•AN OBLIVIOUS ONE•

ISLAM🤍

My dad just informed me that my soon-to-be groom is on his way. Of course, it has to be today when I’m feeling under the weather. I look absolutely terrible when I’m sick, and the thought of meeting him like this is stressing me out.

Why does it have to be today of all days?

“Ya Zara, what are you going to wear? Should I bring out your favorite jalabiya?” my younger sister Aasma asks, sitting beside me with a concerned look.

Is she serious? Does she really think that dressing up for him will make a difference? It’s not like he won’t see me at my worst when we’re married. To be honest, I’m not sure how much more of this I can handle.

I appreciate her effort, but it feels pointless to put so much emphasis on my appearance right now. What’s the point in dressing up when I’m not feeling my best? It seems like an unnecessary effort when, in reality, the way I look today is probably the least of his concerns.

I just want this day to be over so I can go back to feeling normal again. For now, I can’t muster the energy to care about the little things. I’d rather focus on getting through this visit and dealing with whatever comes next.

“You think I’m going to get dressed up for him?” I ask with a chuckle.

“No, no, no. Don’t tell me you’re planning to meet him dressed like this!” she exclaims, staring at me in disbelief. I just shrug in response.

“Here, just take this,” she says, handing me a peach abayah. “Go change.”

She’s looking at me with that authoritative gaze, and we engage in a stare-down for about ten seconds before I finally relent. She always gets her way, no matter how weird it seems.

I put on the abayah and come out, only to find that she’s already set up her makeup station in front of the mirror.

“Next is the makeup,” Aasma says, pulling out a chair for me to sit.

“I’m not doing any makeup. You might have convinced me to dress up, but you’re definitely not going to make me paint my face for someone,” I say firmly.

“But ya—” she starts to protest when we hear the sound of a car horn.

“He’s here!” Mamie squeals, rushing into the room with excitement.

I don’t even understand why she’s so thrilled.

“Mamie, go and bring him in. I’ll be right behind you,” I say, cutting off any further discussion.

I quickly spritz on my favorite oud and take a moment to calm myself before heading out to meet my future husband.

Let’s see who this Fareed is!