A Match Made In Jannah

Chapter 24

HUSNA'S POV

Maariah yelped and looked at me in utter dismay. Why was she being like this, I wondered. It wasn't as if Nabeel hadn't told me about his past, and the only thing this changed was that I didn't know the person he had once loved and betrayed was so close to me.

Maariah: Why? Why? Why?

Me: Because Maariah, I knew about his past, I knew about his present and I know what he plans for his future. He is good looking, charming and well-dressed, not to forget that he has Taqwa and yes, seems like the kind of person I would want as a husband and a father to my children. He may not be perfect, but he is perfect for me, and to me.

Maariah: So you'd do this? Marry my ex?

Me: Maariah, can we leave the past behind? Please? I didn't intend to do this but it really doesn't make a difference because he's your past. And the past doesn't matter at all.

Maariah: Well yeah, it's an unwritten rule of girl code to never date your friend's ex. You're going to break that?

Me: There is no such rule. And it's not like he is trash or anything. He made a mistake and now we all have to move on. He deserves a second chance. Nabi (saw) married his adopted son's divorced wife, and I don't think Nabeel deserves to be blown off just for something both of you did that was wrong.

Maariah: I can't believe you...

Me: Why? There's no reason for you not to want us to get married. I know his past. You know it. We've acknowledged it and moved past it. There's nothing holding us back now.

Maariah's quiet, deer like demeanor suddenly changed and she exploded in a volatile fit of rage.

Maariah: (angrily) You really don't get it, do you? I still love him. I love him more than you ever can! That day when he told me he loved me, he also promised me a future. He promised me that we would get married and have kids and be couple goals. I LOVED him. And unlike you and your stupid drama of a love life, or so you claim, with Zaid, I had something real! You're willing to snatch away every single bit of my happiness for what? For your own? I knew that one day Nabeel would come back to me, like he tried to so often, but this time be loyal. Except now my best friend, as she tries so hard to be, is a backstabbing, boyfriend-stealing ***** and wants to ruin my future. Just get out! I don't even care what you do. I love him. He loves me. You're just a second choice! Bye 'bestie'.

She slammed the door in my face and left me shell shocked, unable to comprehend what just happened. She had just pushed me out of her room, expressed her undying love for my soon-to-be husband,  and told me that I was a vibrant array of violent vocabulary.

I picked up my phone and checked the time. Instantly I was greeted by 10 missed calls, 14 Whatsapp messages, and even a few Instagram DMs from Layyah.

I scrolled through the messages, and groaned inwardly at the contents. Nabeel and his family were coming over for supper, and I was to get ready for the "proposal." This meant presents had to be bought, outfits worn, and lots of food to be prepared. Layyah's DM read that I should come over immediately, and she would do my make up and give me an outfit.

I messaged my mother telling her I would be at Layyah's getting ready, and then realised that I had to prepare the food with my mother. Tired of the typing, I called Layyah and told her that I had to work, and could she please come home to dress me up. Instantly she replied saying that she would be there asap to help prepare the meal and make me her fashion model. I trusted her to be there as soon as was possible, because she was a control freak.

Most of all, I needed some urgent therapy from her to recover from what had just occurred.

When I arrived home, I was greeted by my mother's frantic cries about the time and how much food had to be prepared. Like every Indian mother, the pies and samoosas were already in the freezer, and all I had to do was slide the tray of pies in the oven and put the samoosas in the oil. There was nothing more than that to it.

The real issue, however, arose with the food. My mother was a finicky host, and aimed to prepare only the best for her daughter's future in laws. The menu for the night was garlic bread, saucy chicken, a vegetable platter, chops, chips and chocolate mousse for dessert.

I ran around the house like a headless chicken, and even then we were behind for time. While I attended to the chicken, my mother kept her eyes on the chops, and once the chicken was prepared, I began working on the chocolate mousse.

Just then Layyah burst through the door, and screamed excitedly, "So I have the PERFECT outfit for you. Shoes, handbag, earrings, you name it doll!"

My mother replied with a brisk nod and told her to go upstairs as I would only be coming once the food was done. Instead, with a quick flourish of her hand, Layyah slipped on an apron, and began to take charge of the vegetable platter that was in the process of being made. It surprised me how a fashionista and incredibly Barbie-like girl could work so fast, because within minutes she had moved on to the chocolate mousse. My mother, also clearly astounded by her skill, shooed us from the kitchen because all the major work had been completed, and she would do the clearing up while we dressed up.

Upstairs, Layyah heaved the trunk on clothes onto my bed and I stared dumbfounded at the amount of clothes she had lugged over to my house. She told me to stand still, and I became a mannequin used to display only the best items in the store that was Layyah's closet. She commented on each outfit with phrases like, "This colour SO compliments your eyes," or "Nah, too old-fashioned," or "Makes you look frumpy," amidst the oohs and aahs that seemed to be the basis of her communication.

Finally she settled on a beautiful, flowing purple gown, a Zuhair Murad creation, paired with expensive silver jewellery. The fancy clutch she chose was a silvery cream with a unique design and silver linings. The entire combination was a heavenly sight that only the most dedicated fashionista would be able to find and execute. Once she had dressed me, completed my gorgeous but nude make up look, and made sure I had the perfect smile for the occasion, she flopped down on my bed ready to rant about how amazing it must feel to get married.

I gaze off into the distance, unable to concentrate on what Layyah was saying, until she stopped finally and said to me, "Husna! You're supposed to be excited, not depressed. What happened?"

I pulled myself out of my trance and responded with "nothing," although my stutter was clearly evident.

Layyah: Stop it Husna! Tell me exactly what happened!

Me: (starts blubbering like a baby) It's just. Me. Nabeel. Maariah. I...

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Author's Note:
So I just wanted to apologise to everyone for the delay. I've been really busy and will be for the next week or so. I hope you enjoy this chapter.