A Muslim's Romantic Journey

Chapter 2.

Yusuf's POV

The scent of the food made my stomach grumble. I was patiently waiting for someone to ask me to start eating. No one had touched the food yet.

"Hamzooo." Came a female's voice from the door. Hamza didn't hear her. He was looking down at his phone. I was about to tell him someone was calling him when a girl walked into the room. Immediately I looked down. She began speaking to my mum while I wondered about why my mum asked me to drive her here and not Javed, my brother. She usually asked him to drive her everywhere. I didn't mind her asking me. In fact, I was flattered. My ankle was beginning to hurt again. I was afraid this would happen. Maybe this was the reason my mum never asked me to take her anywhere. My thoughts were interrupted by the mention of the uni this girl went to. That was fantastic! People from all over Europe moved to London just to study there.

"What do you study?" My mother asked.

"Islamic Studies combined with Arabic." Masha'allah. (God has willed it. - Said as a compliment) This girl was smart. She was so polite and respectful in the way she spoke. I hadn't seen her yet, but it was beginning to get hard not to look at her. I decided to let the pain of my ankle distract me. As I heard her leave the room, I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Start pouring some food. We have to eat before Asr." Hamza told me. I mentally cheered as I filled my plate. It was all so amazing.

"So you said earlier that you did an Alim course." (An Islamic course) I nodded a yes. "So what are you planning on doing with that?" The same question again.

"Go Jannah in'sha'allah." (If Allah wills) I replied. Hamza smiled.

"I mean in this world."

"Becoming a plumber in'sha'allah." I didn't like talking about this. I could feel most people were judging me because I didn't have a degree and wasn't planning on getting one. But Hamza just seemed to be curious.

"That's really good masha'allah." Yeah, he was a good guy. I checked my phone after I finished eating.

"We better get going." I told Hamza.

"We still have 15 minutes. Have dessert." I scanned the table. There wasn't any dessert. "Zayna! Bring the dessert so we can go." A girl came in with a delicious looking cake. I was sure that wasn't the smart girl. She looked too young to be studying in uni. 16 I was guessing. She went back and brought some clean plates and custard. Oh how I loved drowning cake in custard. I really liked this family. They were noisy, but I liked them. The doorbell rang and I heard someone yell 'Safia! It's Hafsa!' followed by 'HAFSA!' and 'SAFIA!' I was sure then that smart girl's name was Safia. It sounded like her voice. I then dismissed the thought of her. I finished the last bit of the cake, savouring it.

"Shall we go now?" I asked Hamza. We got up getting ready to leave. Just then, another man came into the room.

"This is my Uncle Yahya. Uncle, this is Yusuf." We said salaam to each other. I wouldn't have guessed this man was their uncle. He looked quite young, in his mid thirties I'd say.

"Going masjid?" (mosque) He asked. Hamza nodded. "Good. I was just coming to call you." On the way to masjid we all began speaking about football (Soccer). They seemed pleased that I supported the same team as them. It was a little awkward at first but by the time we reached the masjid, we were really good friends. We finished praying Salaah and walked outside. For some odd reason, Safia was still at the back of my head. I wanted to know more about her. Uncle Yahya was looking around for someone. "Have you seen Abubakar?" Uncle asked Hamza.

"No, why?"

"I'll tell you later. You know, I might actually go to his house."

"Abubakar's? That skinny guy with rich parents?" Uncle looked disappointed with Hamza'a description of him.