A Match Made In Jannah

Chapter 13

Husna's POV:
Tears streamed down my face as I repeated the phrase Maariah had just said to me over and over in my head.

"Zaid is getting married."

Mingled with the tingling sensation of sadness that I felt encapsulating every tear drop, was betrayal, hatred and anger. It took him barely even a month to move on, and worse still, he refused to even fight his father's verdict.

That was why, when my father approached me with a request from a "respectable family," I agreed to meet them.

That evening, my first cousin, Layyah, and I dressed up (we're Indians, so having a significant amount of family at a proposal is vital), in identical abayas, although I wore heels while she, pumps. Then, we scrambled through my mother's closet for jewellery, hijab pins and all the minute touch ups that a 'haari poiri' should have. I had just been watching Superwoman throwbacks, and was inspired by her Arranged Marriage short film, which featured a butter chicken lasagne. It was super simple to prepare and smelled scrumptious, so it took Maariah and I barely any time to cook before dressing up.

When we trailed downstairs, the whole family was already seated in the lounge. My granny was speaking to, presumably his granny, about their childhood when they would play together near the railway tracks. The two old ladies laughed in unison, fondly remembering all the mischief they would get up to.

His mother, whom I later came to know was Aunty Haseenah, was a soft spoken woman, who seemed to genuinely compliment everything I did or said. My mother, being loud and friendly, was quick to make her feel at home and soon Aunty Haseenah managed to open up. The two women began to relax and discuss their lives, children and of course, all the local gossip that no Indian woman can get enough of.

Soon it was time for me to meet my potential fiancée, and my granny handed me a plate of sweets to take into the room. All sorts of thoughts began running through my head, from whether my outfit was gorgeous enough, to how strange it was for an educated, supposedly modern girl in 2016 to have an arranged marriage.

As soon as I entered the room I was spellbound. My stomach, which had previously had been filled with butterflies, now contained the entire zoo. I was aware that he wasn't your typical hottie but he appealed to me. Maariah would argue that green eyes and blonde hair with a golden blonde beard would be much more appealing, but to me he was perfect. When I had walked into the room, the first thing that caught my eye was his dazzling smile. He had perfectly aligned teeth that glowed like pearls in the moonlight. His eyes were a light shade of hazel, yet dark enough to highlight the excited glint in his pupils. Although he was wearing a topee, his hair which was a dark chocolate brown with gold brown streaks, formed a floppy fringe over his enthralling eyes. I paused for a moment and took in his outfit. He was wearing a crisp white thobe with denim lined pockets and a white washed denim blazer over it. He wore Timberland tan sneaker boots which was an unusual choice for a boy to wear with a thobe. The whole outfit, especially the blazer has a casual touch to it that screamed street style fashion blogger. I was ecstatic, because his outer appearance was a 10 out of 10. I wondered whether his personality and Taqwa would match that. There was only one way to find out.

He sat patiently while I took in the mesmerizing sight that he was, and then he patted the seat next to him, beckoning me to sit down. My insides somersaulted as I hesitantly took a seat.