A Match Made In Jannah

Chapter 22

HUSNA'S POV

"Well, that was fast," my father said, blushing.

I was aware of how awkward this conversation was, because our family had always been very conservative.

"I also want to meet my future son-in-law, okay? We should organise something because it wasn't like Husna left us with much time to talk to him, what with their long conversations," my mother said, then turned to me and winked.

Winked!
My mother WINKED at me!

I was beyond horrified. Up until now, my mother had been the type that thought that even liking a boy was wrong, which made it very awkward when someone spoke about Zaid. The guilt from my 'relationship' with Luke ate at my conscience every day since we stopped talking, and I had been dying to tell my mother. Yet, just before I told her, Allah saved me (I know this doesn't correct but it truly was for the best) by making an incident occur that showed me that she thought I was still too young to understand what like, let alone love, was. It hurt me to say it, but my mother and I had a communication barrier that was hard to tear down, mostly because she refused to look at my age and consider my experiences. The time when I was infatuated with Luke was perhaps the worst, because I had no one at all to talk to. And when I did find someone, it was my Apa who knew indirectly and encouraged me to stop talking to him. It was a relief when I did, but despite it being MY choice, I was still heartbroken. I felt so unwanted, broken and emotionally drained, yet I had to put on a mask of confidence at home. Any sign of sadness resulted in me being scolded at for sulking and being moody. Little did they know that inside I was facing a battle that I could barely fight, let alone win.

Now, reflecting back on the experience, it really wasn't anything big. It didn't matter much, but at that time it did, and I wished that I had an older sister or understanding mother to help me through my heartbreak.

I was snapped out of my unnecessary tangent of thoughts when my father said he would phone Uncle Ahmed, and speak to him about my decision and whether Nabeel felt the same.

The rest of the day was nerve wracking. My father refused to phone the Vaids before lunch, because since it was a Sunday and Nabeel's father worked odd hours, he was sure that Uncle Ahmed would be at work and he didn't want to disturb him. Although I was desperate to know Nabeel's answer, I waited patiently because nagging my father would only demonstrate how immature I was, and that was not what I needed right before I became a bride-to-be.

Just the thought of being a bride left me with shivers. I'd never been one to dream of a fancy, princessy wedding, and hoped Nabeel felt the same. Still, being a bride, regardless of how breathtaking the hall was, or how simple your gown looked, was something every girl looked forward to. For most, this excitement also brought about fear and anxiety, because any mature woman understood that marriage was not an easy task, and was, in fact, a sacrifice.

I had never had one of these talks with my parents, and the only talk of marriage that ever arose before my samoosa run days was the occasional teasing from old aunties about who the groom would be. I recalled those days with amusement, and laughed at the realisation that Maariah would have to face that for the rest of her bachelorette days. Old women were honestly so nosy. It was a wonder that they hadn't found out about Luke and phoned my mother to ask if we were going to be engaged in the future. Oh well, us youth learn these tricks to keep the haraam police aka the Indian CNN away.

I immediately stopped my thoughts dead in their tracks. No! I may just be getting proposed in a matter of days and I was thinking of Luke, Zaid and my ex best friend. I needed to think of Nabeel. I wanted to know more about him, but if I kept dwelling over the past, I would never be able to do so. Instead I decided to text Maariah and ask her if we could talk.