Once Upon A Lifetime

Chapter One ~ There's still an hour left, sheesh you have no patience

~Taalia's POV~

"Taalia, hurry up!" Misha cried. I rolled my eyes at my friend's impatience. I put in the last few pins for my hijab. I grabbed my purse and looked at myself in the mirror. I was wearing a long aqua blue dress with gold designs along the long sleeves and at the hem of the dress. I wore a matching gold silk hijab which I had put into a few layers. I wore a thin line of eyeliner, some mascara and a light coloured lipstick. I nodded in satisfaction and hurried downstairs.

"Ya Allah, Misha, we still have so much time left!" I cried, greeting her in the living room. Misha looked, MashaAllah, beautiful in her magenta long dress and black hijab with silver designs on it. She had done her makeup simply like mine and her black purse and heels brought the look together.

"Asalamu Alaikum, Taalia. We have to get there early if we want good seats!" Misha cried. I returned her salaam and rolled my eyes again.

"We have reserved seats." I said.

"You never know who could come and steal those seats!" She said. She grabbed my hand and pulled me to the front door.

"Salaam, Aunty, we're going!" Misha called out to my mom. My mom hustled towards us.

"You're leaving so soon? But there's still an hour left!" She cried.

"We have to get there as soon as possible." Misha said.

"Oh dear, okay then you have to stay for dinner tonight if you're not having lunch." My mom said sternly. Misha chuckled.

"InshaAllah, I will." She said. We put our shoes on, mine being thin gold heels to match my dress and Misha hurried out the door. I kissed my mom, said my salaam and rushed after her.

We got into her car and she pulled out of the driveway and soon we were on our way. We were going to a Muslim fashion show in Downtown. My mom had surprised us with the two tickets. Of course I gave the second ticket to Misha. Our seats were in the first row so we were right next to the models in the dresses. I was so excited. I had been a fan of fashion ever since I was little. I was an expert at picking out the right outfits for both men and women. I was in University, completing my third year in the study of fashion and business. I would be starting my fourth and final year In Sha Allah in the upcoming September. My dream was to open up my own fashion industry for Muslims. It was actually both mine and Misha's dream, as we were both taking the same classes and both had a love for fashion.

"Taalia, my mom brought it up again." Misha said.

"What?" I asked.

"Marriage! Ugh, I keep telling her that I'm still too young for marriage and I still have yet to finish school and start our fashion business. But Ma on the other hand has been trying to find a suitable boy for me AGAIN! Ya Allah, what do I do?" She cried.

"Just let your mom go with it then. She's only trying to make you happy. And it's not like she can force you to marry." I said. Misha nodded.

"True but her constant nagging is making me go insane! At least Baba understands!" She groaned.

"It's okay, let it go for now. I'll treat you to ice cream after the show if that make you feel better." I smiled.

"Thanks, habibti."

• ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ •

After the fashion show, I had treated Misha to ice cream as promised and afterwards, we headed to the mall to do a bit of shopping. We bought a few things until we decided to head back to my place to rest up.

After washing up, we went to my bedroom and just relaxed on the bed.

"I can't wait until next year! We get to participate in the fashion show for the seniors and show off our designs!" Misha squealed with excitement. I grinned, nodding my head in agreement.
Every year, for the seniors, fashion designers from all over would come to our university to attend the fashion show made by all the students taking the fashion classes. We could design and present as many dresses as we wanted as long as they were in approval to the professors.

"Oh!" Misha suddenly cried, sitting upright.

"What?" I asked.

"Did you see Aasim this week?" She asked.

"No, but I am going to see him this Saturday for the meeting at the Masjid." I worked at my local Masjid has an Islamic teacher and taught kids Islam. Everyone in our community volunteered for something at the Masjid and me, along with many other people, worked as teachers to teach the kids about our religion. I had been volunteering at the Masjid for as long as I could remember and now I had become a teacher there on the weekends. My partner for my weekend classes was a boy named Aasim Malik. He had been my partner for almost everything we had volunteered for at the Masjid. We were close friends but of course not too close. We had known each other since we were little and had started volunteering at around the same time.

"Ooh, do you have classes all day?" Misha asked, smirking.

"I start at five in the evening and end at nine, so no." I rolled my eyes, knowing where she was going.

"Mhmmmm!" She leaned in closer. "Are you looking forward to working with him?" I shrugged my shoulders.

"I don't know. Are you looking forward to your meeting with Saqib?" She backed away from me, her smirk disappearing. Jackpot.

"Uh, no, why would I be?" She asked.

"Why wouldn't you be?" This time I leaned in towards her. She looked at me then pushed me away.

"Shut up!" She cried, blushing. I giggled.
Saqib Khalid was Aasim's best friend who also volunteered but didn't work as a teacher. He was more involved with the events and Halaqahs like Misha.

"Gosh, you just tell your mom already about him so she'll stop bothering you about every other Muslim boy on this planet." I said.

"Tell my mom what?" She asked. I rolled my eyes again.

"Don't play dumb, Mishi. I know you like him."

"Like who?" She asked. I glared at her.

"Misha..." I threatened her. She threw her hands up in surrender.

"Okay, okay, I like him a teeny weeney bit, sue me!" She cried.
I squealed and threw my arms around her.

"I knew it! So why don't you say anything?" I asked.

"Ma is going threw flip if she finds out I like a boy. She'll immediately think that I have been doing haraam things which I swear I haven't!" She explained.

"I know you haven't. But think about it, this is perfect. Your mom wants you to marry and you have a boy in mind! I say, keep it halal and tell your mother."

"Hold up, I said I only like him a teeny weeney bit! Besides, the girl doesn't ask for the guy's hand, he asks her! And I don't even know if he even thinks of me in that way!" She said.

"Okay, think about it for a while and when you're absolutely confident with your feelings then go to your mom. Who knows, maybe he might have a little interest too!" I grinned.

"Really? You think? Wait, what am I thinking? Astaghfirullah, Taalia, look at what you're doing to me!" She said. I laughed. Just then, my mom called us down for dinner. Misha quickly wrapped her scarf around her head since my dad was home then we went to eat.

• ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ •

AN: Salaam, everyone! Thank you for choosing to spend your prscious time to read my story, it truly means a lot! I hope you liked this chapter even though it is just the beginning. Please please comment and tell me what you think and vote if you likey! ♡♡♡