First Comes Marriage

by Laila Rafi

Genres: Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

Zafar and Reshma might be husband and wife.
But now it's time to fall in love...

Zafar is the perfect son. After all, he does spend his head buried in the family business and sets the right example for his younger brothers. But being the perfect husband doesn't come so easily to him...

Reshma didn't expect romance when she agreed to marry Zafar. And definitely not love. But there's something just about Zafar Saeed that makes her long for the romance she reads in her books, so falling for him was easy. The only issue is that he barely acknowledges her!

And when Zafar and Reshma are reluctantly swept away to beautiful Mombasa for a family wedding, avoiding each other becomes even trickier. Forced to be in close proximity, Zafar and Reshma are about to discover that sometimes falling in love comes after saying 'I do'.

*Heartwarming and achingly romantic, First Comes Marriage is just the slow-burn, grumpy-sunshine romance you need to read in 2023. Perfect for fans of Sara Desai, Sonali Dev and Talia Hibbert!*

Release date: July 25, 2023

Publisher: Orion

Print pages: 336

Sample

‘Let me get this straight.’ With the strongest of holds on his reflexes, Zafar stopped himself from rolling his eyes. The last thing he wanted or needed right now was his father talking to him as if he were a belligerent teenager – he was thirty-three not thirteen.

Nasir Saeed puffed out his chest, ready to launch into a self-indulgent monologue. As if he hadn’t got himself straight twice already, albeit using different words each time. ‘Reshma went to Mombasa ten days ago for Ruqayyah’s daughter’s wedding and you didn’t go with her.’

Like he had twice already, Zafar nodded, taking a fortifying sip of his coffee. He wanted to lean back and savour the caffeine boost, but if he did that, his father might well blow a hole through the ceiling, thinking that he wasn’t taking this conversation – read, telling-off – seriously.

It wasn’t often Zafar found himself on the receiving end of a verbal pasting from his father. He was the model his father frequently used as a yardstick for his younger brothers and there was an implicit expectation that he would lead his brothers by example. Being at the receiving end of criticism from his father – or anyone else, for that matter – was such a rare occurrence that Zafar didn’t know how to act. Was he supposed to stand up or stay seated? Make eye contact or look down into the dark depths of his coffee?

He decided to stay where he was and switched between making eye contact with his dad and breaking it, while they sat in the room designated as an office in their family home, where his father was catching up on all he’d missed over the past six weeks while he’d been holidaying in Canada with his wife. He’d landed yesterday, while his wife was due back next week, after spending a bit more husband-free time with her family.

‘Why? What were you thinking, son?’

In all his blustering, this was the first time his father had actually asked him for a reason. Zafar took a deep breath and put his mug down in front of him.

‘The hotel deal is at a crucial stage, Dad. I need to be available for it and I can’t afford any distractions.’ The chances were that Reshma was probably happy that he wasn’t there, giving her a chance to have some husband-free time with her family while she enjoyed the various wedding celebrations taking place. She hadn’t said as much, but the thought appealed to his conscience. She got to spend time with her family without him and he got to focus on his work. A win-win scenario.

‘This is not acceptable by any stretch of the imagination, Zafar.’ His father smacked his hand on the table. ‘You’ve not been married coming onto thirty-five years where you can do things like that. You’ve only been married for a year. It’s the first time she’s gone for an event on her family’s side since her own wedding and her husband’s nowhere to be seen. How do you think that reflects? On you? On her? And, most importantly, on the Saeed family name and our reputation? We’ve been family friends of the Mirs since my late father and Reshma’s late grandfather’s childhood. Just under a century. That’s not something to be ignored.’

Zafar squirmed in his seat. His father wasn’t wrong, if a bit dramatic.

But Zafar had different priorities. He had promised his grandfather that he’d take care of the family business just like his grandfather had. That promise preceded all of this – a wedding in the Mir family, his own marriage and relationship with Reshma, keeping up appearances with his in-laws. It even preceded any feelings he might have, which, at that point in time, told him that he knew what he had to do and there was no reason to feel guilty about it.

The door to the study had been left ajar and as it moved open a bit more, Zafar turned to find his grandmother in the doorframe. The menace had probably been standing there the whole time, listening to his dad chew him out and waiting for the right moment to come and interfere.

She swanned in, bringing a wave of her floral perfume in with her. His grandmother, Mumtaz Saeed, while small and dainty, packed a punch enough to fell the greatest of giants. She held the strings of the Saeed family in her little hands and knew exactly when to tighten her grip and when to loosen it.

She walked towards him and dropped a kiss on the top of his head. She could only manage the gesture when he was sitting and she was standing. He succumbed to her affection and then stood up, letting her have his seat, and she took it like a queen taking the throne.

‘Did you not say anything to him, Amma?’ His father addressed his mother. ‘I expected better from him.’

That twisted the knife for Zafar, but he didn’t let it show on his face as he moved towards the faux fireplace and leaned against the mantel, swirling the dregs of his coffee.

‘I did, sweetheart, but Zafar said that his work was at a stage where he couldn’t leave it and so I didn’t push. Perhaps I should have. In fact, I’ve decided that he needs to go to Mombasa after Reshma.’

Zafar straightened at that. Daadi’s voice held a note of steel he seldom heard. It brooked no argument and he had a slim-to-none chance of getting her to change her mind when she took that tone.

‘I’ve also decided that I’ll go with him. It’ll be better if there’s another family member there. I was familiar with Reshma’s grandmother – even if we didn’t always see eye to eye – and I’m fond of the Mir children. Well, at least two of them.’

His father sat back in his chair, his steepled fingers resting against his lips, very Bond-villain-like as he regarded him for a moment before lowering his hands to grip the chair’s armrests and looking at Daadi. ‘Yes, Amma. I agree. I think you going with him will add credence and show support from the head of our family.’

Zafar pushed away from the mantel and took a few steps towards the desk, regarding first his grandmother – who smiled at him warmly – and then his father – who scrutinised him with a pinched mouth and raised eyebrows. ‘Very well. I’ll book tickets so we can make it for the wedding and the reception. That’ll give me some time to sort things out on the work front.’

‘No, no. There’s no need to do that.’ His father shook his head. ‘You’ll take the first available flight and stay there for as long as the wedding events are running. Leave the visas to me, I’ll sort them out. And as for work, you seem to forget, young man, that while I might be semi-retired, it doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how to do the job which I taught you alongside your grandfather. Have some faith in your brother, your best friend and the people we’ve recruited to work with us. I can always step in to help as and when needed. You need to be in Mombasa as of yesterday.’ His tone brooked no argument.

‘Nasir is right, my angel,’ Daadi said, looking at him solemnly. ‘It’s only right that you take out time and spend it with Reshma. She’s such a treasure, does so much for all of us, so it’ll be nice to do something with her on her side of the family, yes?’

Another twist of the knife.

Knowing there was nothing for it, Zafar excused himself, leaving his father and grandmother to talk. He made his way to the kitchen and found his youngest brother wrestling with the oven. He put his mug in the sink and then turned and leaned back against the worktop, watching Haroon, who adjusted the shelves in the oven and turned it on.

‘What are you making?’

‘A Sunday roast. I was craving roast potatoes. But then they’re nice with gravy. And then I thought that I might as well do some meat with the gravy and before I knew it’ – he clicked his fingers – ‘I was doing the whole thing. There’s enough for everyone. I don’t know how to cook for just one person. It’s a dinner party or nothing for me.’

Zafar laughed because he understood that logic perfectly. Haroon had only ever cooked on a scale that fed the entire family, so he only knew how to cook for six or more people. Thankfully he didn’t cook too often.

Contrary to popular belief about big, joint families, theirs had a positive dynamic – most of the time – and they all fitted together like puzzle pieces. Unique in their own way but a part of a whole. There was Daadi and his parents. There was him and his four brothers – Ashar, Ibrahim, Rayyan and Haroon – and since last year there was Reshma, his wife.

Reshma.

The woman after whom he was supposed to fly to the tropical destination of Mombasa, Kenya, and be a part of her cousin’s wedding celebrations. Celebrations which he was sure would go just as well without him. His hotel deal, however, wouldn’t go just as well without him, but he had no choice now. He’d have to go to Mombasa and that was that.

He didn’t mind going as such. It was more the fact that the timing was off. But given that he hadn’t taken more than a week off for his own wedding last year and hadn’t taken any time off since, he wasn’t sure that excuse would wash.

‘Why are you frowning? Did you know that if you frown like that, you’ll get permanent frown lines?’ Harry said as he observed him, a tea towel tucked in his apron pocket and oven gloves in his hands.

‘I’ve got work coming out of my ears, so much that needs my attention and now I have to go to Mombasa for a wedding because Dad and Daadi have said I have to.’

Harry blinked at him, taking a few moments to process what he’d said presumably, before a slow grin spread across his face. ‘You’re going to Mombasa? When? Can I come? No, wait. I can’t come. I told the guys I’d go away with them for a break. Maybe I can join you there.’

‘Stop thinking so hard, mate, you’ll hurt yourself. I’m not going holidaying. I’m going for a wedding. Dad wants me there yesterday, so I’ll probably be leaving tomorrow, unless he finds a flight for tonight.’ Zafar said it sarcastically, but it wasn’t outside the realms of possibility. ‘Feel free to come out there if you want. Though I’m not sure what the accommodation set-up is yet. Maybe let me get there and see how things are.’ He’d never say no to having one of his brothers there with him.

Harry turned back to the worktop and started preparing a salad. ‘Hmm, I probably won’t. It doesn’t make sense to go there but not take part in all the wedding events. That’s the whole fun of it.’ He and his brother had very different ideas about what constituted fun. If only they could swap out. ‘Reshma will be happy to see you. Tell her I miss her.’

Harry and Reshma got along like a house on fire, bonding soon after Zafar had got engaged to her. ‘Well, I’m going upstairs. I need to pack and make sure I squeeze in a catch-up with the others before I have to go. Are Murad and Ibrahim around for lunch?’

‘I think so.’

Zafar hoped so. He needed to bring his friend and now business partner and his brother up to speed as much as he could before he left. He hated having to do this. He had wanted to be here every step of the way for the hotel deal and having to leave it midway like this wound him up. If Reshma hadn’t gone and …

He paused that train of thought before it gathered momentum. He wasn’t being fair here. None of this was on Reshma. It was just the hand they’d been dealt and the best thing – the only thing – he could do was get himself there, see the visit out and come back so he could pick things up where he was leaving them. Who knew, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

A gentle breeze ruffled her hair as warm water rushed over her feet and ankles, and Reshma breathed a soft sigh of contentment. Since coming out to Mombasa, walking along the shoreline had become one of her favourite parts of the day, imbuing her with a sense of peace which she’d felt had eluded her for some time.

In these moments, with just nature for company, she felt as though all was well with the world. Perhaps she was deluding herself, but it beat the alternative of fixating on things she couldn’t change and had zero control over. Like the fact that her marriage hadn’t turned out anything like she’d dreamt it would. Or that rather than come out to Mombasa to her cousin’s wedding with her – and make a short holiday of it – her husband had chosen to stay behind in London and carry on working, much like he had for the entirety of their one-year marriage.

She huffed a sigh of frustration. So much for feeling content in the moment. Inevitably, her thoughts always veered to the same territory and led to her going through a spectrum of emotions. Well, she wasn’t going to let that happen today. She’d do what she had set out to do before coming out for a walk and that was to focus on her latest work project.

She was working on a new website for a small band that were starting out and she was hopeful that if they were happy with her designs, they might well hire her to work on their new album cover too. She’d love to have some variety in the kind of work she did as a freelance graphic designer. She enjoyed the freedom of being able to set her own hours and location of work and being here in Mombasa, with her family, the beach and uninterrupted sunshine, she’d found that she’d been more productive than she’d expected.

She’d moved further along the beach, brainstorming different ideas and making brief notes on her phone when she heard a shriek which had her looking sharply to the left.

A man had his arms wrapped around a woman’s waist from behind as he swung her up and spun around in a circle. The woman shrieked again, but there was mirth in her tone, which had the sense of alarm Reshma had first felt dissipate as she smiled at the scene unfolding before her.

They were obviously together, given the familiarity between the couple and the affection with which he was looking at her. Reshma felt a pang in the region of her heart at the sight. What would it feel like to be looked at like that? As though all his attention was solely for her. To know with absolute certainty that you were wanted, cherished and loved by a person just by the way he looked at you. Touched you. Held you.

The pang in her chest made its presence felt anew. Shaking her head at the futility of her thoughts, Reshma turned and started making her way back towards the villa, where she was staying. There was absolutely no point in letting her thoughts wander down that particular road because there was nothing but potholes of misery and chicanes of disappointment lying in wait for her. Because the truth of the matter was that if he had wanted to be here with her, he would have made the effort to be.

‘Reshma?’ She looked up to find her cousin, Saleema, a few metres ahead of her, panting slightly with her hands on her hips. She moved her arm in a come-on gesture. ‘Hurry up. We need to start getting ready and you promised me you’d help me with my hair.’

‘Yeah, come on. I was on my way back anyway.’ She linked arms with her and they both started walking as Reshma tried to banish the thoughts that had clouded her mind moments ago to focus on the present moment and making the most of being in Mombasa with her family for her cousin’s wedding.

‘Surprise!’

Reshma froze on the bottom step, grateful that the loud cheer hadn’t caused her to lose her footing in her high-heeled sandals. She blinked a few times in … well, surprise, as she took in the sight in front of her, slowly cataloguing everyone’s bright smiley faces, her own face sporting both a frown and a smile. It wasn’t a great expression, but that’s what confusion looked like on her.

It wasn’t her birthday and she was pretty sure there was no big achievement worth celebrating recently, so she had absolutely no idea why she was being surprised like this.

And then her eyes landed on him.

It was Zafar.

Her husband. The man she had left behind in London. Or rather, the man who had chosen to stay behind and work rather than spend a few weeks with her.

She blinked a few more times, unsure if she was seeing things or if he was really there. He was the last person she had expected to see that evening. Or at all during this trip, really. Hadn’t he made his feelings about coming with her crystal clear?

He lifted one eyebrow before a corner of his mouth slowly turned up, very much there. She wasn’t seeing things after all.

He looked as handsome as always, immaculately dressed in dark trousers and a light grey shirt, his jaw was clean-shaven and his hair was neatly styled in short layers. His grin broadened a fraction as he tilted his head to the side ever so slightly and Reshma felt a spark of joy light inside her at the sight of him as her tummy did a little somersault.

Zafar was here. He’d actually come.

Those two thoughts circled in her mind a couple of times before coming to a standstill as she processed them fully.

Zafar was here?! Why?

The small spark of joy she’d felt seconds ago metamorphosised into uncertainty, slowly engulfing the joy she’d experienced until it was entirely gone. She was sure the change in her reaction was visible on her face because she saw the shift in his expression before he turned and looked pointedly down at the person standing beside him.

Reshma moved her eyes that way too and was surprised anew when she saw his grandmother standing beside him, her face wreathed in smiles as she slowly lifted her arms and beckoned Reshma to come forward.

‘Daadi?’ This time, there was definitely joy in her reaction and she let it spill forth, ignoring her bewilderment momentarily as she stepped forward and hugged Daadi, inhaling her signature floral scent.

‘Hello, sweetheart. How did you like our first surprise?’

Reshma eased back and held onto Daadi’s hands as she took in her sweet face. ‘I’m over the moon to see you.’ Which she was, it was no lie. She couldn’t say exactly the same about her grandson, but she also couldn’t say as much to his grandmother.

When Reshma had spoken to Zafar about coming to Mombasa for Saleema’s wedding, he’d refused to even entertain the idea. He’d told her how important his work was and how he couldn’t afford to leave it and ‘go off to some destination wedding with her’.

She’d stewed on that for quite some time, going through various thoughts, and at the end of all that thinking – and a blinding headache because of it – she’d come to the conclusion that his refusal had bothered her and it wasn’t just about going to Saleema’s wedding. It was more than that. So much more than that. But the invitation to Saleema’s wedding had ended up becoming a catalyst for her. It had sparked Reshma into thinking very carefully about Zafar, their marriage, her place in his life and his home and, most importantly she supposed, it had forced her to think about herself. About who she was, where she was and where she wanted to be. Of course, there were additional hows and whats that could be included and answered, but the point was that she’d had some choices and decisions to make. Was she going to simply accept Zafar’s refusal and choose not to attend Saleema’s wedding in Mombasa or was she going to do something else?

Given the fact that she was standing in the front courtyard of a complex of villas her aunt and uncle had hired for their daughter’s wedding, in Mombasa, she had chosen to do something else.

What didn’t fit the narrative, however, was Zafar’s sudden appearance. It really was a surprise and then Reshma remembered Daadi’s words.

She glanced around her and behind Daadi. ‘You said first surprise. What’s the second?’

‘Surprise!’ Reshma turned to look behind her as the sound of her uncle Jawad’s voice boomed across the space, drowning out the voices of his immediate family who stood beside him. She wasn’t expecting them to arrive until the following week.

She beamed at them as she made her way towards them, hugging her two cousins and aunt before she was enveloped by the arms of her beloved uncle. He squeezed her against himself and Reshma rested her head against his broad chest, heaving a sigh of contentment. It didn’t matter how old she was, this was the one place where she felt most at peace.

They eased away from each other and he smiled down at her. ‘We managed to get early flights and brought Auntie Mumtaz and Zafar along with us to surprise you. Happy?’

Reshma looked at all the faces around her, their attention solely on her and her reaction. She jerked her head up and down in a nod and heard a collective ‘Aww’ from everyone. What could she have said anyway?

I’m happy to see you Uncle Jawad, the family, and Daadi. But Zafar?

It wasn’t that she didn’t want him there.

She did, very much so, that’s why she’d asked him to come in the first place, but after his blatant refusal to even consider the idea of coming here with her, she couldn’t understand what had prompted him to change his mind. She was truly baffled by this turnaround.

Her aunt Ruqayyah – her father’s sister and the bride’s mother – chose that moment to step forward.

‘It’s been so hard to keep this secret from you since yesterday, but worth it. Are you happy, my darling?’

Reshma looked at the exuberance on her aunt’s face and smiled back at her as her cousin, Khalil, moved forward, throwing his arm across her shoulders before she could respond to her aunt.

‘Everyone got a hug. But poor Zafar, who has come all the way from London to be here with you, barely got a nod. Don’t be shy on our account, cuz. If you would prefer, we can all look the other way.’

Reshma felt her cheeks warm.

‘Behave yourself, Khalil, and stop embarrassing them.’ Auntie Ruqayyah – thankfully – stopped her son from making things any more awkward and addressed Daadi. ‘Auntie Mumtaz, we’ve been invited by Saleema’s fiancé and his family for dinner tonight. I told them that you and Zafar and Jawad and his family will be with us too, but I was wondering if you’d like to have a bit of a rest before we leave? I’m sure they won’t mind us getting there in two groups.’

‘No, no, Ruqayyah, please don’t change your plans, and certainly not on my account. I’m actually feeling fine to come along, especially after that little rest at your place just now while we waited for the girls to get ready. We can all leave together as you’d originally planned to.’

Reshma was about to move off when Khalil’s arm, which was still slung over her shoulders, tightened. He lowered his head and whispered to her out of the corner of his mouth. ‘The adults are distracted. You should use the opportunity to—’

‘Go away.’ She pushed him away and he staggered back, laughing. ‘I don’t need you meddling, thank you very much. Especially if you don’t even identify as an adult, even though you’re creeping closer to thirty with each day.’

Before he could respond, his father called him away and Reshma turned and faced Saleema, who had come down the steps with her but, at just the right moment, had raced ahead and now Reshma knew. . .