It Wasn't

1| Fatimah

Fatimah POV

Imagine you suddenly need to spend your entire life with someone you barely know just because you both are 'classmate'. Hardly ever talk to him, know him, or care about him. Yet, he came to your house and asked something about it. You wish it wasn't him. You wish he wasn't like that. You wish he didn't come to your house in the first place.

Then, what will you do?

'I'll shock and faint. Then I'll reject it as soon as I wake up,' and that would be my dramatic answer if it was true. But realizing this is my reality, I can't help myself with the surroundings. Everyone was looking at me, waiting for my answer, and even myself– still numb about it. 

Especially when the results are for the person in front of me.

—

"So, what's your answer, Fatimah?" Mr. Hakim asked me. The proposer's father looked at me with the hopeful eyes, I guess. His lips form into a smile, and his fingers intertwined together.

I sat on the couch with my parents between me. It was a three-seater couch, same as the visitor's couch. Both of them are facing each other with a coffee table placed between us. Six tea cups filled with hot tea and a teapot on the tray (It's not important to write, actually).

My father was on my left and my mother on my right. Also, it is the same as the proposer's position. He was literally facing directly at me, and it shivered me out! Plus, he looked at me as if the predator was staring at his lunch. 

Stop looking at me, you freak!

"Fatimah?" I got startled as it got onto my shoulder when my mom called me. I instantly swifted my head to my right, seeing my mom looking at me with the face of 'are you okay?'.

She could read my face, so I said quietly, 'I can't answer this'.

"It's up to you," she whispered with a hopeful smile to me. Nope, she can't read me.

I smiled and nodded. Then I turn to my left and ask my father in a whisper, "Do you agree to this?"

"It's up to you," my father answered, same. 

In my mind, I left a big-heavy sigh. I'm not ready yet, but knowing they meant truly for my decision, I know that if I disagree with this, things get extremely awkward for the relationship between my father and his. I just know that they both were friends, since I-don't-know and I-don't-have-any-intention-to-ask-right-now. I'll be the friendship breaker between the two of them, and then it will leave me guilty forever. Ahh! I don't want that!!

Think, Fatimah! Think!!

This guy... this guy suddenly came to my house, and there was when I got the call from my parents about their presence. Gladly, it was the weekend, but still, I was in my university, and I needed to get back home at the exact time just to get the discussion to continue.

And here I am now, numb for the answer.

I headed up, facing the family proposer, and took a deep breath in silence, "I need some time to think about this," then my gaze shifted to the person in front of me. He didn't give any reaction, nor a smile or a nod from him. 

He made me wonder… what is going on inside his head... and I want to ask him.

But with the surroundings of adults, I'm afraid to speak up for myself. I want a private conversation with him and not being watched by our parents.

"We understand," Mr. Hakim stated. "Don't be scared to tell your decision. It's up to you, Fatimah."

I nod. For the third time I heard that word, it doesn't help me at all to decide, and it makes me want to run away right now, but once they ask about this again, I'm doomed. 

"When will you give your answer?" my mother asked me quietly.

I turned to my mother and, from the face, she said to tell them. I turn back to my front and from my coward, "In a week, is that okay?" 

Finally, something changed on his face. His lips twitched into a smirk, but then he faced down to his phone. This man...

—

Not even once have I thought about the proposal since the day he proposed. The week that I said to them was just cowardly to run away from the question. I didn't do the istikharah prayers or even ask people about their opinion. The thing that I could say is: I have no intention of getting married.

It's not because I don't believe in love or romance, although I do read romance novels or dramas. It's because the reality wasn't the same as what people make in romance stories. A lot of things could happen, arguments, break-ups, and fights. Well, you probably say that it was a common thing in a relationship, and I'm afraid of that. What if there'll no solution in an argument or never get back? Isn't it going to be just a waste of time?

Plus, the fact that I'm still studying is the reason I have no intention of getting married. I want to focus on my career first. Get some experience in independence, get a job, and get my own car or something. Then, I will focus on a relationship. But now, things just got sooner, and I ran away by not thinking about this marriage. 

Six days have passed, and today, I need to get back to my parents' house for my answer tomorrow. Like I said, I didn't think about it, and I brought myself home with no answer. How great was that! 

Ha ha ha...

What's wrong with me?

Before heading to my parents' house, I stopped by a mall. I want to buy something for myself because I don't want to get home that early. 

So the first thing I did in the mall was buy a Boba tea from Tealive for myself and stay in the café after I ordered a pastry to eat there. Weird, isn't it? Drink Boba tea at the café.

As I waited for my pastry, I opened my phone and one of my files to read an e-book I saved. 

You never met him

Even the first sentence had been this dramatic, which I like. The starter would be the important sentence to make because it will show the first impression to the reader. Same as in a relationship. Not starting with a sudden marriage with a sudden guy in a sudden time, as in a sudden proposal. This man really is a sudden person.

How would the process be fine?

I haven't even had a proper conversation with him yet. The day I was proposed to, the person that had the most talk was his father and my father. The first time I heard his voice was when he said to me directly about the reason he came here. Honestly, I give a surprise reaction and a frown. As I was saying, 'Are you serious?'

In the formal conversation with our parents, I don't have any time to talk to him. After the meeting, they get out together, and I also don't have any courage to speak up for myself. I hate myself for that.

"Fatimah?"

I glanced up to the person who called me. My eyes suddenly widened. He wore a light-blue button-down shirt, tightened in with a black belt and a black slack. Iced coffee in his right hand and a file in his left hand.

One of my brows lifted, and I muttered something inside my head. Dissatisfaction, to be sure.

"Why're you here?" I asked.