Halal Lovin'

Chapter 2

(Conversation in Arabic)

Listen here haramis and haramiyas. Let me tell all y'all jinns who this Saif guy is.

Saif is the son of my Aunt ( mother's friend, not in any way related ) Fatima.

He isn't a harami but he just doesn't seem like the type of guy who wants to go to Mecca and throw pebbles at the shaytan (devil) every other Wednesday.

What about me? I may not be over the top religious, but I try my best. Need a man who'll ask me to get down on my knees and make dua ( something Muslims do to ask God for something ) with him.

" Do you still want to go ahead with this?" My mother asks, snapping me back to reality.

"Of course I do," I respond with a slight reassuring smile. The problem being, I didn't know who I was trying to reassure.

"Why?"

"I made a deal with God that I was going to agree to the next man who asked for my hand," I responded kind of embarrassed because I just admitted that I've been asking God to send a man my way.

"Your father is right about you being weird," she chuckled but quickly regained her composer.

It got quiet after she mentioned my father. He's a liked man to the outside world, but not towards the people that really know him. And by that, I mean his family. He's one of the munaafiqeen  (  Hypocrites ). The only time you see him praying is during the Friday Prayer, and that's only because he has to show up at the Mosque. I've always looked down on my mom for staying with him and still being able to share a bed with him. I've warned her about being with a fake and all, but she insists she's only doing it for the sake of her kids.

"I'll marry him because his family is nice and I knew him growing up, so in a way, I won't be marrying a stranger. Just someone who I haven't talked to in almost 7 years," I said talking to myself while my mother, on the other hand, assumed I was talking to her. 

"Okay. Look at it any way you want, but you know they're not rich like us right?"

"Of course I know. I'm friends with his sister," I remind her. "I don't mind. They have food in the fridge and that's all that matters."

"He can't keep you happy with food in the fridge and pocket change," I wanna believe she's talking to me, but it looks like she's talking to herself. Trying to back out of the conversation as if it's her marrying him.

"That's all I need to be happy. A full stomach. And at the end of the day, a piggybank  gets filled with pocket change."

"But-"

"Mom. Listen. I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I feel like I have to say this. Are you happy? Are my sisters happy? Are my married cousins happy? Is anyone that you know that's married to a rich guy happy? I don't think so. I asked God for a man that'll appreciate me and love me. A man that'll be there beside me every night and morning. A man that I can trust. A man that I won't have to stay up all night waiting for; knowing he's cheating. A MAN-"

I was cut off by a soft sob. It was my mother. She cried.

" Okay. I see your view. I understand. You're using the mind God gave you and I'm glad. I just wish me and your sisters did the same. Cared more about our happiness and future instead of our reputation," she said while looking at me. " I just hope your father feels the same."