Him & His Muslimah

4

Zaib

"It's your Baba's turn today." Zaib's mother said as she stared at her husband with mischievous, upturned lips. Zaib stared at his father with a pitiful expression. Zain and Zayna, who were sat at the couch, laughed.

"Aw man! Ayesh, Now I'm just assuming you keep lying to me! I swear it was my turn like yesterday," Abdullah grumbled.

She laughed at his childish behavior. "Nope, it was my turn yesterday. Come on, make me some good breakfast, habibi!"

Zaib couldn't help it. He joined Zain and Zayna, laughing at their complaining father. Abdullah Khan rolled his hazel eyes at the very 'supportive' children of his and stomped off to the kitchen. With a smile on his face, Zaib stared at the lit television screen. His mother was re-watching all the episodes of the T.V show: Friends. It was nothing but misery.

"Dad, make the toast crispy with butter!"

"And the egg yolk half cooked!"

"Dad, please make me a French toast!"

"Habibi, make my tea sugar free!"

"Tea and crispy toast for me Baba!"

Ayesha and the sly children of hers giggled hysterically. Zaib chuckled, throwing a high-five his mother's way. The man of the house cooked in the kitchen and without a doubt: Abdullah Khan was a remarkable chef.

The family ate, laughing and throwing in puns altogether. Zaib smiled at his jovial family, muttering an Alhamdulillah under his breath. He prayed for his family to always be happy and healthy. The only person missing was that one woman who would complete his world and the half of his deen. He wanted a woman who'd laugh with him, and make him the happiest man alive just by being there, loving him unconditionally. Zaib felt a smile elevate his lips as he thought of a partner accompanying him in his journey to Jannah.

Zaib was finishing his French toast when suddenly his phone began to vibrate frenziedly in the pocket of his jeans. He clutched the phone, clamming it out, and his smile dropped as the caller ID read: Ehsan.

Zaib was supposed to meet him at his house and go with him for another proposal. With a regretful frown, Zaib answered the call.

"As' salamu alaykum-"

"Where are you Zaib!"

"Greetings to you too, Ehsan." The sarcasm was audible in his tone as he rolled his eyes.

"I don't care, dude. Get here as fast as you can. My palms are sweating, armpits and-"

"Ew, too much information bro! I'll be there. Just get rid of the sweat because there's nothing I can do bout it," Zaib advised, lurching out of the couch as he ended the call, receiving curious glances from his family. Zaib didn't explain much as he quickly shoved his monochrome converse on, then pulled on his grey hoodie.

"I'm leaving. Ehsan needs me. As' salamu alaykum." Zaib kissed his parent's forehead, then proceeded to kiss Zayna's.

"What bout you?" Zaib smirked slyly.

"You can get a punch."

"Nah, I'm good."

Zaib chuckled before sauntering out of the living room towards the exit of the house. Zaib's father retired after working for the army and now received monthly pensions as well as military discounts; however, Zaib was brutally independent. He always considered his father's pension and discounts to be his own hard work, and no one deserved a penny but his great father himself. Allah (s.w.t) blessed Zaib enough stability to build the house they shared memories in, pay the electricity and fuel bills and fulfill all his family's needs, Alhamdulillah.