Chapter 3

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HUSNA'S POV

I rushed downstairs, catching my breath only when I stumbled into the kitchen. I didn't want Adeel seeing me without Ummi and Abba around. They were upstairs in their room, and I still had to put the food onto the table. Maariah whispered to me that she would take care of the guests, and I took the time to prepare the food. Ummi and Abba came downstairs, and he put Adeel and his father, Uncle Hussain, in the lounge and Aunty Ruksana came to the kitchen with us. The jardo (sweet rice) was ready, and we had prepared dhal (doll) and rice. I was confident that they would enjoy the food. For sides I had made flamby dessert (honey and a falooda type of dessert) and masala chips, my favourites. Aunty Ruksana complimented my food, based on the aroma, and I smiled, saying Jazakallah. Aunty Ruksana was not the typical mother in law I had imagined. She wore a scarf, the front of her hair still showing, and a short dress with tights and heels. I wondered what Adeel was like.

Finally, my father called me to come and speak to Adeel, and the two men sat in the corner watching us, but not listening. I didn't dare look up at Adeel, but I could feel his gaze penetrating through my hijab. I looked up, and Adeel was clearly not what I expected.

He wore tight black and white printed joggers, with Converse sneakers and a torso-hugging 'I'm fly, you're dry' tshirt, an Adidas jacket hanging loosely over. His hair was thick and black, streaked blonde, and a few silver rings on his left middle finger. He smiled at me, a lopsided smile. In all honesty, he looked like a mixed version of Justin Bieber and Zayn Malik. Not my dream guy, but a lot of others would want this.
"Hello darling! You look like a supermodel today, I hope you look like this everyday," he grinned. Then he winked, making me want to slap him and strangle him at the same time. He twiddled his thumbs and said, "Don't worry darling, I'll treat you well. I know what girls like. I'm experienced in every department there. All of them. But now I wanna settle down with someone good, coz sometaam you needa find somewaan who has less chill than you ya know what I mean? Coz you are a good girl ritteee? I hope ya are. I've had mah fair share of bad girls. Gambling dens, nightclubs, festivals, but I promise ya, you don't need ta come with me," he drawled.

Ya Allah! I couldn't marry a guy who had a dozen girlfriends, had 'experience' in Allah knows what, and wanted to have a good time with other girls and then come home and do the same thing with me as halal.

I woke up and left, passing my father, who followed me into the empty room.

I looked him square in the eye and said NO.

He protested, but I remained obstinate and stayed annoyed for the rest of the week.

This couldn't be my Taqdeer. I know that destiny works in mysterious ways, I know that I can never defy Allah's will, but why would Allah will me to marry a guy who wasn't even chaste, let alone pious?
Wasn't it said that good men were for good women, chaste men for chaste women?

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