MARRIED TO MR. MAFIA

Repentance

. "Allah (God) is with those who have patience." Quran 2:153

Maliha p.o.v

​"You called?"

​I stood on the balcony, the heavy, perforated white screen serving as a rigid barrier between us. Through its tiny geometric openings, I could catch fleeting, fractured glimpses of him, but nothing whole. My heart pounded so violently against my ribs that panic flared what if he could hear it? What if he saw through my fragile composure and left me utterly mortified?

​Oh my Lord, please help me, I prayed silently, squeezing my eyes shut.

​But my eyes flew open the instant his voice broke the silence. It was deep, textured with a familiar huskiness that instantly sent my pulse into overdrive.

​"Assalamualaikum," he greeted.

​I internally smacked my forehead. Stupid, stupid. I should have been the one to greet him first.

​"Wa-Alaikum-assalam," I managed to reply, trying to keep my voice steady.

​"I know you are probably wondering why I called you out here so suddenly," he said. Though the barrier obscured his face, I could hear the gentle curve of a smile in his tone.

​My anxiety spiked. Oh God, my heart is going to explode. I nervously began to fidget, twisting my fingers together.

​"I came to ask you directly about the marriage, Maliha," Hamza continued, turning more fully toward the screen that kept us apart. "Do I have your genuine consent? If you are being forced into this, or if you're under any pressure at all, you can tell me."

​The question hung in the air, bringing my deepest insecurities rushing to the surface. I couldn't hold them back.

​"Why?" I blurted out, the words raw. "Why would you agree to marry a disabled girl like me? I can't even walk properly. You could have any girl you want... so why me?"

​"Because I have always loved you," Hamza answered without a shred of hesitation. "In my eyes, you are the only perfect woman I have ever seen, the only one I have ever desired to marry. If it isn't you, I don't plan on marrying anyone at all. No one could ever compare to your beauty in my eyes."

​Hearing his heartfelt words, I quickly clamped a hand over my mouth, desperate to stifle the sob escaping my throat so he wouldn't hear me cry.

​For days and nights beyond counting, I had played a hundred different versions of his confession over and over in my head. But none of my fantasies could even begin to touch the overwhelming reality of what he had just said.

​"But this is my love for you," Hamza added quietly into the silence, misunderstanding my quietness. "If you aren't comfortable with it, then I will-"

​"Why confess now, after all these years?" I interrupted. The questions were swirling too fast in my mind, and I couldn't stop them from spilling out.

​"Because I was terrified of your rejection," he admitted softly. "I was so afraid that you didn't see me that way."

​"Hamza?" I whispered.

​"Yes?"

​"I give my consent for this marriage," I said, a tearful smile breaking across my face. I closed my eyes, silently pouring out my heart in gratitude, praising my Lord for everything.

​Through the screen, a breathless, disbelieving gasp reached my ears. "You-you do?"

​I could hear the pure, unadulterated happiness radiating from his voice, and for the first time in a long time, the barrier between us didn't feel so wide.