Having just turned 27 the year I married Azhar*, I was young, single, and yearned to follow the path my parents had mapped out for me. Azhar wasn’t what you would call my husband of choice, but I trusted in my parents’ decision as I believed it was rooted in the guidance of our God.
GETTING TO KNOW EACH OTHER
The first three months of our marriage were handled with care and trepidation – we took it slowly by first getting to know each other as friends. That wasn’t terribly difficult as Azhar was a gentleman. He knew all the right things to say and do to ease me into our marriage, allowing me to become comfortable around him.
I blossomed from being a shy woman to someone who dared to crack jokes and share intimate stories with him. Even when our families started pressing us about our future plans together, we stuck to learning the nooks and crannies of our relationship. It didn’t take long for me to realise I was falling in love with my husband.
A GROWING VOID
But, it didn’t take long either for cracks to show. Sometime around the eight month of our marriage, a different side to him appeared. He started becoming aloof and distant – a far cry from the man who used to make me smile with his light-hearted chatter. In fact, most of his time was spent staring at his phone.
Of course, I realised this was a problem, but I was in denial and feared that confronting him would create unnecessary pressure. And so, I gave him space, while trying hard to engage him from time to time in hopes that our camaraderie would return. Alas, all my efforts were in vain but I remained faithful, believing that patience was the key.
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