A Match Made In Jannah

Chapter 60

ZAID'S POV

The doorbell rang, and once again I sprinted towards the door to welcome my in laws. A flicker of a smile spread across my mother's face as she attempted to conceal her happiness at me being so overjoyed. I took a quick detour and kissed her on the forehead before proceeding to fling open the door.

"Assalamualaikum Uncle Sulaimaan and Aunty Mariam. How are you? Come inside, come inside," I said enthusiastically.

Then more shyly, I blurted out a Salaam to Hafsa, who averted her gaze. I waited to see the pink hue of a blush spread across her cheeks, but was disappointed to see none. Instead, she looked up at me, a tired expression in her eyes.

I ushered the family into the lounge and then rushed off to bring them tea, cakes and other delicacies. My mother walked in behind me, another tray in her hand and my father followed suit.

Uncle Sulaimaan gave me a small smile and cleared his throat.

"I don't think there's any use wasting time with unnecessary chit chat. I think we should get straight to the point."

I glanced at my mother with a worried to expression. Everyone seemed so grim, and the atmosphere was tense. She shook her head and gave me a forced smile.

"So Zaid, what do you plan on doing with your life, career wise?"

I smiled. If this was what the visit was about, I could answer easily.

"I plan to study electrical engineering, but aalim will always be my first choice for work."

"Well you see, Zaid," her father said. "Our family has a prestigious name in medicine and we treat our women very well. You studying further will require lots of money, and, no offense intended, but who will pay for your studies and who will pay for the maintenance of my daughter?"

I swallowed. "My current income will go towards Hafsa and my parents will pay for my studies, Insha Allah."

"Unfortunately, I don't think your income right now will, realistically, pay for my daughter's needs. She's still studying medicine and I plan on putting that expense, even if it's just partially, on her husband. Can you pay for that?"

"N...no," I stammered. "I didn't think that would be my expense at the moment."

"Okay, nevermind that. Can we increase the mahr? Look, $2 000 is much less than the average mahr of the area. How about $4 000?"

"I'm sorry, I can't afford anything more. This is the best that I can do."

Her father looked at her wearily. "Look, after much thought and the advice of my brother, we feel as if you're not going to be able to keep up to my daughter's lifestyle. We've given her everything that she's ever wanted since she was a child. We don't want to deprive her of anything in the future. So, either find a way to make the finances work, fast, or we will have to break off the marriage."

"I'm sorry Uncle Sulaimaan. I can't do anything about my income. All marriages start off juggling expenses, and I didn't think Hafsa would mind that. It's a team effort," I said.

"Well, I mind. The husband is the breadwinner. Regardless of how high her income is, you're meant to support her. Do you want to think about it or give your final decision now?" he asked.

"I would gladly marry Hafsa, but I can't change my financial situation. There isn't a way out."

"So I'm taking that as you're breaking off the proposal?"

"If that's what it means," I said, my mouth feeling like sandpaper.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Uncle Sulaimaan, Aunty Mariam and Hafsa got up, made Salaam and asked to leave.

My mother led them out of the door without a word.

When their footsteps had faded, she looked at me and was about to speak, but I shook my head vigorously and rushed up the stairs.

"Men don't cry, men don't cry, men don't cry," I repeated to myself.

Yet even with this mantra being repeated over and over in my head, I couldn't stop a single tear from rolling down my cheeks.

This was not the first time that I my happily ever after seemed like a happily never after.

I plugged my earphones into my ears and listened to Surah Duha on repeat. The Quran was my only comfort.