Him & His Muslimah

35

Zaib

"Did it ever occur to you, that your son would be this mature? It seems like yesterday when he lost his new sneakers from outside the masjid and cried about it for days," his uncle chuckled, speaking to Zaib's father while his eyes shined with pride as he looked over his nephew. Zaib had been so excited to wear his new sneakers everywhere that he had ignored his father's warnings and worn them even to the masjid. It didn't end very well for him.

Abdullah, his father, sipped his tea as he nodded with a contagious smile. "I'm so blessed to be seeing this day. When will our Khaled's big day arrive?" He remarked bringing Zaib's cousin Khaled into the conversation who sat on the dining table with Zaib, munching up his bowl of Cheerios.

"Nah uncle. The life of the married is one too despairing. I will soar to the sky with independence," he chimed and Zaib rolled his eyes at his cousin's distasteful analogy.

"My bro Zaib, you still have a chance. It's never too late—" Zaib stood irked by Khaled's constant stupidity and walked to the fridge to grab an apple. He liked his uncle very much but his son was another story.

"Zaib, quick your tuxedo's here!" His mother pulled him out of the living room.

And there began his big day. The day he found himself wishing to come as earliest as possible. Zoya was going to be his wife which meant, Allah had officially written her to accompany his fate. He was to have her enhance his world and dwell him in unconditional love. He found himself smiling wide as he took a shower and dressed into his navy tuxedo.

He had barely had a wink of sleep yesterday realizing she was going to live with him as his wife tomorrow. His chest felt light but his head felt hot with frenzy. He would be able to see her first thing in the morning and last thing at night. His life would be filled with her. And he couldn't ask for more.

The nikah was to take place in the local Masjid where Zaib had helped with renovations. Both of them believed that masjid to be a start of something new in their relationship and had mutually decided upon their marriage taking place with the sweet kids of the town. The guest list was also very brief, with a few relatives and close friends. Zoya urged for the wedding to be simple and cost-efficient and he garnered immense respect for this act.

After all, it was the Prophet Muhammad (S) who didn't demand any extravagance for his daughter, Fathima (R)'s marriage and wedded her very modestly. It was only fair Prophet's ummah followed his footsteps. Society's expectations were never to be fulfilled. It was always only Allah worthy of impressing and satisfying.

While Zaib fixed his black hair, the door flung open and in waddled Ehsan with the largest, crooked smile on his face. "Looks like someone's about to be the happiest man in an hour's time!" He beamed and Zaib bit his lip holding off a faint smile.

"You know it's not too late. I should warn Naimat about you." Zaib stares back irritatedly, growling. "Are you even my friend!" Ehsan threw himself into the bed while laughing his head off. Zaib turned to face him, and narrowly eyed his disappointment of a friend.

"You look sorta okay in the tuxedo but what the hell did you do to your hair?" Ehsan called him out only to earn a punch right on his head.

"Combed. What else?" Zaib stared blankly. Ehsan sighed. "It's simple. At least spike it up a little—" "What am I, a ten-year-old going to a pool party? Can you shut up! No one wants your stupid suggestions," Zaib hollered, aggravated at the atmosphere around him which only made Ehsan laugh harder.

"Okay, I'm kidding. You look good."

Zaib playfully rolled his eyes and focused back onto the mirror. He grabbed the ancient watch, one that his great grandfather had gifted to him and pulled it on his wrist. He loved this watch more than any other accessory ever and he wanted to wear it on such a ceremonious day.