A Match Made In Jannah

Chapter 63

ZAID'S POV

The class that I had been conducting ended and I told them to revise the next chapter for the next day. Just then, my best friend Maulana Ahmed came into the room and sat down.

"Hey man, I think it's time that you get married. You're 27 bro," he said.

"Wa Alaykumus Salaam to you too. You're an aalim bro. Act like one," I laughed.

"So, we were discussing marriage."

"No, you were discussing marriage," I smiled.

"Man, it's just so... Nice. I really think you should."

"You're newly married. Relax, when Allah brings the right person along, I'll get married," I said.

"Okay bro, but start looking. Anyway, one of my friends wanted some advice. Take his number and message him tonight," Ahmed said. He made Salaam and walked away, leaving me to my thoughts.

I saved the number into my phone and sent a simple "Assalamualaikum." Almost instantly, I received a reply.

"Wslm. Who is this?"

"Zaid. Ahmed gave me your number."

"My cousin?"

"Well, he said you were friends, but the one from the Darul Uloom."

"That's awkward"

"Why. Your name?"

"Urm, Husna Yusuf."

"Sorry wrong number."

"Okay, assalamualaikum"

"Wa Alaykumus Salaam"

HUSNA'S POV

What?!

Had I just spoken to Zaid? My hands shook as I put my phone down. I picked it up again and read through the messages again. I didn't want to delete them. They were precious to me, even if it was an accident.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard and then I typed, "Since we're already here, can I ask your opinion on a female's voice being pardah? I don't see any basis for it in Shariah. I may be wrong, but I haven't been able to get an answer elsewhere."

I pressed send, and then cringed at the word "elsewhere." Why had I made it so formal?

ZAID'S POV

I sighed when I received that message. We weren't supposed to speak. This wasn't what was meant to happen.

Yet, as I read the message, I imagined her saying it to me in that same voice mixed with sweetness and sarcasm.

I fought with myself on whether to reply or not, and in the end I caved into my heart and sent her a lengthy explanation.

She replied with an even more intriguing question.

I answered.

She asked.

I answered.

She asked.

When the Adhaan for Maghrib sounded, I became aware of how long we had been speaking. I uttered a string of Istighfar, but continued to smile as I made Wudhu. I couldn't stop thinking about her.

At the Masjid, I met Uncle Husain, Husna's father. After some polite chit-chat, I asked him if I could come to see Husna again.

"Another samoosa run?" he asked, clearly taken aback.

"Jee, I think I'm older and much more mature now, so I'd like to give it another try," I said.

"Okay, how about this Saturday? 4 days is enough?" he asked.

"Jee, I'll tell my parents, jee. As long as Husna is ready," I said.

That night, I spoke to my parents about the proposal, and was surprised to see them retort in subdued anger. They seemed frustrated that I had made that decision without them, and felt that their reputation would be put at stake because we had rejected her the first time.

"Look, Ummi, Abba, I respect your decisions but right now I want to get married, and I really like Husna. What's wrong with her?" I asked.

"She's too young," they responded simultaneously.

"Well, Taqwa is valued way more than age. Maturity comes with Taqwa, not with age. I want to go and see her, so please don't make me choose."

They grudgingly agreed, but we were decided that I would go alone. I texted Uncle Husain and informed him that I would be there, but alone.

Saturday morning arrived and I dressed up in my best kurta and turban, and headed to the Yusuf's home. My mother planted a kiss on my cheek and wished me the best, and my father cracked a joke as a way to loosen up my nerves.

"Breathe Zaid, breathe," I told myself.

As I stepped into the house, I knew that this was not just a coincidence. It was my destiny.