She looked at him, sending daggers his way. "You're going to your own wedding Fatiha right now; that's what's wrong?" She spat. He shrugged his shoulder and let go of her hand. "We spoke about this last night. I was supposed to be with my guest at the hotel yesterday but I spent the whole day with you to make you feel better but you're acting the same way as you always do. Please learn to be grateful, for once in your life."

He adjusted his neatly ironed Babban Riga that was hanging on ...