Asher grinned, taking another drag. “Never underestimate yourself, Tovah. There's a fierce intelligence in those eyes of yours.”

  The compliment painted her cheeks a rosy hue. Words eluded her, and she hoped her silent gratitude spoke volumes, hoping he understood her heart even when her voice trailed away.

  Asher's demeanor remained unflappable, even as the weight of the evening seemed to press in on him. Every so often, he'd look to Tovah and inquire about the state of their chosen corridor, and she would reassure him that it remained untouched and unnoticed.

  "You're safe with me," Tovah vowed, her earnestness evident in her deep-set eyes, a shimmer reflecting the dim lighting of the corridor. “I'd never do anything to betray your trust."

  Every time she said something heartfelt like that, Asher's grin would light up the dim hallway, illuminating his chiseled features. It was a smile that held the promise of a thousand sunsets, making it all too clear to Tovah why Ruth had fallen head over heels for him. It wasn't just his good looks but that uncanny ability to make the person in front of him feel like the center of the universe.

  Once Asher had inhaled the last drag of his cigarette, he moved to leave the restroom, but Tovah, with an urgency born of deeply held beliefs, held him back. "Wash your hands first," she cautioned, her voice laced with a whisper of fear. "Or else malicious spirits might follow you."

  Though many dismissed such notions as mere myths, Tovah stood unwavering in her faith in them. Despite her family often brushing them aside as antiquated tales, she felt an undeniable connection to these ancient stories. And today, of all days, she refused to take any chances on Asher's behalf.

  Chuckling, Asher complied, dousing his hands under the faucet. "One can never be too careful, can they?" His eyes twinkled with mischief.

  As he rejoined her, she curiously pointed at the ornate design of the lighter he held. “The snake…aren’t you afraid of them?”

  His face softened as he extended the lighter to her, revealing its intricately designed golden snake. "Actually, when I was a kid, a buddy of mine had one as a pet."

  Intrigued, she leaned in, "A real snake? Up close? Did it ever try to bite?”

  He chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Snakes often get a bad reputation, but just like any creature, they react out of fear. They're not inherently malevolent. They're simply creatures of instinct, some misunderstood and others, well, just creatures."

  Tovah smiled, her heart swelling with admiration for this fascinating man who could find beauty in the most unlikely of places. They might have come from very different worlds, but it seemed that Asher and Tovah shared a common appreciation for the strange and mysterious.

  For the first time since getting to know one another, it felt like they were no longer strangers but rather kindred spirits, willing and eager to share a meaningful conversation alongside secret moments.

  Emerging from their secluded corridor and stepping back into the vibrant heart of the synagogue, they were immediately spotted. Joseph, one of the best men, with his tawny, untamed hair and a nose that told tales of past misadventures, made a beeline for them. His tie hung askew, and his kippa teetered to the side, a testament to the whirlwind nature of the day's events.

  Joseph's exclamation echoed across the marble floor, his footsteps ringing in the grandeur of the synagogue. “There you are!” Grasping Asher's hand with an urgency that spoke of missed moments and lost opportunities, he huffed, “You need to be in this shot. Why the disappearing act during photo sessions?”

  Raising an eyebrow and with a touch of exasperation in his voice, Asher retorted, “Do you really want an answer? Because it’s simple—I loathe being in the spotlight, and cameras make it worse.”

  Joseph adjusted his grip on Asher’s arm, ensuring he couldn’t escape. “You reek of smoke. Ruth will be able to tell. Luckily, I've got cologne.”

  Asher shot him a bemused look. “You came prepared with cologne?”

  Joseph sighed dramatically. “With you as a friend? Always. Now come. The photographer’s insistence is non-negotiable. You're the groom; you can't duck out of every photo.”

  Exhaling a sigh that spoke volumes of his reluctance, Asher conceded, “Fine.”

  To Tovah, watching the scene unfold, it seemed a touch unfair. Here was Asher, on his special day, yet being herded around, told what to do, where to stand. Perhaps that's why they had such a connection. Both of them, in their unique circumstances, were bystanders to the demands of those around them.

  She proffered the intricate snake lighter back to Asher, but he gently curled her fingers around it. The warmth of his touch lingered, and in his eyes danced a depth of understanding.

  “Hold onto it for me,” Asher murmured. “Considering I don’t smoke anymore.”

  His words held a playful undertone, and as Joseph practically dragged him away for the impending photograph, he threw Tovah a conspiratorial wink.

  But now, Tovah faced a slight predicament. With a dress void of pockets, where would she stow the lighter? Glancing around in minor desperation, she found a secluded spot by the synagogue's entrance. As she discreetly placed the lighter behind some moss-covered stones, a piercing voice cut through the calm.

  “Tovah!”

  Maria. With her almost glass-shattering pitch that Tovah found grating. She should engage, she knew. Rudeness was discouraged, especially today. Ruth had made Tovah promise, just last night, to be on her best behavior.

  However, the ceremony hadn't commenced. Technicalities.

  As Maria, with only a year’s seniority over Tovah, dashed up the pathway, her parents trudging behind, a brief internal debate waged in Tovah's mind. The wedding was yet to begin. Could she risk being slightly impolite? The sheer thought of enduring Maria's company nudged her decision.

  Maria was insufferable. Tovah couldn’t help it.

  With that, Tovah made a swift about-face, darting back into the sanctuary of the synagogue, the weighty wooden doors creating a barrier between her and the world outside.

  5

  The Tisch

  The soulful hum of the kabbalot panim echoed through the room, the warmth of greetings exchanged and the fabric of tradition felt deeply as kippot were handed out to unfamiliar heads. Mostly those from Asher's family tree and friends from Ruth's kaleidoscope of school memories.

  The tisch, though short-lived, had been a whirlwind of voices, followed by the sacred signing of the ketubah and the poignant veiling ceremony. Now, on the cusp of the main event, Asher felt a familiar restlessness. A craving for the nicotine fix that used to soothe his nerves. He silently thanked the stars for handing over the lighter to Tovah, else he might have thrown caution to the wind.

  In the audience, Tovah sat, her eyes like vast pools, waiting for her abba to join her. There was an air of anticipation, heightened by the fast that Ruth had insisted upon. A hunger pang reminded him of the impending feast, their first meal as a wedded pair. Yet, his hunger wasn’t just physical.

  Despite the buzz and fervor of the occasion, Asher couldn’t help but feel a little distant from the traditions Ruth and her father held dear. For him, the allure of the night ahead outweighed the significance of the traditions they were observing.

  The most palpable loneliness, though, came with his walk to the chuppah. The aisle seemed longer and the void in his heart, deeper. Without his parents, taken tragically in their youth, or his doting grandparents who were no longer with him, he felt a noticeable emptiness. The memory of their love still seared his heart, a love cut short by fate's cruel whims. Their absence today, particularly poignant.

  Although he never daydreamed about nuptials in his younger days, now that the moment was here, Asher longed for his family. Many friends had come to support him, but the tradition prevented any of them from sharing this walk with him. So, he treaded the path down the aisle alone, each step a reminder of solitude.

  Reaching the end, the rabbi, sensing perhaps the weight on Asher's shoulders, gently took his hands, pressing a tender kiss on the knuckles. The brief prayer whispered by the rabbi felt like a balm. As Asher settled into his place, Ruth graced the aisle next, her father by her side. The very sight reignited the sting of Asher's missing family, but it also brought to mind the enigma of Ruth's mother: alive, yet conspicuously absent, lost in the world's vast embrace.

  The chasm between Ruth and her mother had lasted years, but in a hopeful gesture, Ruth had extended an olive branch—an invitation bearing words of forgiveness and a plea to join their wedding celebration. Yet, it had been returned, a cold slap of reality, with the stark message: "DOES NOT LIVE AT THIS ADDRESS."

  This had left Ruth with just one arm to cling to.

  The shadows of disappointment had briefly clouded their wedding preparations, but today, under the spotlight, Ruth radiated a joy that seemed untainted by the past. Ahmed, with an unmistakable tenderness, linked his arm with hers, moving forward with the subtle hesitation of a father torn between joy and the melancholy of letting go.

  Ruth looked ethereal.

  The pristine white of her gown illuminated her, contrasting beautifully with her dusky skin. Her raven-black hair cascaded down, shrouded by the gossamer curtain of her veil. The tableau was poignant—Ruth, Ahmed, the rabbi, and him. But Asher sensed an imbalance, a palpable distance that sent shivers down his spine.

  A cold knot of unease lodged itself in his stomach.

  While Tovah might dance with superstitions, Asher was the kind of man who laughed in the face of black cats, stepped on cracks without a second thought, and rarely paused to acknowledge the mezuzah when entering or leaving. He championed the idea that life's tapestry was woven with individual threads; what might be a sweet indulgence for one could be a forbidden fruit for another.

  And here he stood, enveloped in a ceremony steeped in traditions that echoed more the desires of his bride's father than his own or even Ruth’s.

  Each ritual, each word, each gesture held a depth of meaning, many of which Ruth had tried to imbue in him during their hurried lessons. His devotion wasn’t rooted in faith, but in love. He'd committed to converting for Ruth, yet he'd chosen to delve deeper after their vows, to truly understand and embrace their shared path. He promised himself to be there beside her, to learn the hymns, the chants, and the significance behind them. To be the partner she deserved.

  Yet there remained that lurking fear, that after all this, Ruth might change.

  His reflections were interrupted by the sheer beauty of the chuppah. Its four corners, rich in symbolism, beckoned him. Adorned with a delicate blend of white roses and wisps of baby’s breath, its pillars looked like they'd been kissed by the morning dew. The canopy, draped with the same florals, hung above them like a promise of many blossoming tomorrows.

  The air was sweet, but it clashed with the copious amounts of perfume the women from both parties had donned. This combination rendered the atmosphere thick and cloying. He cleared his throat, suppressing the urge to adjust his kippah.

  Ruth was radiant, her joy evident. It was reassuring to see her revel in the moment—a bride should relish her wedding day. However, as she circled Asher, the ritual felt somewhat vertiginous. Three times she gracefully moved around him—three circles meant to ward off evil spirits and symbolize their united family sphere.

  When she finally halted before him, Asher felt a momentary disorientation. A hard blink was necessary to refocus. What was afflicting him? Earlier, the day's emotions had been relatively simple, primarily comprised of jitters about his vows—mostly because if he faltered, Ahmed would certainly not forget.

  Yet now, a sensation akin to the aftermath of a severe hangover gripped him. His mind felt clouded, as if encased in molten wax. A thirst nagged at him, paired with gnawing hunger. Was the synagogue unusually warm, or was it just him feeling the heat? Given that no one else seemed affected, he concluded it was just him.

  The rabbi, sensing the pause, cleared his throat. Commencing the sheva b’rachot over a glass of wine, he intoned, “Blessed are you, L-rd our G-d, King of the universe, who creates the fruit of the vine.”

  A constriction in Asher's throat persisted. Attempting to clear it only earned a displeased glance from Ahmed. Sweat began its descent down his nape, darkening his shirt's collar. His palms, slick with perspiration, tempted him to discreetly wipe them on his trousers.

  Ahmed's scrutiny was relentless. Those deep, assessing eyes seemed to pass a judgment that Asher could never measure up.

  Regardless, Asher wasn't striving for Ahmed's approval. His heart belonged to Ruth, not her father.

  “Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, King of the universe, who has created all things for His glory,” the rabbi's voice resonated, unwavering and echoing serenely around the room. Asher found little solace in it. “Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, King of the universe, Creator of man.”

  That persistent tightness in his throat gnawed at him. An instinctive hand reached up to soothe it, but the motion was met with yet another disapproving stare. Resigned, he let his hands fall to his sides.

  The more the rabbi spoke, the more Asher felt as though something was clawing at the inside of his skull. His ears popped, and he sensed an inexplicable humming; what song was that? Who was humming?

  He glanced to the side, but saw no one in the rows of seats who might have been making the sound. Tovah was gazing at him, her expression full of warmth. She appeared much happier after their excursion to the bathroom. That was good.

  Asher took comfort in Tovah's trust. It was crucial that she trust him. Everything would be alright as long as Ahmed was the only family member who disapproved of him.

  Ruth shot him a look, a blend of curiosity and concern. She mouthed, "Are you okay?"

  Asher tried to respond with a tight, reassuring smile. The honest answer to her question was simple: no, he wasn't.

  Yet he couldn't pinpoint the issue or determine how to address it. The atmosphere had assumed an eerie quality, as if shadowy tendrils were weaving through it.

  A wave of nausea swept over him. It felt as though bile was rising within, accompanied by a profound sense of unease. Was he getting cold feet? No, certainly not. Asher knew he was a decent man and would be a devoted husband. He had made mistakes in the past, like everyone, but he was committed to caring for Ruth and ensuring her every need was met.

  Perhaps it was just a sudden, intense bout of anxiety?

  "Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, King of the universe, who created man in His image, in the likeness of His form, and prepared an everlasting foundation for him. Blessed are You, L-rd, Creator of man," the rabbi went on, reciting the seven blessings. "May the barren one [Jerusalem] rejoice and be overjoyed as her children are gathered to her in happiness. Blessed are You, L-rd, who delights Zion with her children."

  Which blessing number was that?

  Asher had lost track.

  He struggled to concentrate on the words. It felt as though his mind was dissolving—like water running off an ice cube, like condensation sliding down a glass, or wax dripping from a candle. Sweat formed on his brow.

  And on his skin.

  What was he just thinking about? His throat and lungs felt constricted. It was as though the fog in his mind had seeped into his lungs, which now felt as if they were filling with water. He craved a cigarette. Why had he given away his lighter?

  If he had kept it, he could have had a smoke once the ceremony was over, before the party began. He desperately wanted another one. A cigarette might help. Could he retrieve the lighter from Tovah? She might allow him to use it, even if she wanted to keep the gift itself.

  He scanned the crowd of guests, searching for Tovah. She wasn't looking at him. Instead, her attention was fixed on something beyond the wedding party, in the far corner of the room, behind Asher. He couldn't turn to see without potentially incurring Ahmed’s ire.

  Keeping his gaze fixed on his bride, Asher tried to will the unsettling feeling away.

  The rabbi continued, "Grant abundant joy to these loving friends, as You bestowed gladness upon Your created being in the Garden of Eden of old. Blessed are You, L-rd, who gladdens the groom and bride."

  The sensation persisted. He felt as if something was staring at him. There was a feeling of something squirming inside his lungs and beneath his skin, as if it was gnawing at his bones and marrow, trying to hollow them out.

  There was a pause, and a warm, kind smile appeared on the older man's face. This indicated the conclusion, right?

  Then would come the ring, the vows, and—

  "Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, King of the universe, who created joy and happiness, groom and bride, gladness, jubilation, cheer and delight, love, friendship, harmony, and fellowship," intoned the rabbi.

  Asher had been mistaken. That wasn't the last prayer. But this surely was. He could tell because the guests began to tear up, and Ruth seemed to vibrate with excitement—a growing elation that lifted her spirits.

  He too felt a growth in his chest, but it wasn't one of elation. It was a heaviness, pressing on the exterior of his lungs—a weight, a dampness, and something foreign.

  Something that wasn't naturally a part of him.

  "L-rd our G-d, let there soon be heard in the cities of Judah and in the streets, the sound of joy and happiness, the voice of the groom and the voice of the bride, the jubilant voices of grooms from their canopies, and youths from their songs of joy. Blessed are You, L-rd, who gladdens the groom with the bride," the rabbi concluded, bowing his head.

  Finally, the concluding prayer. Relief washed over Asher. He tried to exhale but found he couldn't. Something obstructed it. He struggled to breathe in, but the same blockage made it challenging.

  The sound of hard candies hitting the floor echoed in the room. Asher's attention was drawn to the noise; fortunately, Ruth looked as well, ensuring Ahmed couldn't rebuke him this time.

  “The ring,” the rabbi gestured.