Niqabi in Love

Five

It's been a while since I updated this story. Sorry for the long wait. I've never tried to write something so long before. I kind of gave up on this story, but then I kept having all of these ideas for things that could happen. So here I am pushing through. I will finish writing this story. Inshallah.

Khadija POV

I had left early for the masjid, just in case, the bus was as slow as it had been a few days earlier. But it had made good time and I arrived at the masjid with plenty of time to spare. I was just walking up to the building, platter of freshly baked bread in hand. Then suddenly I was bumped from behind and the platter went flying onto the sidewalk. 

I whirled around to see who had bumped me and came face to face with the same man from before. The one who had knocked me down just a few days before. The surprise must have shown in my eyes, for he looked at me with a questioning look on his face. 

"It's you," I said. "You're the guy who ran into me on Monday."

Suddenly his face changed to recognization, and then to apology tinged with embarrassment.

"I am so sorry about that," he said. "And about just now. Your food..." he looked down at where the bread had fallen. 

"It's okay," I said squatting down. He knelt on the ground beside me.

"See," I said. "The towel I wrapped around it saved them from touching the ground."

"Thank God," he said. Relief showed on his face. "It would have been a true travesty if I had ruined."

"I love middle eastern food," he explained. "One of my best friends actually invited me here tonight. I'm going to admit that I mostly came for the food."

I laughed at that. I couldn't help it. It was the truth. 

I was raised on American food like any other typical white girl, but as soon as I had converted to Islam and started eating middle eastern food regularly at my friends' houses I had learned to cook it for myself. 

"That is a good reason," I said, laughter still in my voice. 

"Seriously," he said. "American food tastes like dog food after you eat food from literally any other place." 

"I completely agree," I said.

He seemed to remember the food at the same moment I did. We reached for the bundle of bread at the same time, but his long arms beat me to it. He scooped the towel-wrapped bread onto the platter and held it out to me. 

I stood, dusting any dirt from the sidewalk off of my long skirt, and took the platter from him. 

He stood awkwardly, keeping all of his weight on one leg. It was then that I saw the brace wrapped around his knee. 

"Oh my goodness, are you okay?" I said gesturing toward his knee. He glanced down at his knee and then back up to me. 

"Oh that," he said. "I just aggravated an old injury when I fell on Monday."

"Oh no! You hurt yourself when you ran into me?"

"No," he said, shrugging my concern off. "I tore my ACL a few years back. Every once in a while it flairs up for a few days. It will probably be better tomorrow."

"Okay," I said. "I believe you." I turned to go into the masjid.

"Wait," he said. "What's your name?"

"Khadija."