Things are going to start moving pretty quickly from this chapter onwards so be prepared x
- AYMAN'S POV -
"Baba, I need to tell you something. Can you sit down, please?" I spoke softly as I sat on the single couch besides where he was standing, looking for his glasses I presume.
"Here, baba." I said, handing him his glasses that were on the dinner table.
"JazakAllahu khayr, habibi." He answered, putting his glasses on and taking the newspaper off the coffee table.
"I need to talk to you, baba." I repeated once I realised he probably hadn't even heard me the first time.
He looked at me through the top of his glasses, his head tilted downward as if asking if it could wait, but upon seeing nothing but seriousness in my features, he slowly raised a brow and sighed, setting down the newspaper on the table beside him and nodding for me to start speaking.
"I'm going to get straight into it." I exhaled, seeing him nod slightly as he placed his hands on either of his kneecaps and leaned back, watching my uncomfortable stance with a raised brow. "You know the boy at the masjid who became a Muslim recently?" I said to him, watching as a soft smile broke out onto his face. He nodded, saying Allahumma barik lahu.
"Yeah, ameen. He's..." I cleared my throat and began speaking in Arabic instead.
"Baba, he's interested in A'ishah." I spoke, and right as the words escaped my lips a loud crash was heard from the kitchen, not giving my dad any moment to be shocked as we both shot up and ran to the kitchen.
I let out a relieved sigh as I saw A'ishah standing in the middle of the tiled floor, unharmed, our glass water jug shattered in pieces across the floor.
"Are you okay?" My dad asked making her nod numbly, her gaze shifting to me, eyes wide. She had heard me.
She took my dad's extended hand and slowly stepped out of the kitchen, moving to the dining area, clear of any pieces of broken glass.
"Me?" She asked, looking up at me her thin eyebrows furrowed in the most adorable way.
She was only younger than me by five years, but her personality made her seem even younger. She was the most kind-hearted, quiet, sensitive and shy person ever and that just added to the protectiveness I felt over her. Many people in the past have tried taking advantage of her naivety, and with time, I developed that protective side of me.
It was for this reason I didn't want King to marry her. She was too pure, too nice. He was kind, yes. A good guy at heart. But he had a lifestyle much different to what she was used to. Granted he was done with that old lifestyle now, alhamdulillah, however he was still very loud, confident and out-spoken. She was quiet and reserved. I wasn't sure whether or not she would get used to him and vice versa.
"Yes, you." I said, watching her lips part as her cheeks tinted pink, shy of having this conversation with our dad and me.
An awkward silence surrounded us until my mum entered the room, gasping at her beloved glass jug completely ruined along the tiled floor of the kitchen.
"A'ishah!" My mum shouted, placing her hands on her hips as she glared at my sister.
My sister seemed to snap out of her reverie and gasped. "I am so sorry, mum. Wallah, I will buy you a new one tomorrow inshaaAllah." She said quickly, her eyes wide as she left the room to get the mop and bucket, when really she just needed a few moments to herself. I could read my sister like an open book, even in her most closed-off moments.
YOU ARE READING
Finding Islam
Teen Fiction-- Life works in mysterious ways. King Patterson never really thought about life in depth. He did not care much for his future. He did not plan. There was no use. He would be six feet under today, tomorrow or the day after that. He took each day as...
