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Layla would be landing in Los Angeles in 20 minutes.
I wait in front of the terminal with Hamza as he keeps checking the time on his phone every 2 minutes. "I'm going to go get an iced coffee, do you want anything?" I ask my brother who looks up.
"Yeah. The same as you." He says and I walk to Starbucks and buy their overpriced coffee. Ten minutes pass and I come back to where Hamza is with two iced coffees handing him one, and my brother is still watching the time on his phone. "Thanks." He replies and looks back down.
"If you stare at the time, it will feel as if it is going slower," I tell him and Hamza groans throwing his phone toward me. I make sure to catch it and pocket it safely.
"I haven't seen Layla in 5 months. I fucking miss her, Inaya. I need her by my side." He says to me and I smile loving their romance. Hamza may sometimes be an annoying egotistical loser but I respect how much he cares about his wife—or fiancé—or...
"What is Layla to you?" I ask my brother having no clue what their relationship is. All I know for a fact is that they are not legally married nor did they have any sort of wedding event except a private nikkah.
"In Islam, she is my wife but by law, she is my fiancé. We will finally be having a reception next week." He says to me and I smile. I am happy that all of my siblings found love through their arranged marriages. I'm glad that it worked out for them.
We wait a few more minutes in silence as I watch families and friends reuniting with each other when from the distant corner I see a 5 foot 7 Bengali Muslim girl walking towards us. Layla!
I say nothing to Hamza waiting until he realizes her near presence but my brother continues to impatiently look at the time go by on his watch.
"Hamza!" Layla shouts and my brother's head raises faster than the speed of light. He jumps out of the chair and holds his arms out as Layla runs into his embrace. "I missed you." I hear Hamza whisper into her shoulder as my sister-in-law laughs.
"I missed you too." She replies and they release each other. Layla spots me and her smile widens as I swing myself into her arms. "We have a lot to talk about." She tells me and I cock my head in mock innocence. "Don't even, Inaya. Amma already ranted to me on the phone a week ago." I groan at hearing that and intertwine my arm with Layla's.
We walk towards Hamza's car and Layla begins spewing many questions my way. "So Angelo is very wealthy and a Muslim revert but amma doesn't approve of him because of his ethnicity, right?" Layla asks me and I nod along. "But you said he treats you very well. He doesn't belittle you for not coming from a rich family and for having mental health issues. He says you won't have to cook or clean. So the only problem amma has with him is that he has tattoos and that he's Italian." Layla tries making sense of my argument with amma by repeating everything I told her. "Damn, when amma called me I thought you got pregnant." Astagfirrulah!
