From Aliya to Hafiz

Nine.

[A/N; Jasra Abdulfattah^^^]

Aliya.

Time seemed to be crawling by. Or maybe it was just me.

Two days have passed since my alteration with Mr Hakimi, meaning there were three days left in the deadline given by Auntie.

I've had a lot of time to think things through. Probably because of guilt or something closely related to that, Mom and Auntie had given me a lot of space, not bothering me at all.

Sincerely, I had an inkling of what I was getting myself into. I had to get married to someone who didn't respect my religion or my gender and move in with him to a country that was even more discriminatory against my way of life.

I had never experienced the air there yes. But it doesn't take rocket science to figure out how different and difficult it was going to be.

Mom obviously wasn't backing down on her decision. I knew she felt ashamed and low all this time because of all Auntie had done for us. She might not look it, but she was someone who valued her self-esteem a lot.

Normally, that wouldn't be considered a bad thing. But seeing the situation her nature thrust me into...well, I didn't want to think about how unfair it was at all.

Auntie on the other hand had already started buying my betrothal gifts; preparing my set of boxes and all. The probability of talking her out of that whacked idea was nil.

I didn't even want to think about approaching it from Mr. Hakimi's angle.

Shockingly, the only solution I came up with was that cheap bastard Hafiz.

If both the bride and groom-to-be were to show their displeasure and disagreement towards the marriage, nothing could be done right? It could only be dissolved.

The idea itself was tantalizing but where the water was I was supposed to get his contact address? I had looked up his name on social media but came up blank.

With a sigh, I carried my laptop and walked to the balcony. Settling down on the small lounge space by the left wall, I switched it on and opened Instagram.

"Let's try Hakeems this time...okay no that. How about Hafiz Hakim then? Still no...then we'll—oh who am I kidding this isn't going to work!" I pushed the laptop aside, frustrated.

Burying my face in my palms, I blinked back the tears. At this point, even I didn't know whether it was the idea of marrying that butt that was agitating me or just getting married in general.

I was the kind of person who had minimal contact with guys. Like I went to an all-girls boarding school from my junior secondary through my senior years.

I was scared of men, to be honest.

Or maybe, I was wary because I didn't know how to talk to them, didn't know what to expect. And it didn't help that the only man I saw daily was Haroon and my lecturers.

There was no difference between them and pebbles on the ground.

A pinging sound coming from my laptop pulled me away from my thoughts. I checked to see it was my friend, Jasra, massaging me.

We met when Auntie, Mom and I went for Hajj five years ago and we exchanged contacts. We have been keeping in touch ever since. I wouldn't say we were the best of friends but for an online friendship, we were quite tight.

Jazzy_abdulfattah: Hi, what are you doing? It's been a while.

Me: Hey, nothing really. Yeah, it has. How are you?