A Match Made In Jannah

Chapter 8

"Husna, he...he... He's here! At your house! Now!" Maariah squealed. Ya Allah, the way this child was behaving it was as if Harry Styles had come to propose. Then again, anonymous guy probably looked really hot, according to Maariah standards, and she was utterly delighted that I'd found a cute match. "Husna, follow me down the stairs." We walked downstairs, as quietly as my heels allowed us to, and a figure began walking past the dining room. I turned to look, but Maariah pushed me behind the wall.

"The guy... Is... Z," she said through ragged breaths, but I couldn't hear her. Zaid stood there, speaking to my father as if it was the most normal thing in the world. My head spun and I wobbled dizzily. I looked terrible. Make up.

I raced up the stairs and pulled out my make up kit. Filled eyebrows, plumpier lips and clear skin. My eyeliner now winged in a perfect line and the eye shadow in contrast with the abaya but glowing ony skin tone.

It was time to go see Zaid. Finally. After 5 years.

I fiddled with my charm bracelet, nervous out of my mind. My parents glanced at one another worriedly, knowing, as far as their knowledge could, that it was a firm no and that I might storm out at anytime. I smiled reassuringly, seemingly brave, but dying inside.

Zaid sat in a secluded corner, and didn't even look up when I sat down. I gritted my teeth anxiously. Was I looking that ugly that he couldn't look up at me? Or was this a forced proposal?

"Assalamualaikum" I said.
"Was alaikumus salaam"
"...."
"....."

"Um can I ask you a few questions"

"Jee"

"I'm sure these are all positive but I wanted to ask them in any case. Is that okay?"

"Jee, but please don't make it too personal."

"Uhm.. So are you punctual with your Salaah?"

"Jee"

"And do you make it a habit to perform Salaah in Jamaat?"

"I do Imaamat sometimes, but jee, I do"

I smiled discreetly. That was something to look forward to.

"This question isn't meant to intimidate you but would you want me, I mean, your wife, to wear Niqab?"

"I wouldn't want to impose that on her no. But I would prefer if she did."

"Do you find it difficult to wake up for Fajr?"

"Umm no. Habit, I guess."

"Okay, I'm sure this question is negative, but have you had a girlfriend, or a girl that was more than just a friend before?"

"No, by the time I actually thought anything of girls I was already under the guidance of my Sheikh, Alhamdullilah."

I felt a stabbing knife in my heart. This may be a problem, considering my past. I couldn't tell him, never. It would remain a secret for as long as I lived.

"Umm do you have any questions?"

"Well, would you consider going into Niqab."

"Definitely, I intended to go into Niqab soon out of my own accord actually."

"And do you like kids."

"Duh, I mean Jee. I always wanted to be a teacher but I guess I found the anatomy of a child's brain more interesting than bossing children around and making them feel awkward," I rambled.

"So do you want to have a career?"

'That's a complicated topic since I have always been academically advantaged but I honestly don't mind being at home. At some stage I would, with childr..."

Conversation flowed easier now, but neither of us looked up at each other.

"Well, Husna, if you mind I'll give my consent, but I've always wanted to get married without seeing the girl, properly at least. If it's okay with you, can neither of us see each other, if anything happens."

"Jee I agree with that. It is something I'd want to do so I'm happy that we are on the same page."

My father coughed, indicating that our time was up. I groaned inwardly. I was enjoying this even though I was dying inside. More from total adoration than from nerves. OMA, my cheeks must have been scarlet red.

Zaid's father turned to me and spoke, "Husna, I'm sorry for taking up your time today, but I don't think this alliance will work out. While your Istikhaarah might be positive, the age gap is slightly too big and maybe this just isn't the right match. Maaf once again, but if you really do want to speak again, feel free."

My heart slipped through my intestines and landed on the floor, shattering into a million pieces. I was speechless.

"Don't worry. Husna is having a hard time and I don't think she is adjusting to the idea of marriage very well. Maybe she isn't ready. I'll give her time and In Sha Allah the right man will come along," my father replied.

Why?

Why me?

Ya Allah, I had prayed for him at Tahajjud, at midnight and at Fajr. Could my Taqdeer just not be such?