Substitute Groom

"Arslan is my best friend, Ba. Not... not my fiancé," Mala whispered, her voice suddenly small.

Her father let out a heavy sigh. "He's more deserving than Reymon. At least Arslan won't run away and leave you at the altar."

That sentence cut deeper into Arslan than he expected. His eyes searched Mala's, seeking permission, understanding, or perhaps a glimmer of hope. But all he found was her pale face, lips bitten so hard they were nearly bleeding.

"I'm just her friend," Arslan suddenly spoke, his voice low but firm. "But if Mala needs..."

"NO!" Mala cut him off, covering her ears. "Don't play the hero by sacrificing your own feelings, Arslan! I know you're just trying to help, but..."

Arslan stepped closer, his movements heavy. In his eyes was a storm he had long suppressed. Longing hidden behind laughter. Fear of losing, masked by nonchalance.

"I never saw this as a sacrifice," he whispered, just for her to hear. "But if you truly refuse, I'll step aside."

But Mala's father caught the whisper. "Do you want our family to be humiliated, Arslan?" he snapped, deliberately using Arslan's name as a shield. "You're the one who always said Mala was like a sister to you. This is your chance to prove it!"

Mala looked at Arslan. Beneath his composure, she saw the flicker of pain, like a child being forced to give up his last cherished toy.

Suddenly, she remembered—fifteen years ago, Arslan had given her his only portion of instant noodles, saying, "I'm not hungry," even though his stomach was growling. 

And now, she saw the same Arslan. Willing to swallow the bitterness of rejection for the sake of someone else's happiness.

Meanwhile, Arslan looked at Mala with an expression she couldn't decipher. There was pain, confusion, and something else she didn't dare to name.

"I... I'm ready," Arslan's voice was quiet but firm.

Mala jolted. Why? Why did he agree so quickly?

Her father nodded in satisfaction, while her mother closed her eyes, trying to hold back tears.

"But..." Mala opened her mouth, yet no words came out.

Arslan met her gaze, deeper this time. "Mal, I don't want to see you humiliated," he said. "I don't want to see your family disgraced."

Mala shook her head. "But Arslan... this is marriage. It's not something you take lightly."

"I know."

"This will change everything. Our friendship. Our lives."

"I know."

"Baba…" Mala suddenly felt weak. "Give us time. Just five minutes."

Her father let out a heavy sigh, then reluctantly nodded. As he stepped out of the room, Mala took a deep breath.

"You don't have to do this," she whispered to Arslan.

But Arslan only gave her a faint, bittersweet smile. "You once said that a true friend should have the courage to be honest. So let me be honest just this once."

His hand trembled as he touched her cheek. "I'm not agreeing to marry you just to save your family. But, because…"

His voice broke. Outside, the sound of salawat echoed, the ceremony was about to begin.

"Because?" Mala whispered, her heart pounding.

Her fingers clenched. A small part of her felt relieved, but another part was terrified.

Arslan took a deep breath and spoke, his voice lower now, almost a whisper. "I'd rather lose my status as your friend… than lose you forever."

Mala held her breath. What did he mean?

Meanwhile, outside the room, the marriage officiant checked his watch again. The guests whispered among themselves, the atmosphere growing more restless.

Mala's father returned to the room and patted Arslan's shoulder. "If you're ready, let's begin the ceremony."

Arslan nodded.

Mala remained silent. Her hands trembled as her mother gently held them.

"Sweetheart…" her mother's soft voice broke the silence.

Mala looked into her mother's face. There was pain there, but also hope.

And in front of her stood Arslan, her childhood friend, his eyes filled with determination. In her chest, something unfamiliar slowly began to take root.

Mala took a deep breath.

"Let's go," she said softly. "Let's go outside."

Her steps felt heavy. Her heart was still clouded with uncertainty.

But beside her, Arslan walked with steady confidence.

Was this fate? Or just a rushed decision she would regret later?

The atmosphere inside the marriage ceremony room fell into a hush as Arslan took his seat in front of the officiant. He sat upright on the intricately carved wooden chair.

The marriage officiant reopened the ceremony in a calm voice, reciting a prayer before guiding Arslan through the sacred marriage declaration.

Arslan firmly grasped the hand of the bride's marriage guardian, Mala's own father. His lips trembled slightly, but his eyes held an unwavering resolve.

"In the name of God, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful..." the officiant began, silencing the curious whispers among the guests.

Mala remained at the threshold of her room. She could feel her heart racing, as if warning her that her life was about to change within mere minutes.

"Ali Arslan Bey bin Abu Bakar, are you ready to marry Malaika Fatimah binti Al Ghazali?"

"I am ready," Arslan answered firmly. His voice echoed through the room, causing a few guests to gasp.

The officiant then pronounced the marriage declaration in a resounding voice, but to Mala, everything sounded muffled.

"I accept the marriage of Malaika Fatimah binti Al Ghazali with a dowry of one gram of gold and the memorization of Surah Ar-Rahman, paid in full."

It was done. The sacred words flowed so smoothly from his lips that even he was surprised. As if they had escaped without his permission. Arslan looked up, toward where Mala was. His breath hitched.

"It's official! You are now husband and wife," the marriage officiant declared.

The witnesses unanimously declared, "It's official!"

The room erupted in cheers. Congratulations filled the air, but to Mala, it was nothing more than a distant hum from another dimension. Her fingers clenched the fabric of her white gown, her body feeling weightless, almost as if she were floating outside herself.

The soft melody of salawat echoed through the walls of the room where Mala stood. At the doorway, her wedding dress rustled, whispering like nature itself was warning her.

Arslan remained seated in front of the officiant, but his usually composed gaze flickered, dancing between hope and unease every time he glanced at the staircase where Mala would soon descend.

Mala gripped her mother's hand tightly. The first step down the stairs felt like stepping onto a minefield. Below, Arslan turned. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second that stretched into eternity.

Never in her life had Mala imagined marrying Arslan. To her, he had always been a friend, someone constant, someone who supported her without expecting anything in return. And now, he was her husband.

Meanwhile, the guests whispered among themselves, marveling at how lucky Mala was to have Arslan, a man known for his loyalty and sense of responsibility.

But Mala knew this was not just about luck. It was about two hearts now bound by a bond that should be nothing more than just friendship.

As she reached him, Arslan extended his hand.

Mala froze. Her gaze shifted between his face and his outstretched hand, as if struggling to believe that she had actually married her best friend.

Her father stepped closer. "Go on, dear. Greet your husband!"

Mala stared at Arslan's waiting hand. Her heart pounded with confusion, beating between gratitude, shock, and disbelief. The air around them felt warm, though hushed whispers still lingered in the room.

She could feel her pulse racing as she slowly placed her hand in Arslan's. Their skin touched, sending a delicate tremor through her, an unfamiliar yet undeniable sensation.

"Dear God, this is real," she thought. "I'm truly his wife, my own best friend's wife."

Gently, Arslan guided Mala's hand to his lips. His eyes flickered toward hers, as if seeking reassurance that everything was fine. But in Arslan's gaze, Mala saw both hesitation and hope, a storm of emotions that mirrored her own.

After shaking Arslan's hand, Mala lowered her head. A strange sensation coursed through her as Arslan softly brushed the top of her head. In the stillness, he leaned in and pressed a warm kiss against her forehead.

Mala gasped. That fleeting silence felt like a deep breath seeping into her soul. The warmth on her forehead ignited an indescribable stir within her, a feeling of safety, yet also fear, as if she were standing at the edge of an unexpected happiness.

"Can I truly accept Arslan as my husband?"

The question echoed in her mind, unanswered. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to grasp the tremor flowing through her veins.

Amidst the growing hum of guests offering their congratulations, Mala remained lost in her own emotions. Yet, she couldn't deny the warmth she felt near Arslan, a feeling she might have overlooked all these years.

Arslan gazed at her gently, his eyes silently saying, "It's okay. I'll wait until you're truly ready."

Mala swallowed hard, taking a deep breath before nodding slightly. She knew this new journey with Arslan wouldn't be easy. But at least, she wasn't alone anymore. She had a best friend, and now a husband, who was willing to hold her hand through the uncertainty.

The evening sun cast a golden glow over the pool's surface, wrapping Mala and Arslan in its warm embrace. Her wedding gown shimmered under the amber light, while Arslan's black suit appeared even sharper against the sky's changing hues.

The photographer eagerly directed their poses by the poolside. "A little to the left, Mrs... Perfect! Now, Sir, place your hand gently on her waist."

Mala held her breath as Arslan's hand met her side. His touch was warm, sending a subtle current from her ribs down her spine. It felt different from the casual touches of their usual friendship.

She tried to smile naturally, but the corners of her eyes tensed, her chin quivering slightly. It's just a photoshoot, she reminded herself. You've been friends for fifteen years. Relax.

Arslan's palm trembled slightly as it rested on Mala's waist. The soft fabric of her gown traced delicate curves beneath his fingertips. Fifteen years of friendship, yet only now did he realize how perfectly her form fit within his grasp.

"Are you okay?" Arslan whispered, his warm breath brushing against the strands of hair near Mala's ear. His voice was low, vibrating in the intimate space between her shoulder and neck.

Mala nodded stiffly, but her right hand clutched at the folds of her gown, wrinkling the fabric. Her heels wobbled on the damp poolside.

"Ah!" she gasped as her right foot slipped.

The world spun.

"Careful!" Arslan's voice rasped near her temple, his breath hitching. His fingers clamped around her right arm with enough force to send a jolt through her muscles.

Before she could plunge into the water, Arslan's arm swept around her from behind. His chest pressed firmly against her back. His rapid heartbeat pounded through the layers of his suit, syncing with the wild rhythm in her own chest.

His left hand, in a desperate attempt to steady her, landed just below her chest.

Mala froze. Heat flooded her cheeks as she realized the position they were in. A position that made her choke on embarrassment. Arslan, too, stiffened. His breath catching in his throat.