Naina (Al-Ameen Family #4)

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I spent the afternoon with Sanam and her family. They had a dawaat at her husband's family's house and I tagged along. I left around 4 to get ready for dinner with Armaan, lying to Sanam that I was going back to London tonight.

Deciding what to wear was a mission like no other.

I'd never gone on a date before. And all I brought this weekend was my brown clothes for the reception and two other outfits; one I wore here, and one for the way back. I mixed and matched so that I had on a cute blouse and jeans, put on my heels from last night, and did my makeup a little nicer than usual. I even gave my hair some cute curls. I nervously fumbled between lipstick colours until it was 6:30 and I just couldn't waste any more time. I put on my favourite berry colour, giving me the comfort it always has if being just perfect on me, and quickly left.

The restaurant was 10 minutes away by car but I wanted to get there early and scope the place out. I had 15 minutes left before 7 so I walked around the outside of the restaurant. At 6:55 I went in and surprisingly, Armaan was already at the table. He must have been there more than half an hour ago because I did not see him walk in and I'd been here for 15 minutes.

"Hey," I smiled, reaching the table. He stood up, presumably to get my chair for me but I quickly pulled it out and sat down before he could.

"You're right on time," he chuckled, taking his seat too.

"I'm a stickler for time," I shrugged one shoulder casually.

"Hungry?" he asked, handing me a menu. I nodded, opening it up. The restaurant was fancy as hell, but I expected no less from a sport's star. The menu was primarily Italian, with some variations of whatever was popular in the food world right now.

"What're you getting?" I asked him, looking over my menu.

"I'm thinking pizza," he pointed to one, but I couldn't see. "Mushroom and spinach with mozzarella, garlic, parmesan,

We got to talking about yesterday's reception as we waited for the food to arrive. Armaan told me about his couple days off and his visit to his family. Apparently his younger sister lives nearby so he was staying with her and her husband. I asked him a couple questions about his family and he happily chatted away about his siblings and cousins.

It was time for dessert by the time he finished. Mashallah, may God give everyone a big, happy family.

We looked over the dessert menu but it was kind of fancier than needed so I suggested we hit up an ice cream shop somewhere. While I was looking for something nearby on my phone, Armaan paid the bill. He ignored my protests, taking the receipt from the waiter.

I found a Morelli's Gelato nearby and so we embarked on the walk.

"You never talk about your family," Armaan noted, as we waited at a stop light.

I was so busy paying attention to the crowd of tourists around us, I failed to stop myself from saying, "because I don't have one."

"What do you mean?" he turned to face me, hands in pockets. I sighed internally, putting my barriers down to talk. Sometimes you just wanted to let it all out to someone who didn't know anything and would never understand any of it.

I gave him the sugar-coated version. "I was born into a Hindu family-" Armaan's gasp interrupted me.

"Sorry, sorry, go on," he grimaced.

"My dad and Sanam's dad were both bureaucrats, that how I've known her since we were kids. I spent a lot of time with her family and growing up, I always took part in Ramadan, and Eid, and everything with her. I never really practiced my parents' faith growing up. When I was 15, I converted. My parents didn't know till I was 17 and then they disowned me. But I'd figured some stuff out and moved on, made a life for myself."