A fanfiction book for For Our Love and Love So Far combined. I am open to requests, for anyone who likes to see any particular scene/moments.
This is a gift for the readers based on their suggestions and requests.
Cover by the wonderful @ShabanaThe...
Requested by @MehweenGR and @shraddhakim as contribution to a quiz I had added in the previous book.
I get it, technically this isn't a fanfiction, but it is based on requests from the readers, so I guess it counts...
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THE PROPOSAL
Ahad
I had made up my mind. I wanted to marry Zoya.
However, because I was trying to do everything the right way, I wanted to do this in a halal way.
The question was: how do you propose marriage directly to the girl in a halal way?
Well, Zoya didn't have a mehram in her life. Her Nana Jaan, the only mehram that she'd ever known, had passed away a long time ago, and the man who had fathered her (as she describes him) was God-knows-where, after abandoning Zoya's Mamma and Zoya, when the latter was three. Even if she had half-brothers somewhere out there, she wasn't aware of it.
So I decided, that if I wanted to do this the right way, I'll have to do it in the presence of the senior male members that I knew, of good character, like Papa and Ali Uncle.
I decided to organise a dinner for the combined families and I invited Zoya to attend.
I then did the entire decoration, basically by myself, with the help of Zafar and the household help. Fariha Bhabi (as I should refer to her as now), suggested the decoration ideas, and she was the one who was going to bring Zoya to our home.
I'd let my family, and the Ali family, in on the plan, because I wanted it to be as Islamically acceptable as possible. Papa and Ali Uncle were happy to basically act as Zoya's mehram, based on their seniority.
And then she showed up with Fariha Bhabi, looking stunning in that dress...
It was a little un-Zoya, because I was used to seeing her in darker colours, but I knew that she dressed up specially as I respect to the families. It was a light pink Anarkali dress with a lace border and a net dupatta. She wore white wedges and her hair was pinned back, with curls framing her face.
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Her eyes widened as she saw the garden, as Fariha Bhabi had led her straight there, where I was waiting, wearing a black Armani suit with a black tie.
