunts came in waves. Hugs, well-wishes, instructions about visiting tomorrow, declarations about how proud everyone was of her. Cyra produced a single squashed flower petal that had survived in her basket and presented it to Arezoo. "For luck."
"Thank you, sweetie."
"You can keep it forever."
"I will."
Arezoo tucked the petal into her clutch, and Cyra nodded, satisfied that her offering had been properly received.
Drova came last.
Arezoo had been quietly bracing herself for whatever Drova was going to say.
Drova had spent the last several months scandalizing her with romance novels' sizzling scenes, and Arezoo had been certain that she would deliver some final unfiltered remark designed to send her into the wedding night with her cheeks on fire.
Her best friend walked over with her usual long-legged stride, stopped in front of Arezoo, looked at her, and then pulled her into a hug, which was surprisingly gentle, calibrated exactly to how much pressure was okay to apply to Arezoo's human bones without breaking anything.
Arezoo hugged her back as hard as she could.
"I wish for you and Ruvon to have a good life together," Drova said quietly, into her hair.
"Thank you."
"That's my whole speech."
Arezoo pulled back, looked at her friend and felt, alongside the relief, a slight disappointment. Drova's commentary had been the engine that had pushed Arezoo through every uncomfortable conversation about her wedding night.
She'd been sure that Drova would send her off with one final scandalous comment, and that the comment would carry her into the next part of the night.
But apparently, Drova had decided to behave.
Drova turned to Ruvon. "You treat her right."
"I will."
She offered him her hand, which he took, and the shake lasted a beat longer than a handshake usually did.
"If you don't, I'll make you regret it."
He smiled. "I'm going to spend the rest of my life making Arezoo happy. No threats necessary."
"I know. It is for my own peace of mind."
"I understand."
She released his hand, gave Arezoo one last assessing look, and stepped back.
"Good night, you two," she said.
"Good night, Drova."
Arezoo gathered the front of her skirt, took Ruvon's hand, and got into the cart. He climbed up beside her, and Anandur took the driver's seat.
"Let's go home, my love," Ruvon said.
The cart began to move.
Arezoo braced for Anandur's jokes because that was what Anandur usually did, but instead, he began to sing.
It was a soft song in a language she did not recognize.
Scottish, she thought, or possibly Gaelic.
The melody was slow and rolling, a tune that seemed to climb and fall the way the cart was climbing and falling along the village paths.
Anandur's singing voice was rougher than his speaking voice, but it carried a tenderness she had not heard from him before, and the words, whatever they meant, sounded like words a person used when they were singing about something they loved.
She didn't understand most of them, but she didn't need to. The melody was achingly beautiful, and her eyes misted with tears.
Ruvon's arm came around her shoulders, and she settled her head against him.
"I don't even know what he's singing about," she whispered. "But it makes me emotional."
"I think it's a love song."
"It sounds like it. It's beautiful."
She closed her eyes and listened to the rough warmth of Anandur's voice and the soft creak of the cart over the path. The night air was cool against her face, and Ruvon's body was warm against her side, and for the first time all day, she felt her ribcage expand.
"Are you tired?" Ruvon asked softly against her temple.
She'd been tired for hours.
She'd been on her feet since five that morning, alternately laughing, crying, dancing, and posing for photographs since the ceremony had ended.
She had eaten about a third of what she had been served because her stomach was still being a coward, and there was a part of her that wanted, more than almost anything, to sit down somewhere quiet and take off her shoes.
She could take them off now as her mother had suggested, but she wasn't ready to do that yet.
"I'm tired," she admitted. "But tonight is our night. No matter what."
He laughed, a small soft laugh that she felt against the side of her head.
"It doesn't have to be the night."
"Yes, it does."
"It really doesn't. We have the rest of our lives ahead of us. If you want to take a bath and go to sleep, I am perfectly fine with that."
"No."
"No?"
"No. I am tired, but I am not that tired. Tonight is the night. I've decided."
He chuckled. "All right, then." He kissed the top of her head.
The cart turned onto the small bridge that separated Kalugal's section of the village from the rest of it, and the hollow rumble of the wheels over the wooden boards changed Anandur's song briefly, the rhythm of it adjusting to accommodate the percussion of the bridge.
On the other side, Kalugal's section looked different than the rest of the village, the houses larger and set further apart.
Ruvon's house came into view at the end of the lane.
Arezoo sat up.
It had been decorated.
The front pathway had been lined with blue and white balloons, dozens of them, tied along the path at intervals so that they bobbed in the slight breeze.
Ribbons were strung between the trees on either side, white and blue and pale gold, and there was a banner above the door that read Congratulations.
"Did you do that?" she asked Ruvon.
"No. It wasn't there when I left the house earlier."
"Who did it?"
"No clue, but it was nice of them."
Anandur pulled the cart to a stop, got out, and came around to give her a hand.