Yo yo yo what's the dealio? (sorry feeling a little gangster)😜
Salaaaam! I am so excited because I didn't plan to update, but I did, and I can bet you're all very excited/surprised/happy, like me!!!
This chapter was really easy to write, it just flowed so naturally alhamdulillah! So I hope you guys enjoy this super early unexpected update since you've all been begging for one! See how nice I am? 😎
Dedicated to loverbone12 for being so friendly and chatting to me! Don't be afraid to PM me if you want to talk or get to know me because I definitely would love to get to know you guys! Seriously, you're all so awesome for reading this story - seriously. God bless you all ❤
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"I think you should stop your volunteer work at the hospital."
As soon as Baba said those words, my spoon dropped to the plate. On the ride home from the hospital, Baba had been awfully quiet and I sensed some tension. Zaid had made it his duty to wait with me until Baba came to pick me up, since it was dark when our shifts were over and he wanted to make sure I was safe. But when I slipped into the front seat Baba had a slight frown between his thick eyebrows and I saw him eyeing Zaid suspiciously, even though Zaid was the least suspicious person I knew.
"Why?" I inquired, although I was sure I knew the answer to this.
"Because it has been interfering with your studies," Baba reasoned.
I frowned. That wasn't what I thought he would say. "I have plenty of time for my studies. My shifts haven't affected my performance at school, Baba, so don't worry about that."
Baba exchanged a look with Mama, who looked equally as concerned. My eyes flitted to Nasr, and even Zeinab, but they didn't seem to know what was going on, just innocently chewing their food. Mama made a pot of beans and we were eating it with pita bread and tabbouleh. I wished I could continue to enjoy the food too without worrying about what my parents were trying to tell me.
"You've been spending time with Zaid alone, Mariam, and you know very well that when a man and woman are alone together –"
"Shaytaan is the third company, yes, Immi, I know," I sighed, glancing down at my beans. "But wallahi, there is nothing –"
"We know you are a good, respectable girl, Mariam and as much as we trust you, we have to protect you from anything that could be haram," Baba interrupted. "And that definitely includes boys."
"But –"
"I know we've kept a blind eye for a while, but I think it's time you realize you are at an age where men can propose to you, and you need to keep yourself completely pure, and that means keeping yourself from being alone with a boy without our supervision," Baba continued.
"How about Theo?" Zeinab asked, butting in as usual.
"Theo doesn't count," Nasr chuckled.
"Actually, he does," I said tentatively. "But I'm not interested in him that way, nor will I ever be."
"We can trust you with Theo because you are with other people, so you are not alone with him," Mama said firmly. "But Zaid..."
I turned to Baba with pleading eyes. "Baba, you said you liked him. Just by looking at him, you said he seemed like a good guy. Why are you suddenly changing your mind?"
Baba shook his head. "No, Mariam, I am not changing my mind, I am making sure nothing happens between you two that shouldn't, especially when..."
"When what?" I urged.
"We want you to marry him," Mama finished.
If I had something in my mouth right then, I would've spat it out in shock. "What?!"
Zeinab giggled while Nasr just pinched his brows together, as if he wasn't sure what to make of this. My parents gazed at me with an intensity that made me feel...vulnerable.
"We spoke to his parents at the mosque and they agreed to the engagement," Baba explained. At the mention of engagement, my blood ran cold. "We decided the only way for you two to keep seeing each other was if you got married, and he comes from such a respectable family, and he would be good for you –"
"No," I shook my head, feeling overwhelmed. "I'm sorry, Baba, Mama, but I'm not ready. I can't do this."
I stood up from the table, my appetite out the window, and rushed to my room without another word, not knowing why my heart was beating so fast, and why I was shaking. For a girl who seemed so held together all the time, I sure was having a hard time keeping it together. Together. Me and Zaid – together. Never in a million years did I imagine Zaid as a potential husband. Just the thought of the word husband made my cheeks redden. I had no problem speaking to boys, playing soccer with them or joking with them, but spending the rest of my life with them in the same house, living together...as much as I loved the idea of having a man to call my own and love me and treat me the way I deserved, it also scared me. A lot.
Was that what I was feeling right now? Scared? I felt my eyes prickle with tears, wondering why they were appearing. I guess I was just so confused...all these emotions...I needed time to think.
"Mariam?"
It was Nasr who knocked on the door I was leaning on, and the sound of his voice soothed me, so I wiped the little bit of wetness from my eyes and let him in. Nasr's eyebrows shot up when he saw me, and I offered a small smile.
"I'm okay," I told him, because I knew that was what he was about to ask me, like all humans did when they sensed someone in need.
"I doubt it, Mims, come on," Nasr stepped forward, clamping a hand on my shoulder and peering at me with his brown eyes. "You can tell me anything, you know that, right? That's what big brothers are for, so don't be hesitant to tell me what you feel."
"That's the thing, Nasr, I don't know what I am feeling about this whole...situation," I sighed, ambling over to my bed. Nasr followed wordlessly, joining me on the mattress. "I never thought it would lead to this."
Nasr cocked an eyebrow. "Really? Because everyone else saw it coming."
"Nasr!" I punched him in the shoulder out of embarrassment, but when that passed, I narrowed my eyes. "What do you mean everyone else saw it coming? Who's everyone else?"
"Mama, Baba, Zeinab, Fatima, Yusuf, Yasmine..." Nasr counted off on his fingers. "Oh, and Zaid."
"Zaid? He knew about this engagement?" I couldn't believe this. During our time today at the hospital, after reading stories to sick children and cleaning up the playroom yet again, Zaid seemed just as he was any other day, joking and teasing. I admit, there were times I questioned whether sitting at the same table during our breaks was considered haram, or just talking to him at all was even halal. And each time I wondered about this, I'd push it out of my mind. It was harmless, after all. I was so comfortable around him I never thought further than friendship. But deep down, I knew it wasn't completely innocent. You could be the holiest person, but there was always Shaytaan, lurking about, making you feel things you didn't want to feel.
"I mean, he probably did know about it, but he might have also...suggested it," Nasr replied.
"Did you know?" I asked. I didn't think I could take it if my own brother didn't tell me about what was happening, but when he shook his head, I let out a breath of relief.
"I didn't know about the engagement, but I did notice other things..." a sly smile spread across Nasr's face, and I squinted at him.
"What other things?" I inquired suspiciously.
"Well, for one, you guys have a lot of chemistry," Nasr chuckled as my eyes widened and I slapped his arm, crying, "Astaghfurullah!"
"Well, it's true," Nasr smirked. "Especially when you were playing soccer at the masjid a couple of weeks ago."
I couldn't help it – I blushed. Not because I agreed with Nasr – astaghfurullah times a million! – but because I hated being the topic of anything vaguely "romantic." "Why does everyone have such a dirty mind? We don't have chemistry, we just get along well. I'm an easy-going person, and I treat everyone equally, boys and girls alike, so –"
"Do you accept the proposal or not?" Nasr interrupted, watching me with a glimmer of amusement.
"No! I mean, I don't know..." I trailed off, staring at my hands. "I'm not ready."
Nasr rumbled with laughter. "Oh, Mariam, you do know that you don't have to get married or engaged right now, don't you? You look as if you're about to face your death or something!"
"Maybe that would be better," I grumbled.
Nasr knocked his shoulder into mine. "Hey, don't say that. You should go back out and finish your dinner, and listen to what they have to say. They just want what's best for you as their daughter and as a Muslim woman."
"I'm not a woman," I mumbled with a chuckle.
"But you will be, soon," Nasr said in a lilting tone. "Once you've graduated, learned to drive, gone to uni..."
"Is that what makes me a woman? By doing all those things?" I asked amusingly.
"No, what makes you a woman is your level of maturity and piousness," Nasr said sensibly. "And to me, little sis, you're the most mature and pious girl I know."
"How many girls do you know, Nasr?" I teased, in which he elbowed me and muttered, "Shut up."
"Hey, that's no way to treat your mature and pious little sis," I chided jokingly, and Nasr rolled his eyes at me, smiling.
"Speaking of marriage, have Mama and Baba told you about...?" I watched Nasr's face carefully, and he furrowed his brow as I looked at him expectantly, seeing if there were any signs of recognition for what I was alluding to.
"About...?"
"About Yusuf!" I decided not to delve into the topic of Yasmine and Nasr, because maybe what I overheard that night over a month ago from Samia and Mama wasn't true, and I didn't want to worry Nasr, even though I really did want to put him on the spotlight just to see him squirm. Nasr had many girls pining after him, but due to his loyalty to his faith, he never pursued any of them, except for that one girl when he was eight and hopelessly in love...but he was only an innocent child then. Now that he was a man, he was keeping himself upright, which was one of the many qualities I respected about my brother. Though he had lots of attention from the ladies due to his looks I still failed to see, he didn't give in to the temptations.
"Yeah, Yusuf himself told me about it," Nasr answered. "Apparently the girl – Najma, I think her name was – is coming over with her parents this weekend for them to meet."
"I hope they get married," I grinned. "I love weddings."
Nasr shot me a cheeky smile. "If you love them so much you should have one yourself!"
Now it was my turn to elbow him in the ribs. "No thank you!"
"I'm just kidding, Mims," Nasr rolled his eyes. "Besides, if you're not ready, that's okay, there's no rush now, but I'm just saying, from the parentals' point of view, this is the best way to go about it if you want to keep seeing Zaid in a halal way."
"But why must I marry him just so I can see him? That sounds a bit extreme to me," I said, scrunching up my nose.
"Think of it this way: Zaid is a man, you are a woman – or girl, whatever you want to call yourself," Nasr added hastily when I gave him a look. "It's natural for a man and woman over time to develop feelings, especially when they spend a lot of time together and get along well. And," Nasr spoke over my rebuttals, since I was about to point out that I got along with Theo and spent time with him, but that was pointless, really, since Theo was Theo and he was just a school mate. So what was Zaid, then? A volunteer mate? A soccer buddy?
"Especially when it's so obvious they like each other," Nasr continued, causing me to burst out laughing.
"I don't like Zaid in that way! Ya Allah, Nasr, don't go saying things like that!" I cried defensively, still shaking with laughter. As nice and caring as Zaid was, I didn't have feelings for him. I had gotten so used to treating everyone equally that I considered boys just as the same as girls when I made friends, and just like I didn't develop feelings for my friends that are girls (astaghfurullah!) I didn't develop feelings for the boys.
"Say wallah," Nasr ordered.
I sighed. "Nasr, don't make me swear to Allah."
Nasr smirked. "So you have feelings for him, then?"
"What? No, no, absolutely not, Nasr! It's just, with things like saying wallah, I don't want to swear to Allah when I'm not a hundred percent sure," I explained.
"You know, the more you try to defend yourself, the more I'm starting to think you do like Zaid," Nasr teased.
"You're a strange brother, you know that? You almost sound happy about this!"
Nasr shrugged. "I mean, I wouldn't mind having Zaid as a brother-in-law. I've always wanted a brother, but instead I got two little sisters...Plus, he's a great soccer player."
"I'm a great soccer player, too," I objected.
"Not as good as Zaid," Nasr said.
"True, but still...you've got Alex, right? He's like a brother to you, isn't he?"
"But he's not Muslim," Nasr complained. "Can't you just accept the proposal and get it over with?"
"Wow, Nasr, and here I thought you were on my side," I scoffed, feeling offended.
"Your side is boring," Nasr moaned. "Now come on, I'm starving, and our dinner's probably cold now." He yanked my arm, dragging me out of my bedroom and back into the dining room, where Mama was clearing the table, mine and Nasr's plates still sitting there. Baba was in the living room, the TV murmuring in the background while Zeinab was in the bathroom. As soon as Mama saw me her eyes softened.
"Mariam, habibti, I'm sorry we scared you," she cooed, and Nasr sent me a look that said, I told you so. Wait, what did he tell me? Oh, that's right. My parents wanted what was best for me. But before that, they also wanted me to be happy.
"I just want to graduate first, Mama," I said as I slid in my seat, picking up my spoon and shovelling some tabbouleh. At least tabbouleh still tasted good cold, but the beans didn't, and Nasr offered to heat it up in the microwave along with his food as Mama stayed to wipe the table and talk to me.
"So does that mean you will marry Zaid Ali?" Mama inquired with a hopeful tone. I knew it was every Lebanese mother's dream for her daughter to get married, but a wedding seemed so far away right now, almost as far away as turning fifty, In Sha Allah. But of course, I was going to marry before I was fifty!
"I need more time to think about it," I said clearly. Mama appeared satisfied with my answer, as if I had said yes (that was the general intention of my words without actually saying the three letter word) and disappeared into the kitchen, Just as Nasr returned with my steaming plate of food.
"Mademoiselle," Nasr said in a horrible French accent as he set the plate before me. He had done French in high school but it had been six years since he learned it so he probably didn't remember anything other than Bonjour and Merci.
"Merci, mon frère," I smiled at him, but he just returned my words with a bemused expression.
"What?"
I sighed, palming my forehead. I guess he didn't even remember Merci either, which was just sad, really.
"Tu es très bête," I tutted, meaning, you are very stupid, shaking my head. And the best part was, Nasr didn't even know what I had said!
"Hey!" Nasr cried, and I widened my eyes.
"You understood that?" I asked incredulously.
"No, but it sounded like an insult," Nasr grumbled.
"You're right, it was, mon frère," I retorted.
Nasr frowned. "Did you just call me something bad?"
I laughed, tearing off some pita bread and mopping up the last bit of beans on my plate. "If being my brother is bad, then yes, I did."
Nasr rolled his eyes. "Inti majnoona." (You're crazy).
***
"Oh my Allah!"
"I know, right?" I sighed, flopping onto my bed with my phone pressed to my ear. Fatima was staying at Phillip Island for the holidays, since her family had a beach house there (lucky girl) and of course, my parents wouldn't let me go with her because they were that protective of me, even though they let me do volunteering shifts at a hospital by myself, but then again, a hospital was the safest place you could be if any harm came to you.
Now, I was telling Fatima everything that went down at dinner a couple hours later, because I really needed to vent to someone other than my family.
"You should totally accept the proposal! I know I would," Fatima said slyly.
"Of course you would, Fatima," I rolled my eyes. "You're boy starved!"
"I thought we agreed that that was a good thing!" Fatima cried.
"Well, it could be a good thing, but also a bad thing, since you don't even know how to act around them," I teased.
"I do, too! I'm not a complete awkward loser," Fatima protested. "Even though I feel like one most of the time..."
"Aw, don't say that, Fatima, you're not a loser," I chided. "You're just awkward."
"Hey!" Fatima cried but she was laughing, and so was I. Most of our conversations were on the phone, and listening to her laugh through the speaker was as if she were right there beside me, instead of a two hour drive away.
"Anyway, I told my parents I would think about it but really I'm just giving them false hope," I continued after sobering up. "I'm just not ready, you know? I don't feel like it's the right time."
"Well, In Sha Allah, there will come a time when you are ready," Fatima said. "And when that time comes, I will be right beside you as your bridesmaid, helping you get ready."
For some reason my eyes welled up with tears as I pictured my wedding day, surrounded by all the people I loved, saying goodbye to their baby girl who would then be a wife. "Aw, Fatima, you've made me all emotional!" I accused, laughing.
"Maybe your period's coming," Fatima joked.
I groaned. "Ugh, I really hope it doesn't come when school starts. The first couple of days are agony."
"Tell me about it," Fatima muttered. "But seriously, I can't wait until one of us gets married. I wonder who will get married first..."
"Out of you, me, Yasmine and Zeinab, I can bet that Yasmine will be first," I chuckled.
"Why Yasmine?" Fatima asked. "Has she already got her eyes set on someone?"
Though it was meant as a joke, I wondered if Fatima knew something about what Samia and Mama were discussing, but then I realized I was being ridiculous. Fatima wasn't there that night! She had no idea!
"Not exactly..." I began. "Her parents have sort of already decided on someone for her after she graduates."
"Ooh! Who is it?" Fatima sounded so excited, I didn't know if I was ready to break her heart like this, even if I didn't know what was in her heart, so I just took a deep breath and blurted, "Nasr."
"Oh," I could just picture Fatima now, chewing her lip and frowning that cute frown she had when she was mulling over something. "Okay."
"It's not official or anything, but I overheard my mum and her mum talking about it..." I trailed off, feeling bad. "Hey, are you okay?"
"Yeah, why wouldn't I be? I mean, it's not like I have a crush on Nasr or anything," Fatima scoffed.
"I thought you did," I teased.
"Oh, shush!" Fatima laughed. "I mean, honestly, Mariam, my crush on Nasr was purely platonic, nothing more, nothing less. Yeah, he's good-looking and every Muslim girl's dreamboat since Zayn Malik –"
"Please tell me you didn't just compare my brother to Zayn Malik!" I grimaced. "That boy has gone rogue since his video Pillow Talk."
"How do you know about that if you don't listen to music anymore, Mariam?" I could hear the smirk in Fatima's voice, and I sighed.
"Don't forget Nasr always puts the radio on in the car, plus Zeinab still keeps tabs on those boys since they split, so don't blame me!" I said in my defence.
"Okay, I won't blame you, Mariam, but as I was saying, I'm not after your brother in that way. Though it'd be nice to marry him, I'm not about to chase after Nasr any time soon," Fatima chuckled.
"I can't imagine you chasing anyone, Fatima," I said lightly. "You're too...reserved."
"By reserved do you mean boring?"
"No, reserved as in good and respectable," I covered up. "Plus, guys should be chasing you, I mean, you're gorgeous!"
"Oh, stop it," Fatima smiled helplessly – I could hear her smile in her words, that's how close of a connection we had as friends and sisters in Islam.
"Seriously, you should be a model or something! You are a Pakistani jewel!" I continued complimenting her until Fatima couldn't take it anymore, because she always squirmed under praise, which just showed how humble she was.
"Gosh, you're making me blush, Mariam!" Fatima exclaimed.
"I know, I can hear you blushing," I said cheekily. "But seriously, Fatima. Don't put yourself down. One day you will find some awesome guy who will treat you like a Queen, and then you will get married, have kids, grandkids –"
"Okay, I get the picture!" Fatima laughed. "In Sha Allah."
"In Sha Allah," I echoed. Then I heard a strange beep through the phone, a beep I had heard before whenever a call was coming through. "Hold on, I think someone's calling me."
"Okay, I guess I'll just sit here with my phone to my ear and wait for you," Fatima grumbled.
"You don't have to do that, you can just hang up on me," I insisted.
"What kind of friend would that make me?" Fatima shot back with a laugh. "Besides, it's kind of boring down here by the coast. I have to stay inside the beach house at night and my parents are hogging the TV so I have nothing to do..."
"What about Aisha, your sister? Can't you talk to her?" I asked.
"I'd rather talk to you, habibti," Fatima replied, causing me to grin widely, but then the beeping tone sounded again, so I said my Salam to her and switched to the next call.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Virgin Mary."
I groaned. "Damian."
"How'd you guess?" Damian smirked. Yep, that's right, his smirk was so strong I could hear it.
"Maybe because your ego was dripping through the phone," I retorted.
"Just my ego? I was hoping it was my sexy voice that gave it away," Damian said with mock disappointment.
"No comment," I muttered, settling back on my pillows and wondering what the Jahannam I was thinking when I handed my number to this delinquent. "Anyway, you must be calling for a good reason, right?"
"Does it have to be a good reason?" Damian whined.
"If it isn't, I'm hanging up," I said sternly.
"Okay, okay, it's a good reason, then!" Damian sounded so desperate, and I swear I was about to switch back to Fatima, who was waiting oh so patiently on the other line, but I sighed, giving him a second chance, even though I didn't want to.
"Are you calling to talk about Islam?"
"No, actually, I'm calling to talk about Judaism," Damian said sarcastically, and I rolled my eyes.
"I don't appreciate the sarcasm, Damian," I said dryly.
"Anyway, I've been doing a bit of research, and what I've found is quite interesting actually," I raised my eyebrows at how serious Damian sounded, all jokes aside, and I was also impressed that he'd gotten straight to the point. Like I had said, I didn't like beating around the bush.
"So you guys believe in the same Prophets as Christians and Jews, right?" Damian asked, and I confirmed with a yes. "And that includes Jesus?"
"Yeah, of course, he was one of the most important prophets," I replied. "He is mentioned more in the Quran than our own prophet, Muhammad, peace be upon him."
"But you don't believe he's the son of God, like the Christians do," Damian stated. "Which makes sense, I guess, to me."
"That's good that it makes sense to you," I remarked with a smile. "But do you know why?"
"Well, according to the internet, which is totally reliable," Damian chuckled. "Muslims believe that Jesus didn't die for our sins or whatever. Jesus didn't even get crucified at all, which is crazy since, well, that's the main thing about being a Christian – they believe in the crucifixion that saved humanity from sins. I know this because of my mum, she's into all that stuff."
"By stuff you mean Christianity?" I said amusingly.
"Well, yeah. Anyway, I just wanted to talk about that cause there's so many correlations between Christianity and Islam, but then there's big differences too, and I was curious as to why they were different," Damian concluded with a heavy breath. That was probably the most Damian had ever spoken to me in one go, and the best part was he was speaking about religion, not sexual innuendos.
"Firstly, there's the big difference, which is the belief of the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, but you see, that didn't actually happen," I explained. "Why would God kill one of his own prophets? Don't you think that would be a bit extreme? Given that he is the most gracious, most merciful and all."
"I never thought about it before, actually," Damian said. "I used to think it was all bullshit anyway."
"Well, let me clear this bullshit for you," I responded, inwardly cringing at the use of the word. It was not nice to bag on other religions, no matter how much you disagreed with them. "You see, it was another man who was crucified instead. God made this man look like Jesus so that the people would believe they killed Jesus, when in fact, God saved him by raising him to heaven. And we, like the Christians, believe that he will be resurrected and return to Earth."
"Hm," Damian took this all in. "But I don't understand how the guy looked like Jesus. How does that even work?"
I smiled, even though he couldn't see me (alhamdulillah for that because I wasn't even wearing a hijab and I felt bad enough talking to Damian through the phone but at least it was for a good cause, or so I told myself), and replied simply with, "Well, that's the power of Allah, God Almighty. He is capable of anything beyond human capacity, and we would be foolish not to submit to His will."
"Are you calling me a fool?" Damian scoffed.
"No, because you're already submitting to His will," I said. "You just don't know it yet."
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What did you guys think of the Chapter? I personally enjoyed writing it, so I hope you enjoyed reading it!
Can't believe there are around 50 of you readers (yep, I'm counting) this is the most popular story ever and it's made me realize that the people like stories about bad boys and good girls haha so cliche but this is slightly different hopefully and not cliche! I want to preach a message through the story as well as keep it fun and I personally love writing about Islamic facts because it makes me realize how rational and logical our religion is and how there are people out there missing out on this beautiful religion that just sparks so much emotion and peace for me!
For those of you who aren't Muslim, I hope you are enjoying the story and getting something out of it, even if it's just some inside info on what us Muslims are really like! We swear we don't bite!
Anyway, I better go to bed, it's been a long day for me so Ma'a salama peace be upon you and have a good week!!!!!!!
P.S. I love you ALL!!!❤❤❤❤