3. The Suitor

Suhad

The doorbell rang and I gulped.

I wasn't ready. No. I can't do this. Please go back. I am sitting here all alone. There's no one to support me. Ya Allah, help me.

"Suhad! Get the door, it must be Haroon!" Mom yelled from her room.

I breathed a sigh of relief. What was I thinking there's no support? Mom was here and so was bhai, dad was at work or he would have been here too. And of course, there's Allah.

I quickly apologized to Allah for being negative and thanked Him for being there for me as I went to open the door.

As soon as bhai said salam I dragged him to the dining room. I turned to face him the moment we reached and my face said let's get down to business.

"You know what to do right?" I asked.

"About what?" He asked dumbfounded.

"Oh come on bhai! Don't act dumb. You know who's coming today. And mom is all ecstatic about it and all and I'm a nervous wreck. Help me here, would you?"

He chuckled. "Of course I know choti. And I will help you in sha Allah."

"Don't call me choti. I'm not choti anymore!" I fumed. He always called me that and it annoyed me a lot.

"Choti! Choti! Choti! Choti!" He started chanting on purpose.

Ugh! I took a deep breath to calm myself. It would be really silly to fight over this. "Whatever," I said in dismissal. "You remember what you're gonna ask him?"

"Yep."

"You will take a good look at him for me?"

"Yep."

"You will observe him as a detective?"

"Gladly."

I smiled. I had the best brother, Alhamdulillah. He was always so supportive of me and we were like best friends. I didn't even have any other friends besides him. "Thank you bhai," I said.

"Mention not, choti!" He said and started to laugh. I let it slide, if I got angry it would be evident on my face and all the efforts I had put to beautify my face would go down the gutter.

It was true. When I was happy or stayed positive or feeling any kind of positive energy it would show on my face, it glowed, literally. And when I was sad or surrounded by negativity or even got angry my face would darken and one could spot the difference easily. So I wanted to stay as positive as possible today. Because as they say first impression is the last impression.

Just then the doorbell rang, again. Looking at my panic-stricken face, bhai said, "Calm down. It might be Uncle Junaid with his family."

And it truly was uncle Junaid with his wife Safia and their two sons, Farooq and Fawad. I visibly relaxed and started chatting with everyone. Mom joined in a few minutes later. She was gushing about the boy who was coming and in her mind might even be the guest-of-honor, the way she was talking about him.

When the bell rang again, we all knew who it was and everyone became silent at once. Haroon bhai went to get the door and everyone went in the living room. Everyone but me. I stayed behind in the dining room. I was supposed to go when called.

I waited, wringing my hands nervously, supplicating all that I knew, until I was called. Mom came in to take me to the living room. I went outside with my eyes downcast and sat where I was told to. I felt a presence beside me, on the armrest of the armchair I was sitting in. Bhai. I smiled.

I didn't lookup. Lowering your gaze was a sign of respect. From my lowly gaze, all I could see were the feet of the people that came. I could say two were female and one was male because there were two pair of legs out of which one was wearing heels and the other pair was hidden under the abaya. And obviously, men don't wear abaya. The third pair was wearing boots which were not girly so I knew he must be my suitor.

"Assalamu Alaikum, dear." It was an elderly voice that had a sort of motherly-ness to it.

"Wa alaikum assalam." I replied meekly.

"What's your name, dear?"

The name again! I just didn't understand why this was always the question. Even though they already know everything about me they just have to come and ask the same question as if hearing from me, they would find it different. "Suhad," I said.

"Mashallah! That's a nice name. How old are you?"

Very old. So old that I could be your mom. Can't you see the gray hairs popping out my nose? I sighed. I really got irritated by such absurd questions. Why ask when you know the answer? I answered her. And then she continued with her questions asking my height and if I knew to cook and I answered her every question obediently. These were the common questions that are asked by the family of every suitor.

"What are your hobbies?"

A smooth male voice--probably and obviously of my suitor-- asked me. Hearing his voice spiked my heart rate. Not from fear, but then from what I didn't understand. It couldn't be attraction since I neither knew the guy nor had I seen him. Maybe it was just because I heard him for the first time.

"She loves football," Bhai answered for me and I was grateful for it.

"Really? Which club do you support?" He asked me. But bhai answered for him. The Q & A session went on for quite a while until I thought it was never going to end and I started feeling like this was my viva-voce examination or something.

Safia aunty, thankfully, came in with the dessert I had prepared and she announced that to the whole room proudly. I could hear it in her voice. I smiled. Everyone was concentrating on eating, and no one was talking. This meant they were loving my dish. I felt happy.

Mom signaled me to go to my room. I said salaam and quietly went to my room. I took off my hijab, changed into my pajamas, and slumped on the bed taking out my mobile to continue reading the story on Wattpad.

A few minutes later bhai came into my room, which meant the guests were gone.

"How was he?"

"What do you think?"

We both asked at the same time.

"He was okay I guess," Bhai answered first. "He had a French beard, was wearing jeans and a button-up shirt. He had thick jet black hair. Lean and tall. Fashionista, I think."

I chuckled at his last statement. "Bhai, you don't call a man 'fashionista'."

"But he seemed like one."

"I liked his voice though," I said imagining his beautiful voice and feeling my heart rate spike again.

"You like him then?" Bhai asked concerned.

Why was he worried? "I don't know about him as a person bhai, so how could I like him? I said I liked his voice."

"Good. Because I don't think you should say yes."

What! "Why not?"

"Because I found him to be arrogant and full of himself. You told me to scrutinize him and I did. And as your brother, this is my opinion about him."

Huh? But mom is so happy with that family. And they are related too, although distantly, which is comforting. I don't know what to do. I will wait for their response and then decide.

"What was his name by the way?" Weird, right? I didn't even know the guy's name.

"Shadab."

Shadab. Suhad. Shadab and Suhad. Suhad and Shadab. Suhad. Shadab. Mrs. Shadab. O my Allah! I was joining my name to his already. So embarrassing.

"Suhad!"

It was an out-of-breath mother.

"What happened, mom? Everything alright?"

"Oh yes yes yes. Everything is so much better now. Alhamdulillah." She was smiling even though she was panting as she had run to my room.

"Then what is it?"

"Oh, honey! They like you! They said yes!"

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This is by far the longest chapter I have written.

What do you guys think? Do you think I should add something more or was it fine?

Do tell me, please. I need your reviews to create a better story.

By the way, how do you like Suhad and Shadab?

Jazakallah khair:)