A Muslimah's Story {EDITING}

Chapter 3

Pic of Asma

...
Asma's POV

Our families, Iqra's and mine, have decided Iqra will get married later on, because I have decided first and I will get married first. Personally, I am so excited and giddy, because today a proposal was coming.

I woke up with a sore body and messy black hair. My hazel eyes were droopy like always. I take a long and refreshing shower, as my hair softens and I pat dry it. I change into plain sweats and a abaya with a tshirt underneath because I need to pray Fajr. I also read Quran, Surah Kayf, every Friday.

   After praying, I feel so peaceful as I do my dua and read my surahs.

I go downstairs and sit at the table and cook omelet and toast with my mom.

"You  have to be looking your best and have to be on good behaviour, understood? And I want you to serve the cookies and tea, because that's how the girls are supposed to do it. Alright? First the biryani and then the tea. And you should wear that pretty maxi teal dress, okay?" Ma orders.

"Okay." I reply. I know what to do. I have to behave. I feel childish and giddy, but I know it won't be as easy as I'm thinking.

...

"Uh! Pull it on, Zara!" I tell my niece. She shakes her head. She's 6 years old, and I love her to death. But sometimes you gotta be a bit harsh.

"Please honey? For mee?" I slur. She sighs, which looks so funny! She harshly smoothed out her hair from her eyes, and pouts.

"Okay. But I want nail polish... Please?" She pleads, her glassy eyes big and pleading.

"Alright hon." I pull the pink dress over her head. It's not too fancy, and not to casual. I put sparkly polish on her hands. I brush her hair.

"There you go, princess is ready!" I tell her. She happily twirls around.

   I go to my room and pull on the teal maxi dress with matching tights and light brown bangles and light brown belt. Adding it with a light brown hijab I gotta say I look pretty modest.

"Aqsa, what will you wear?" I ask my sister in law (bhabi is another word for it), who comes into my room with a rapid knock and smile at my outfit.

Aqsa bhabis brown eyes look over to me as she walks to me, her hands wet. She wipes them on her  clothes and smiles at me.

"I think I will wear that purple casual gown? What do you say? With a matching blue hijab?" The image of the elegant yet casual enough dress pops into my mind, and I nod eagerly. I love that one.

"Awesome. That one is perfect. Do you know when they will arrive?" I pipe, trying not to sound too hopeful and desperate.

"Yes, in about 30 minutes, ma said." She replies, going back to washing the dishes, I believe, downstairs. I finish up my look and quickly bounce down the stairs, too.

"Alright." I say just as Zara strides in the kitchen and tugs on her moms clothes, aka Aqsa.

"I'm coming honey, just let me wash this last bowl," Aqsa replies shortly.

"Whose a little good girl? Come to papa. Don't disturb mommy." Saleem, my older brother says as he enters the kitchen with a smile. Zara steers herself towards him.

   Zara rushes toward him just as a scream comes from the other room. We rush to see ma on the welcome mat, with a two huge spiders running in through the front door.
  
    I gape at them and grab Zara as she gasps. Aqsa stays by us as Saleem grabs a shoe and pushes them out side before they get in any farther. He slams the door.

"Papa! Why didn't you kill them? They'll come back again!" Says little Zara.

"Astagfirallah, sweetie, it's a living thing that was just scurrying around. I can't do that." He smiles at Zara whom jumps into his arms. "And you guys are scaredy cats," He jokingly says.

We laugh.

"What's all the commotion?" Baba says, as ma laughs really hard while explaining it to him.

Sigh, I love my family.

...

   "They're here, they're here!" Chants Zara. I shush her and creep towards the stairs as I find the room filled with booming laughter and voices. One voice attracts me the most. It's beautiful. Deep, and humorous.

    I quietly creep back into my room. Mom said she'll call me. I make sure to leave a crack of the door open so I can hear when my call for duty comes.

"Yes, yes, of course, yes. Asma, honey?" She says to someone then softly calls my name. I bite my lip, sighing deeply and trying to massage the blush out of my cheeks.

"Yes ma?" I modestly walk down the stairs to meet the most beautiful chocolate pair of eyes looking at me in awe. I blush and look at his face before lowering my gaze. A beard, and ruffled hair. I tear away my gaze.

  It's him.

...

   I've realized his name is Zayn and he's a sweetheart, to be honest. He's really nice and everything due to my mother, and I'm anxious too. Yes or No?

Maybe?

I don't even know what to say, and it seems he's a decent guy, hopefully. We did some small talk, like about my university and about his job, along with some other things like movies and stuff. We didn't talk for so long; just a few minutes. But it was really nice, as in his deep raspy voice with my excited one.

   I hope I didn't sound too weird. Haha, I'm going psycho, I thought as I brushed my teeth and then jumped into bed, the laced sheets covering me.

   I check my iMessage, wattpad, and Instagram before moving onto my Twitter and tweeting a quick tweet and shutting my phone off. For now, Iqra isn't replying to my texts, but soon that little girl must.

I flutter my eyes close, exhausted.

...