HALF HER DEEN

6.

I rose early in the morning for Fajr prayers with the family, and after our prayers , we went our separate ways as usual, Abou and I going back to bed while our parents stayed in the living room. However, around 7 a.m., I stirred and prepared myself for my 8 a.m. class.

In the quietness of the morning, as the golden rays of the sun began to stretch across my bedroom, I experienced an epiphany. It was a moment of clarity that cut through the sea of doubts and fears that had engulfed me the night before. I had met Hassan Musa just a week ago, a mere stranger in the grand scheme of my life. Yet, as I gazed at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, the subtle smile that graced my lips told me everything I needed to know. It was as if a good night's sleep had been a conversation with my heart, and Istikhara a prayer for divine guidance that had gently whispered in my ear. I knew, with a certainty that defied the shadow of doubt, that I wanted to marry Hassan. He had become an inseparable presence in my thoughts, and envisioning a future with him had taken root in my heart. They say that when you know, you simply know, and in that quiet morning hour, the undeniable truth was laid bare before me: I wanted to be Hassan's wife, and it appeared he felt the same way about me.

The realization set in, and I couldn't help but leap around my bathroom, giggling silently to myself.

I couldn't wait to share this news with everyone. After getting dressed, I joined my Zoom class, but it was cut short because my lecturer had an unexpected meeting. It was as though the universe was nudging me to stop delaying the announcement of my acceptance of the marriage proposal any longer.

I descended the stairs to find my family gathered for breakfast, engaged in casual conversation. As I greeted them and began to make my plate, a thought raced through my mind. Should I share my decision now? No, I'll wait.

"Why are you down here instead of attending your Zoom class, Halimah?" my Baba asked , a hint of curiosity in his voice.

"I want to marry Hassan. I accept the marriage proposal," I blurted out. Well, this works too.

The clatter of forks against plates stopped , and the dining room fell into silence as three pairs of eyes were locked on me. My parents' expressions were a mix of joy and surprise, while Aboubacar appeared genuinely bewildered as he asked, "What? What's happening?"

Tears welled in my Baba's eyes, and he tentatively questioned, "A-are you sure? You're not doing this because you feel pressured, right?" My sweet baba.

"No, Dad. I want to. This is my decision," I affirmed, placing my hand over his across the table, gently squeezing it.

My mother's excitement was palpable as she leaped up to shower me with kisses, offering thanks to Allah with tears of joy. My brother followed suit, embracing me warmly, voicing his happiness despite grumbling about not being informed earlier.

My father, meanwhile, hurried off, likely to inform our soon to be In-laws about the news, and my mother cheerfully did the dishes, a bounce in her every step. I climbed upstairs to wake Ayeesha up and share the news, almost deafened by her screams. Hassan occupied my thoughts throughout the day, leaving my heart and my stomach aflutter with butterflies.

I was finally on the path to becoming a married woman.

-

In the whirlwind of the upcoming wedding, it was as if time had decided to play tricks on me. The following weeks were a chaotic blur of wedding preparations, and my once-quiet home, accustomed to the presence of only four people, now teemed with activity every day. News of Hassan's proposal was met with joy and anticipation. However, shortly after the announcement, Hassan had to return to London for work. His tech company was ascending the ranks in the London business world and he was opening up another branch here with his partner, a fact I had learned while innocently stalking him online after our last meeting.