"It's your Baba's turn today." Zaib's mother said as she stared at her husband with mischievous, upturned lips. Zaib stared at his father with a pitiful expression. Zain and Zayna, who were sat at the couch, laughed.

"Aw man! Ayesh, Now I'm just assuming you keep lying to me! I swear it was my turn like yesterday," Abdullah grumbled.

She laughed at his childish behavior. "Nope, it was my turn yesterday. Come on, make me some good breakfast, habibi!"

Zaib couldn't help it. He joined Zain and Zayna, laughing at their complaining father. Abdullah Khan rolled his hazel eyes at the very 'supportive' children of his and stomped off to the kitchen. With a smile on his face, Zaib stared at the lit television screen. His mother was re-watching all the episodes of the T.V show: Friends. It was nothing but misery.

"Dad, make the toast crispy with butter!"

"And the egg yolk half cooked!"

"Dad, please make me a French toast!"

"Habibi, make my tea sugar free!"

"Tea and crispy toast for me Baba!"

Ayesha and the sly children of hers giggled hysterically. Zaib chuckled, throwing a high-five his mother's way. The man of the house cooked in the kitchen and without a doubt: Abdullah Khan was a remarkable chef.

The family ate, laughing and throwing in puns altogether. Zaib smiled at his jovial family, muttering an Alhamdulillah under his breath. He prayed for his family to always be happy and healthy. The only person missing was that one woman who would complete his world and the half of his deen. He wanted a woman who'd laugh with him, and make him the happiest man alive just by being there, loving him unconditionally. Zaib felt a smile elevate his lips as he thought of a partner accompanying him in his journey to Jannah.

Zaib was finishing his French toast when suddenly his phone began to vibrate frenziedly in the pocket of his jeans. He clutched the phone, clamming it out, and his smile dropped as the caller ID read: Ehsan.

Zaib was supposed to meet him at his house and go with him for another proposal. With a regretful frown, Zaib answered the call.

"As' salamu alaykum-"

"Where are you Zaib!"

"Greetings to you too, Ehsan." The sarcasm was audible in his tone as he rolled his eyes.

"I don't care, dude. Get here as fast as you can. My palms are sweating, armpits and-"

"Ew, too much information bro! I'll be there. Just get rid of the sweat because there's nothing I can do bout it," Zaib advised, lurching out of the couch as he ended the call, receiving curious glances from his family. Zaib didn't explain much as he quickly shoved his monochrome converse on, then pulled on his grey hoodie.

"I'm leaving. Ehsan needs me. As' salamu alaykum." Zaib kissed his parent's forehead, then proceeded to kiss Zayna's.

"What bout you?" Zaib smirked slyly.

"You can get a punch."

"Nah, I'm good."

Zaib chuckled before sauntering out of the living room towards the exit of the house. Zaib's father retired after working for the army and now received monthly pensions as well as military discounts; however, Zaib was brutally independent. He always considered his father's pension and discounts to be his own hard work, and no one deserved a penny but his great father himself. Allah (s.w.t) blessed Zaib enough stability to build the house they shared memories in, pay the electricity and fuel bills and fulfill all his family's needs, Alhamdulillah.

As Zaib exited the house, his eyes ran along the indigo freshly painted walls. The interior was designed by Zaib himself, and he thanked Allah for bringing the opportunity his way. No one was supposed to spend their earnings on his family, even his own father, other than Zaib.

He ambled off to the black mustang, hopping into the driver's seat, not neglecting to fasten the seatbelt. He considered drivers who didn't follow those rules: illiterates. Why did they take risks by not wearing their seatbelt? Those minor elements really annoyed Zaib. If a human was capable of trying to protect themselves, why shouldn't they? The rest should be left to Allah (s.w.t) and his doings.

As Zaib drove away, he noticed the sky finally clear and rainless. He really didn't want to be there at the meeting; he found it unnecessary, but since Ehsan was so persistent and stubborn, Zaib couldn't decline.

Zaib hoped for the best this time.

Ehsan was already pacing outside on the damp driveway when Zaib arrived at the villa. Ehsan generally looked extremely nervous and exhausted. Ehsan headed towards him as he descended from the parked car.

"You're late." The bitterness is his words alarmed Zaib.

"I'm sorry. Calm down. Everything's going to be fine, Ehsan." Zaib tried helping his best friend, he really did, but Ehsan legitimately looked like he was going to have a panic attack.

"Nothing's going to be fine! I'm sweating all over, I can barely talk because my mouth is as dry as the Sahara desert and-"

"Ehsan!"

Zaib hated Ehsan's need to be insecure and so devastated. The constant rejections really affected Ehsan horribly, and Zaib loathed it.

"Ehsan, sit down." Ehsan sighed walking towards the green lawn. The men sat down on the shaggy grass. Zaib sighed, noticing Ehsan's upset features.

"Ehsan, do you trust Allah?"

"More than anything."

"Then what is bothering you? You are a man who fears Allah, trusts Allah, loves Allah, why are you so nervous? Till now, whatever has happened, happened for a reason, and if this house we're going to, will also reject, it will be for your own good. Allah loves you. Trust him some more, Ehsan. Trust his doings."

The crinkled forehead wasn't crinkly anymore. Ehsan smiled what seemed like a genuine smile, and Zaib couldn't be any happier.

"Jazak Allah Khair, Zaib. Really man, for being here and constantly reminding me of Allah. I need that," Ehsan thanked as they shared a bro hug.

"Wa Antum fa Jazakumullahu khayran."

-|-|-|-|-|-

"As salamu alaykum," Ehsan greeted. Zaib could already see the change in him after the little talk they had. He was no longer stuttering or even sweating, all thanks to Allah (s.w.t).

"Wa alaykumu salam," The crowd greeted back. Ehsan's family, along with Zaib, entered the massive bungalow.

From inside, the bungalow seemed more vast. The walls were painted nut-brown, fabric sofas aligned, harmonizing in color with the walls, an antiquated arm-chair resting next to the television stand on which laid a large T.V screen. It took Zaib a moment to register the fact that the place they entered was just the sitting room. Just the sitting room.

Zaib's eyes narrowed, noticing a very, very, very familiar face in the unknown crowd.

"Bilal!" Zaib was overjoyed and filled with excitement. Seeing their best friend after a couple of years would do that to anyone! Zaib was shocked and unbelievably happy.

"Zaib, Ehsan! Allahuakbar!" Bilal excitedly pulled them both into a tight embrace. Zaib patted his back, an old habit, pulling away with one of the most brightest smiles ever visible on his face.

"What are you doing here!" Ehsan exclaimed, his face priceless as he gawked at their old college buddy. The three men used to hang out all the time. Eventually, Bilal separated from the group when they began their careers.

"It's my sister's best friend's proposal. I just came to drop her off as she wanted to be here to give moral support," mentioned Bilal.

"Woah, what a coincidence," Zaib mumbled thoughtfully. He was here to support his best friend and she was here to accompany hers'. The sudden turn of events was incredible.

"Now that you're here, stay."

"Yeah, we could be meeting Ehsan's future wife right now," Zaib teased while Ehsan shrugged.

"Naimat and Ehsan! Oh wow! I don't know much about her though. She visits us frequently. All I've gathered is that she's crazy loud when my sister and her both squeal over random obsessions," Bilal informed. "Zoya and her have a very close relationship," Bilal added.

"Naimat..." Ehsan seemed to be in a world of his own as he repeated his potential wife's name. Zaib looked at him rather weirdly.

"As' salamu alaykum, I am Farooq, and this is my lovely wife, Raheela." A middle aged man with a beard, wearing a colorless thobe emerged from inside what seemed like his room along with his wife in an abaya. A soft smile enlightened Zaib's face. The fact that the man called his wife 'lovely' publicly was surprising and amazing altogether. Men rarely displayed affection towards their wives.

"Wa' alaykumu salam, brother Farooq. I am Ehsan's father, Harris, and this is my wife: Amina," Ehsan's father greeted as the family settled down on the large sofas.

Bilal, Ehsan and Zaib were sat on the very end of the couch, shyly greeting the parents.

"Naimat, please bring the tea."

Zaib quickly lowered his head, staring at the blank ground. He heard footsteps roar towards the room and clink, the tray was placed on the mini table beside the sofas. Ehsan slightly nudged Zaib's shoulder with his, then whispered to him.

"What does she look like?"

With widened eyes, Zaib turned, staring at his friend as if he had grown two heads and that too without any eyes.

"Are you serious? I'm not going to look at her, you fool!" Zaib whisper-shouted. He couldn't believe Ehsan.

"Please!"

"Ehsan, I am not going to do that."

"Bilal, you've seen her, right? What does she look like?" Ehsan began bugging Bilal. Zaib resisted the urge to punch Ehsan in the gut and the mouth, breaking all his teeth for doing this.

"I haven't seen her properly. I've only seen the top of her different colors of Hijab, and I won't look now, you idiot!" Zaib brought his hand to his face, slamming it against the skin in silent horror. Ehsan had gone all loon, hadn't he?

Ehsan's groan was audible to Zaib and Ehsan only.

"As' salamu alaykum," a female said. Everyone's response coursed throughout the living room. "This is my daughter Naimat and her childhood friend Zoya," Zaib heard her father say. Zoya, she was Bilal's sister.

"Naimat dear, come here," Ehsan's mother spoke. The men were still awkwardly staring at the floor. Naimat must've sat beside Ehsan's mother when she spoke up again, "Are you studying, dear?"

"Yes auntie, I am going to finish uni soon, then I want to work as a teacher, In Sha Allah." Zaib turned to look at Ehsan who wore a dreamy smile on his face. Zaib wanted to laugh so bad, but he restrained.

"Masha Allah, dear. That's great! Though my son is an architect and he earns really well. Would you still want to work?"

"Yes auntie, I would still like to work. Teaching is a dream of mine. Is Ehsan okay with that?"

Ehsan finally looked up and spoke, "There's no problem. You can work if you want."

"Ehsan, do you have questions for her?"

"Uh yeah... why do you want to marry?" Ehsan was doing good, Alhamdulillah.

"I want to marry because I know I'm ready for it. I want a family: my own family." Her answer was short and very straightforward.

"What do you look for in a husband?" Zaib eyed Ehsan cautiously; he was still stable.

Good.

"Character, morality and religiousness. Obviously, everyone has faults since only Allah is perfect, but I want someone who addresses those flaws and is real with me. If we do take this further, I don't want your wealth, I only want the love and respect Allah describes in the Quran from a man to his wife and Insha Allah, I'll try my best to provide the same."

Ehsan wore an impressed smile on his lips.

"Any more questions?"

"No. That's all."

"Does Naimat have questions for Ehsan?"

"Yes, uh... How often do you pray tahajjud?" Zaib stared at Ehsan awaiting his answer.

"Everyday, Alhamdulillah."–Whew, score!

"What do you expect from your wife?"

"I want nothing but love, respect and passion for religion. Someone understanding and just easy to get along. Beauty will only be an addition to the gift." -and score! Zaib was so relived. Ehsan was surprisingly answering smartly, without stuttering or sweating.

Zaib was-without a doubt-very proud.

"Uh... Why haven't you kept a beard?" Sco- Oh no. Zaib's smile flattened at the question. He saw it coming, and he really hoped Ehsan won't lie. After all, honesty was the best policy, right?

"I-uh-um- Well, I did have a beard but when we went for some proposals, I was rejected because of it many times. I gave into the worldly pleasure and shaved it off. I regret it everyday because it's our beloved prophet's sunnah. I really wish I hadn't."

Alhamdulillah, Ehsan didn't lie.

"Jazak Allah Khair for being honest." Zaib desperately hoped Naimat wouldn't reject Ehsan due to his foolishness of shaving the beard. After all, Allah was the most forgiving.

"Baba, I don't have any more questions."

"Okay dear, take the tray away. Zoya, help her."

Zaib and Bilal finally looked up. Ehsan's mother seemed quite impressed just like Ehsan, who seemed more than just impressed.

"You did well, good job solider," Zaib muttered. Ehsan appeared in a daze of his own, a wide grin lightening his entire face up. "I already like her a lot. She's different. I hope she considers this, In Sha Allah." Zaib smiled.

"In Sha Allah."

Zaib then asked for the washroom and once Naimat's father directed him towards it, he sprang up, heading out of the congested room.

As he passed the kitchen, he heard a sweet-melodic voice, which weirdly sounded familiar.

"Naim, Allah is Al-Ghafur. Ehsan only gave into a temptation or maybe an insecurity. Don't judge him based on that. He regrets it, and I could hear the sadness in his words. Don't reject him and mislead him all over again. He's sincere, Naim."

Allahuakbar!

Zaib stood frigid, surprised by the words. They were filled with pure wisdom, knowledge and guidance. That had to be Zoya: Naimat's best friend and Bilal's sister. Zaib broke into an unconscious smile. She was so humble with her words, Masha Allah. The man who'd have Zoya as his wife was going to be someone very special and lucky.

Then it dawned on him; he was listening to a conversation he wasn't supposed to, so Zaib quickly ambled away to the washroom though Zoya's words remained stuck to his brain like superglue.

Expression used to convey joy and thankfulness. A word you use also after saying or thinking good about someone else.

And you too, may Allah reward you with goodness.

The Forgiving