Less Than Perfect

{10} Breaking Cupid's Arrow

Kanza Hadad

Bored was the only word to describe this meeting. No, bored didn't cover half of my emotions.

As I sat in the Middle Eastern restaurant, hidden by a veil of dimly lit lanterns and engulfed by a culture that was overlooked by Americans, I stared in awe at the scenery around me, the portraits of history etched across the walls, the laughter and amusement of families and friends all around, and the comforting embrace at the tight-knit community that came from restaurants like these. 

It felt like a home. 

The restaurant was the only thing that kept me in my seat as my twenty-year old brother, Adnan and I listened to the voice of a potential suitor of mine, Dayyan Masharawi. Adnan and him engaged in idle chatter as we ate, talking about politics or social stigmas that surrounded American universities. 

I, on the other hand, was sick of listening to it. My parents wanted me to give him a chance, to open my eyes and heart to a man who could one day become my husband, but that click, that sense of security ceased to exist. 

Leaning my cheek against the palm of my hand, I dared a look at Dayyan, watching him visibly tense under my scrutinizing gaze. "So," I began. "If we got married, is there anything you'd have concerns about regarding my personal life?"

Dayyan wasn't an unattractive man. In fact, I'd been told that he was highly sought after by young Muslim and non-Muslim women. The man had a pair of dreamy eyes, a shade of pale green with specks of hazel outlining his pupils like the sun's rays expelling into the corners of his eyes, bright and playful, full of youth, full of mischief. 

Those eyes only seemed to make me anxious. That's never a good sign, I thought to myself.

Through his gaze, I felt unease like he was portraying a persona, a false identity. I couldn't explain why or how my body reacted in caution, but I knew these instincts were signs from Allah. The rational part of my brain told me to give him a chance. Maybe I was paranoid after the events that caused the demise of my old love or maybe I was on edge from knowing that Tanwir was also in the restaurant. 

Whatever my reasons were, I decided to be meticulous in my questions, to test his identity and know if he was being truthful. 

When he still didn't answer, I raised a brow. "Well?" I prompted. 

He shook his head, smiling widely at me with shimmering white teeth, a poster perfect smile across his pale, slightly blushing visage. "Sorry, I was a bit preoccupied with my thoughts," he said, voice low, fluid with a roughness that seemed gentle when he spoke softly. Dayyan brushed his brown hair away from his forehead, pushing the strands back into their slicked-back, wavy appearance. "I personally find every part of you to be extraordinary and full of life. I wouldn't change you."

I lifted my head, giving him a blank stare. "Really?" 

Flashing me another smile, tilting his head a slight degree so that his smile seemed more luminous than the lanterns that dangled above us like shooting stars, a smile that demanded a wish from above. My guard only increased at the precise, careful movements of his hand, slow as he stroked the stubble on his chin.

What game is he playing at? What's with these picture perfect moves he's using?

"I don't believe that a woman should be tied down to a man and forget all their inhibitions," he stated, glancing at my brother briefly. Adnan nodded, appreciating the comment, but I knew his guard was up as well. Dayyan continued. "There are some men in our community that would hate the idea of you running a YouTube channel and being an influencer. I can guarantee that many would criticize your representation of Islam for their cultural beliefs, but I'm not them. I won't ever shame you for who you are."