Finding Islam

25: Mum - Gender Roles in a Marriage

- KING'S POV -

"Anyway, long story short." Ahmad spoke, ending the story he was explaining. "I basically thought the address was 212, but it was 121 so I walked into some fish and chips shop saying their delivery for pizza was there. Then I get fired because the people actually said 'oh yeah, sorry that is ours' once I said it was paid for already."

Walter and I laughed loudly, the food in my mouth begging to fly out as I wiped the tears in my eyes, howling with laughter.

"Imagine that, actually taking someone else's delivery knowing you didn't order it." He muttered, sipping his drink through the straw and leaning back in the chair.

"Not gonna lie," Walter spoke. "It's something I would have done ten times over before I became a Muslim."

I chuckled, nodding my head in agreement. "It's something I have done ten times over before I was Muslim." I countered making them both laugh as I shook my head and mumbled astaghfirullah beneath my breath.

A chair scraped outwards against the concrete on another table and I glanced up, the sound reminding me of when I had my first meeting with A'ishah.

It had been just over a month since then and we had met up three more times with her after my dinner with Ayman and their father. So all up, it was 5 meetings. Everything was going so well. Better than I could have ever imagined. My nerves are no longer there when meeting her. I was pretty confident and she was beginning to get more comfortable with me too which I adored. Not too comfortable of course, but comfortable enough to not stutter much.

We were no longer just 'potentials', but now 'exclusive potentials'.

Meaning neither of us were allowed to talk or accept offers from any other person who was interested in marriage. A smile took over my face as I recalled the time we had spoken about it at our last meeting.

-Flashback-

"Not you too." I groaned, throwing my head back against the cushioned booth.

"What do you mean?" She asked me, her eyes wide as she laughed slightly at my reaction, clearly not knowing what was so bad about the question she had just asked.

"Your dad asked me that same question at dinner." I mumbled, making her eyes crinkle under her niqab.

"That makes it easier then." She argued. "What was your answer?"

I hadn't answered her dad, and I won't answer her either. I was in no mindset to tell her how many kids I wanted.

"Allahu alam." I answered smugly, making her roll her eyes and put another piece of char grilled beef in her mouth from beneath her niqab.

I watched her chew silently, her eyes watching Ayman who was seated on the table beside us. He was close today. He could hear our conversation and when he wasn't engrossed in his phone, he sometimes made comments and added to our conversations. At one stage, calling A'ishah a liar when she said that she couldn't cook well besides her famous biryani.

I smiled, looking down and averting my gaze from watching her for too long. This was our fifth meeting.

The first two were fairly awkward. After meeting her dad, we met once more at their house, this time for lunch while A'ishah and her mum was present. Her mum didn't speak much. Neither did A'ishah really. Our forth meeting, last week, was the best of all. We had tackled all the 'do or die' questions and taken all serious issues out of the way so that day we got to know each other on a more general level. Asking about each other's likes, dislikes, hobbies, favourite so and so's.