Halaal Love

Chapter 41

“You're so funny!”

“That's why you love me,” he winks flirtatiously, which makes me scrunch my nose in fake disgust and show my tongue at him.

“I don't!”

“Yes you do,” he grabs my wrists and wiggle his brows, making me laugh even more harder. “Look! Your eyes twinkle with love and affection when you look at me!”

“You're so full of yourself! Continue dreaming, Mr. Abdullah!”

“You still love me anyway,” he leans forward, resting his head on my shoulder while wrapping his arms around me. This big guy can be so childish and pampered sometimes. He may be tall and a bit muscular, but deep down inside, I know he's a mommy's boy.

“You act like my son, not my husband.”

“You treat me like a baby. It's not my fault that I'm spoilt,” he pouts. I hold his face in my hands and squeeze his cheeks.

“Ow! Weely? Ow, my baby!” I pinch his cheeks hard, but not too much hard that he'd become sulky and eat my chocolates. He screams, rubbing his cheeks for comfort. I smirk, “Ow baby! I'm so sowwy! Mommy's sowwy!”

“You're evil.”

“Says you, babe,” I wink and rise up from the bed while rolling up my sleeves and head for the washroom.

“Where are you going?”

“Omar, please be logical. I'm going to the washroom, can't you see?” His eyes widen like they're going to bulge out of their sockets.

“It's a washroom? I thought it's a store room! I offered Wudhu' in the Masjid's toilet! I didn't know where's the bathroom!” I palm my face. Allah, help this misguided, helpless man.

“Omar, there's something called asking. Please use it when you need to.” I shake my head and head in to the bathroom, offering Wudhu' to pray Asr. When I walk back in to the bedroom, Omar's lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling like normal people do. It looks like he's slowly dozing off as his eyelids are half-open.

I grab the Sajadah(Praying mat) and the Praying cloth from the cupboard, lay the Sajadah on the floor facing the Qiblah and wear the cloth on top of my Jimmy Neutron pajama, which is actually Omar's but I use them anyway because I love the pajama.

After I have prayed, I read the Qur'an for a few pages before I feel drowsiness seeping in to me. I place the Qur'an gently on top of Yusuf's laptop—which he oddly, keeps in this room.  I fold the Sajadah and the Praying cloth, placenit back on its place and lock the door nefore climbing back up to bed. There's still two more hours left till Maghrib.

I pull the blanket over our bodies and wrap my arms around Omar's waist for warmth. It's weird how his body always seem to be giving out a lot of heat—even when he entwine our hands, his body heat immediately gives me warmth. It's one of the reasons why I love to be by his side—because he makes me feel warm and comfortable. Even when I'm with my own siblings, they can never make me feel as comfortable as I am when I'm with him. And for what feels like the thousandth time, I'm so glad I accepted his proposal and avoided Jassim's. Not that Jassim is not my style or anything—but I'm sure things won't be like this for me. I won't understand and change my childish attitude, I won't be able to understand true and halaal love. And with Omar, he teaches me the true meaning of halaal love.

I remember, once he said to Amira as an advice: “If you're dating before marriage, just to know each other, it's no fun. It's better if couples know less about each other before marriage so they'll learn about each other more, once they're married. That's true romance. Loving each other while slowly trying to know them.”