Greyscale Angel

Hello?

A friend request? I had not even given my aunt an answer as yet. What did this say about him? Worse yet, what did it say about my family? Were they so absolutely sure that I would not go against their wishes? That I was but a slave to their demands? I should be angry, I should be really, really angry. But for the first time in a long time, I simply felt: hurt. How could I marry a man who uses the social cliché of Facebook to communicate with his potential spouse to be? The thought made me nauseous. I'm going to say no. I have to. The thought of sharing my life made me cringe, I couldn't go through with this. I dialed my aunt's number. I was greeted by a male voice, uncle Ameen.

"Malaa'ika! So good to hear from you dear." I smiled at the hint of sincerity I occasionally heard from him. "Uncle Ameen. How have you been?" ...
"Well... I've been meaning to call you dear. I understand that your aunt has spoken to you about the proposal. I know it's very sudden and please know that you are not pressured. Mr Malik was great friends with your father and I know he would have been happy. They are wonderful people dear. All I ask is that you meet him, the rest is up to you."

Oh Damn. Emotional blackmail in the worst way possible. Knowing that my parents would have supported this proposal, knocks the courage to reject it out of me completely. What would be the harm in meeting him... right?

I agreed to get to know Amaan a little, still confident that my views would not change. It's just that uncle Ameen reminded me quite a lot of my Dad when he spoke like that. Usually though, he didn't speak at all. You see, he married into a rich family, a family who practically adopted him, financially at least. I'm not saying he is entirely innocent but, he is easily persuaded.

I still refused to use Facebook though. It was far too impersonal and more than anything, I couldn't bring myself to click that button. If he wanted to meet me, he would have to find a better way.

It was Sunday afternoon and I had everything on my mind, everything but my first day at work tomorrow. That's what I should focus on, all else was secondary. I had earlier received an email from Mr Brody, who was disappointed at my lack of acceptance to his job offer ( to be honest, as was I). He did however, mention that it was understandable and that he would like to meet for lunch tomorrow and offer me a concluding plea ( whatever that meant.) I was more than willing to meet the talented man and over the moon that I would regain possession of my diary.

Sunday nights were my "watch a movie, eat popcorn, don't think about tomorrow" nights. It was just what the doctor ordered as I had every intention of doing just that tonight. I opted to watch a Bollywood film today, Band, Baaja, Baaraat. It was a fun loving, romantic comedy that always helped improve my mood. Plus, it was a movie starring my favorite actor, the gorgeous, crazy Ranveer Singh. Ranveer was an actor who was so completely comfortable in his own skin. He was who he was and he made no apologies for it. I was a little jealous of that. Sometimes I felt like he was my spirit animal, like if I wasn't the way I am, I would be a lot like him. Free, confident, insane... but I couldn't be that, it was too scary. Mid movie, I was interrupted by the hissing of a message tone. It was from my aunt. Don't roll your eyes Malaa'ika, do not roll your eyes.

The message read, "Dear, I have given Amaan your cell number since he was unsuccessful in contacting you otherwise. Expect a phone call."

I choked from the handful of popcorn I had just guzzled. This was not okay. This was abuse, invasion of privacy, a violation of my human rights! Okay maybe not, but it was still wrong!

I was I suppose to focus on the adorable things Ranveer was saying, while awaiting the call? I set my phone to silent, as I always did due to the Ligyrophobia . This time though, in hope that I would miss the call. Highly unlikely, as I kept looking at the screen as though my life depended upon it.

It had been about half an hour since my aunt's message. He probably wouldn't even call tonight. With a lump in my throat, I continued watching the movie. I tossed my phone across the room to the isolated sofa and tried my best not to think about it. Another hour later, the film was over and I was heading to bed. I grabbed my phone and noticed that I had one new missed call from an unsaved number. The missed call, I soon discovered, was only a minute old! Within a few seconds, another call was coming through, from the very same number. I waited the duration of 2 complete rings before answering.

"Assalamu'alaikum" I answered trying to conceal my squeak.

"Wa'alaikumsallam, " came a gentle, slightly uncertain male voice, "is this Malaa'ika?" I've never heard my name in that accent. It sounded so regal, so significant.

"Yes it is..."

"Uhm my name is Amaan Malik... I'm sure your parents have spoken to you about this... "

"My aunt and uncle, " I interrupted, " and yes they have, kind of."

"I'm sorry, that's what I meant."
He seemed alarmed.

"That's okay." I didn't need an explanation.

" I'm not exactly sure what we should be saying at this point. I know it's a strange situation... Would you like to meet?"

The most awkward silence filled the air. Oh Allah...

"I mean we don't have to, If you don't want to, " he finally said.

"No it's not that. It's just that I am starting at a new job tomorrow. I'm not sure when I would be able to commit. " Lame excuse.

"Oh I see... Maybe in the weekend then. I'll call you."

"Okay..."

"Good luck with the new job. It's always stressful, but I'm sure you'll do splendidly. "

"Thank you so much. Take care."

That was absolutely horrifying. My word, could it have gone any worse? Maybe.

It was 11pm and I was exhausted. Getting into bed, just as I was about to close my eyes, a startling realisation hit me: Amaan was the first and only person I had verbally told about my new job, and the only one to wish me good luck. That was strange: different strange, good strange.

Tomorrow was going to be a good day. Insha Allah (with God's will).

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