LOVE WITHOUT DESTINY

part 40

Amal stood in front of the mirror, two dresses draped over her arms, her brows furrowed in deep "fashion crisis" mode. She turned toward Zain, who was sitting lazily on the edge of the bed, clearly enjoying watching her struggle.

"Zain," she said, tilting her head with mock seriousness, "what should I wear? Please help me."

He leaned back slightly, eyes glinting. "Hmm... I think today we should twin, sweetheart. What do you say?"

Her expression froze for a second, as if he'd just suggested something outrageous. "Twin? With you?"

"Of course with me," he said, already looking smug about the idea.

Amal placed the dresses down on the bed and, without another word, strode over to his wardrobe. She flung the doors open dramatically, scanning the contents with exaggerated horror. "This is the twinning you're talking about? Do you have anything other than black in here?"

Zain joined her, folding his arms like a man defending his empire. "Excuse me... I have plenty of variety."
He pointed confidently. "Look-this is black... jet black... charcoal black... midnight black... obsidian black..." He kept going until he'd named at least ten different shades, even making some up just to annoy her.

Amal turned to him slowly, lips pressed together in a flat line. "Laa... lekin they're all black, Zain."

He scratched the back of his neck, the corner of his mouth twitching. "...Yeah, okay, maybe they are."

She shook her head, muttering under her breath, "Hopeless."

But before she could walk away, he gently caught her wrist. "No problem," he said with that quiet confidence she'd learned meant trouble. "We'll fix this today. We'll shop for clothes that couples wear. Matching, coordinated, all those 'Instagram goals' types. And I'll buy whatever you like-no limits."

Her eyes softened despite herself, and she gave a small smile. "That sounds... nice."

"So," he said, glancing toward her side of the wardrobe, "what are you wearing right now?"

Amal gestured at the dresses. "Help me decide."

He scanned them for barely a second before pointing. "This one. Definitely."

"Alright," she said, picking it up. "Give me two minutes." She headed toward the changing room.

"I'll come too," Zain said in a mock-serious tone, taking a step forward.

She spun around, pretending to gasp. "No. Sorry."

He pouted. "Please?"

But before he could reach her, she shut the door in his face with perfect timing-leaving his hand suspended mid-air like he was about to knock. He stared at the door, then rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling under his breath. "One day, sweetheart... one day."

A few minutes later, Zain was already dressed and waiting. The moment Amal stepped out, his entire posture changed-he stood instantly, eyes sweeping over her like she was the only person in the world.
"MashaAllah," he said softly, the word carrying more weight than any compliment could.

Amal's lips curved into a shy smile, and a faint blush warmed her cheeks.

He stepped forward, extending his arm toward her in an old-fashioned gesture that somehow felt even more romantic because it was him. "Shall we?"

She slipped her hand into his, their fingers fitting together with ease.

And with that, they stepped out of the room-two people on the edge of a day that promised laughter, shopping bags too heavy to carry, too many selfies to count, and memories they'd replay for years.
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