The Love I Was Looking For (Halal love story)

||Chapter 8: Vacation||

Currently, it's April 10th, the first day of spring break. I stretch my arms and legs as I yawn. Finally, a week to relax with no homework, classwork, tests, or quizzes. I get out of bed and check my phone. There are 20 messages from Sajid. Of course, he really can't live without me. I open them: "GOOD MORNING MERI JAAANNN," "WAKE UP," "I MISS YOU," and so on.

He's been spamming me since 7 a.m. Does this boy never sleep after Fajr? I smile and text him back, "Good morning, meri jaan. Someone's been up early." I put my phone down on my table and walk to the bathroom to do my morning routine.

I check back to see if he answered, and he did: "Yeah, I couldn't sleep, and I missed you, so if I can't sleep, neither should you :)."

I stare at that message for a whole minute. Is this boy for real?

I text back, "You have the weirdest sleep schedule; that's the only reason you can't sleep, smh. I need my beauty sleep."

I go to my closet and pick out a nice casual outfit in case we go out today. After I change, I check my phone again. He replies with, "I'm sorry, your highness. Now get your butt out of bed." I sigh and text back, "I've been out of my bed, thank you very much. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be taking my leave to eat."

I put my phone in my pocket and head downstairs. I sniff the smell of pancakes coming from the stairway. "Assalamu Alaikum," I say as I walk to the kitchen. My mom walks out of the pantry, "Walakum Salam, Aisha, naashta tayar hai" (breakfast is ready).

"Ooo, pancakes," I look around for some chocolate chips; pancakes aren't pancakes without chocolate. I later find some and sit at the table. My mom brings the pancakes, and I add butter, syrup, and whipped cream. Then I dig in.

The pancakes are so good; I enjoy them a lot. I stand up, put my dishes in the sink, and head to the living room. Apparently, Isa, my younger brother, is already awake. He's playing with his race track.

I sit down on the couch and pull out my phone to see if Humza texted. Yep, three messages from him. I open my phone, and he has said, "Are you done yet," "you eat so slow," and "HURRY UP."

I really don't know what to say sometimes. He really acts like a full-grown child. It's funny, though.

I reply back, "I'm done, jeez." I roll my eyes; he's such a silly boy. I look around for my sketchbook. I know I left it somewhere here last night. I get up and go to the other table and look around there. I finally find it under a few papers. I go back and sit down and look at my previous sketch.

My phone buzzes, and I pick it up; once again, it's him. "Do you want to play Roblox with me? I'm bored," he said.

Honestly, I do want to play with him, so I text back, "Fine, but I choose the game." I get on my PC and log in. Playing with Sajid is really fun; sure, he brags and shows off his wealth, but he's good at almost every game. But not in Arsenal, which is what we're going to play.

I join an Arsenal server and pick a team; technically, Arsenal is a shooting game, and you get put in teams of color, and there are different maps. I'm pretty good at it, but Sajid not so much. He says it's a rip-off and that Valorant is better.

He begs me to get Valorant, but knowing I have strict parents, all I'm allowed to play is Roblox and Minecraft. A few minutes later, he joins the game. I am on the red team, and he chooses blue. This will be fun; I'll beat him easily.

The map is Matrix, and automatics are the choice. Piece of cake, for real. Just starting off the game, my kill streak is already 5. Am I going to go easy on Sajid because I love him? Nah, I'm honestly a competitive person, no matter who I'm up against. Minutes pass, and I eventually make it to 1st place.

Leaving him at 4th place; do I feel bad? Nope, it's just tough love. Later, he spams me, being mad I kept killing him. I laugh and smile; he's such a baby for real.

My dad comes in the room. "Assalamu Alaikum baba," I say. "Wa Alaikum Assalam, why are you on the computer so early? Go do something else," he looks at me angrily. I sigh and leave the game.

I pick up my sketchbook and head to my room. I text Sajid that I need to go and that I'll play later. He texted back saying, "Why is sasur jaan (father-in-law) being mean? :("

I laugh so hard, then I get another text saying, "Let me talk to him; I'll ask him for your hand in marriage."

That really made me laugh. I text back saying, "He'd kill both me and you." And he would, no lie. Imagine if Sajid just went up to him and asked him for my hand at this age and time; I'd freak out. But soon, Inshallah, Sajid will ask my dad, and hopefully, he accepts.

Sajid is such an amazing person, Mashallah. He's a good practicing Muslim who's on his deen; he's intelligent, honest, respectful, responsible, funny, and he loves me for me. He can cook, and he's a complete mama's boy.

He's husband material, for real. He started spamming me as I sat here daydreaming about him. I texted him, "I'm sorry I was thinking about something."

I take out my sketchbook and flip to a new page. Let's see, what should I sketch out next? I sketch out a croquis first, thinking of what to draw. Well, I haven't drawn a gharara (loose wide trousers worn with a kameez and dupatta by women in South Asia) in like forever, so...

I start with the kameez, a simple short neck long sleeves shirt, pearls, and sequins. Making it a flowery design. The trousers are a little bit lower by the ankles, a simple Fibonacci design with white sequins and pearls.

I want this to be fancy but not over the top, like for parties and gatherings. The color will probably be a light green, perhaps pistachio. It contrasts with the white so well. I finish sketching my thought down. Not going to lie, it looks amazing, if I do say so myself.

Inshallah, one day, I'll be making all my designs in real life. I've got my whole career planned out and ready for when I graduate.

My phone buzzes, and I look at it. It's a text from Mom, saying, "Come to the kitchen." I text back, "kk," and head downstairs to find my mom. My brother and sister are already there.

Baba looks at us and says, "Meri cousin ne hamein Chicago mein apni beti ki shaadi mein dawat di hai" (My cousin invited us to her daughter's wedding in Chicago).

Aya looks at him, "So we're going on vacation." Not gonna lie, if we are, I hope we get to explore Chicago and not just the wedding. He nods and pulls up his computer; the plane tickets are booked, and they're making reservations for the Airbnb in 5 days.

"Wait, what am I going to wear? I need to start packing," I say as I run upstairs. I grab my phone and text Sajid, "I'M GOING TO CHICAGO." I start looking for the fanciest suits I have and pull them out one by one.

He texts back, "WAIT, WHY ARE YOU LEAVING MEEEE." I laugh and smile looking at the text; he's so silly. I text back, "NO, I'LL STILL BE TEXTING YOU DWWW."

I start packing my other clothes, something comfortable and lightweight. I get another text from him, saying, "Wanna go to the mall with the others before you go? You might need something for the trip." I sit there thinking, true, I could buy an outfit to take with me. "Sure, I'll ask my parents about it."

I put down my phone, hoping my parents will let me go to the mall; it would be so much fun. I go back downstairs to find my mom. "Mama, my friends are asking if I can go to the mall before we leave so I can get some nice clothes. Can I go?"

I look at her nervously, hoping she says yes. I wait for a response, but she just thinks for a moment. Will she say yes or no to this decision, I wonder...?