A Match Made In Jannah

Chapter 56

MAARIAH'S POV

I leaned towards Nabeel and pressed my mouth against his ear. His soft brown hair tickled my lips as I whispered his name into his ear. I grabbed his hand and placed it on my belly.

"You feel that, Nabeel? Can you feel the baby move?" I hadn't felt it move myself, but I needed to convince him in whatever way I could.

Hesitation flickered across his eyes. He looked at Husna. She was clearly still in love with Nabeel, no matter how much he had hurt her. Nabeel withdrew his hand from my belly and inhaled heavily.

"I want Husna. I do. There's nothing now that would stop me from asking for her to forgive me, except for the child that Maariah has in her belly. I wouldn't sacrifice a loyal, beautiful girl like Husna if it wasn't a matter of dignity. I can't let the child that Maariah carries grow up without a father. It wouldn't be fair to the child. It was my mistake and Maariah's mistake, which is why I have to live with the consequences," Nabeel said.

Nabeel turned to face Husna completely and squeezed her hand. The lines on his face furrowed and I could see the tears of "one, last time" well in his eyes.

"You deserve so much better. You'll get it, I promise you. May Allah make your every wish and desire come true," he said to her.

I knew Husna better than he did, or anyone else. Her only wish would have been Nabeel now.

I pushed the thought of Husna out of my mind and focused on the present. Nabeel had chosen me. Me! My heartbeat quickened as I imagined a future with the love of my life. Scenes began to whizz through my mind like a beautiful kaleidoscope of hope. I became so engrossed in my vivid daydreams that I failed to hear my father's response to Nabeel, or Husna's.

The sound of Husna sobbing was what brought me back to reality. Her mother clutched onto her tightly, as if she was afraid that any moment now, her daughter would shatter into tiny fragments and leave her to pick up the broken pieces.

"I'm sorry Husna," Nabeel whispered. I could feel the pain that weighed down upon his shoulders and it took all the restraint that I could muster to abstain from throwing my arms around his muscular frame and telling him that it is okay.

It is okay
It. Is. Okay

If it really is okay; if this moment is the one that I have always dreamed of, why does it feel so terrible?

Why is the happiest day of my life, after the wedding that is to come, filled with misery and trepidation.

I'm ecstatic that I will have Nabeel now, but the joy I thought I'd feel swelled inside of me when he proposed, if you could say that, yet it dissipated as quickly as it had come.

The most joyful day of my life would now be etched in my mind along with sullen faces and a deflated sense of hope.

I just prayed that Nabeel did not feel that way.