"I think you should stop your volunteer work at the hospital."

As soon as Baba said those words, my spoon dropped to the plate. On the ride home from the hospital, Baba had been awfully quiet and I sensed some tension. Zaid had made it his duty to wait with me until Baba came to pick me up, since it was dark when our shifts were over and he wanted to make sure I was safe. But when I slipped into the front seat Baba had a slight frown between his thick eyebrows and I saw him eyeing Zaid suspiciously, even though Zaid was the least suspicious person I knew.

"Why?" I inquired, although I was sure I knew the answer to this.

"Because it has been interfering with your studies," Baba reasoned.

I frowned. That wasn't what I thought he would say. "I have plenty of time for my studies. My shifts haven't affected my performance at school, Baba, so don't worry about that."

Baba exchanged a look with Mama, who looked equally as concerned. My eyes flitted to Nasr, and even Zeinab, but they didn't seem to know what was going on, just innocently chewing their food. Mama made a pot of beans and we were eating it with pita bread and tabbouleh. I wished I could continue to enjoy the food too without worrying about what my parents were trying to tell me.

"You've been spending time with Zaid alone, Mariam, and you know very well that when a man and woman are alone together –"

"Shaytaan is the third company, yes, Immi, I know," I sighed, glancing down at my beans. "But wallahi, there is nothing –"

"We know you are a good, respectable girl, Mariam and as much as we trust you, we have to protect you from anything that could be haram," Baba interrupted. "And that definitely includes boys."

"But –"

"I know we've kept a blind eye for a while, but I think it's time you realize you are at an age where men can propose to you, and you need to keep yourself completely pure, and that means keeping yourself from being alone with a boy without our supervision," Baba continued.

"How about Theo?" Zeinab asked, butting in as usual.

"Theo doesn't count," Nasr chuckled.

"Actually, he does," I said tentatively. "But I'm not interested in him that way, nor will I ever be."

"We can trust you with Theo because you are with other people, so you are not alone with him," Mama said firmly. "But Zaid..."

I turned to Baba with pleading eyes. "Baba, you said you liked him. Just by looking at him, you said he seemed like a good guy. Why are you suddenly changing your mind?"

Baba shook his head. "No, Mariam, I am not changing my mind, I am making sure nothing happens between you two that shouldn't, especially when..."

"When what?" I urged.

"We want you to marry him," Mama finished.

If I had something in my mouth right then, I would've spat it out in shock. "What?!"

Zeinab giggled while Nasr just pinched his brows together, as if he wasn't sure what to make of this. My parents gazed at me with an intensity that made me feel...vulnerable.

"We spoke to his parents at the mosque and they agreed to the engagement," Baba explained. At the mention of engagement, my blood ran cold. "We decided the only way for you two to keep seeing each other was if you got married, and he comes from such a respectable family, and he would be good for you –"

"No," I shook my head, feeling overwhelmed. "I'm sorry, Baba, Mama, but I'm not ready. I can't do this."

I stood up from the table, my appetite out the window, and rushed to my room without another word, not knowing why my heart was beating so fast, and why I was shaking. For a girl who seemed so held together all the time, I sure was having a hard time keeping it together. Together. Me and Zaid – together. Never in a million years did I imagine Zaid as a potential husband. Just the thought of the word husband made my cheeks redden. I had no problem speaking to boys, playing soccer with them or joking with them, but spending the rest of my life with them in the same house, living together...as much as I loved the idea of having a man to call my own and love me and treat me the way I deserved, it also scared me. A lot.

Was that what I was feeling right now? Scared? I felt my eyes prickle with tears, wondering why they were appearing. I guess I was just so confused...all these emotions...I needed time to think.

"Mariam?"

It was Nasr who knocked on the door I was leaning on, and the sound of his voice soothed me, so I wiped the little bit of wetness from my eyes and let him in. Nasr's eyebrows shot up when he saw me, and I offered a small smile.

"I'm okay," I told him, because I knew that was what he was about to ask me, like all humans did when they sensed someone in need.

"I doubt it, Mims, come on," Nasr stepped forward, clamping a hand on my shoulder and peering at me with his brown eyes. "You can tell me anything, you know that, right? That's what big brothers are for, so don't be hesitant to tell me what you feel."

"That's the thing, Nasr, I don't know what I am feeling about this whole...situation," I sighed, ambling over to my bed. Nasr followed wordlessly, joining me on the mattress. "I never thought it would lead to this."

Nasr cocked an eyebrow. "Really? Because everyone else saw it coming."

"Nasr!" I punched him in the shoulder out of embarrassment, but when that passed, I narrowed my eyes. "What do you mean everyone else saw it coming? Who's everyone else?"

"Mama, Baba, Zeinab, Fatima, Yusuf, Yasmine..." Nasr counted off on his fingers. "Oh, and Zaid."

"Zaid? He knew about this engagement?" I couldn't believe this. During our time today at the hospital, after reading stories to sick children and cleaning up the playroom yet again, Zaid seemed just as he was any other day, joking and teasing. I admit, there were times I questioned whether sitting at the same table during our breaks was considered haram, or just talking to him at all was even halal. And each time I wondered about this, I'd push it out of my mind. It was harmless, after all. I was so comfortable around him I never thought further than friendship. But deep down, I knew it wasn't completely innocent. You could be the holiest person, but there was always Shaytaan, lurking about, making you feel things you didn't want to feel.

"I mean, he probably did know about it, but he might have also...suggested it," Nasr replied.

"Did you know?" I asked. I didn't think I could take it if my own brother didn't tell me about what was happening, but when he shook his head, I let out a breath of relief.

"I didn't know about the engagement, but I did notice other things..." a sly smile spread across Nasr's face, and I squinted at him.

"What other things?" I inquired suspiciously.

"Well, for one, you guys have a lot of chemistry," Nasr chuckled as my eyes widened and I slapped his arm, crying, "Astaghfurullah!"

"Well, it's true," Nasr smirked. "Especially when you were playing soccer at the masjid a couple of weeks ago."

I couldn't help it – I blushed. Not because I agreed with Nasr – astaghfurullah times a million! – but because I hated being the topic of anything vaguely "romantic." "Why does everyone have such a dirty mind? We don't have chemistry, we just get along well. I'm an easy-going person, and I treat everyone equally, boys and girls alike, so –"

"Do you accept the proposal or not?" Nasr interrupted, watching me with a glimmer of amusement.

"No! I mean, I don't know..." I trailed off, staring at my hands. "I'm not ready."

Nasr rumbled with laughter. "Oh, Mariam, you do know that you don't have to get married or engaged right now, don't you? You look as if you're about to face your death or something!"

"Maybe that would be better," I grumbled.

Nasr knocked his shoulder into mine. "Hey, don't say that. You should go back out and finish your dinner, and listen to what they have to say. They just want what's best for you as their daughter and as a Muslim woman."

"I'm not a woman," I mumbled with a chuckle.

"But you will be, soon," Nasr said in a lilting tone. "Once you've graduated, learned to drive, gone to uni..."

"Is that what makes me a woman? By doing all those things?" I asked amusingly.

"No, what makes you a woman is your level of maturity and piousness," Nasr said sensibly. "And to me, little sis, you're the most mature and pious girl I know."

"How many girls do you know, Nasr?" I teased, in which he elbowed me and muttered, "Shut up."

"Hey, that's no way to treat your mature and pious little sis," I chided jokingly, and Nasr rolled his eyes at me, smiling.

"Speaking of marriage, have Mama and Baba told you about...?" I watched Nasr's face carefully, and he furrowed his brow as I looked at him expectantly, seeing if there were any signs of recognition for what I was alluding to.

"About...?"

"About Yusuf!" I decided not to delve into the topic of Yasmine and Nasr, because maybe what I overheard that night over a month ago from Samia and Mama wasn't true, and I didn't want to worry Nasr, even though I really did want to put him on the spotlight just to see him squirm. Nasr had many girls pining after him, but due to his loyalty to his faith, he never pursued any of them, except for that one girl when he was eight and hopelessly in love...but he was only an innocent child then. Now that he was a man, he was keeping himself upright, which was one of the many qualities I respected about my brother. Though he had lots of attention from the ladies due to his looks I still failed to see, he didn't give in to the temptations.

"Yeah, Yusuf himself told me about it," Nasr answered. "Apparently the girl – Najma, I think her name was – is coming over with her parents this weekend for them to meet."

"I hope they get married," I grinned. "I love weddings."

Nasr shot me a cheeky smile. "If you love them so much you should have one yourself!"

Now it was my turn to elbow him in the ribs. "No thank you!"

"I'm just kidding, Mims," Nasr rolled his eyes. "Besides, if you're not ready, that's okay, there's no rush now, but I'm just saying, from the parentals' point of view, this is the best way to go about it if you want to keep seeing Zaid in a halal way."

"But why must I marry him just so I can see him? That sounds a bit extreme to me," I said, scrunching up my nose.

"Think of it this way: Zaid is a man, you are a woman – or girl, whatever you want to call yourself," Nasr added hastily when I gave him a look. "It's natural for a man and woman over time to develop feelings, especially when they spend a lot of time together and get along well. And," Nasr spoke over my rebuttals, since I was about to point out that I got along with Theo and spent time with him, but that was pointless, really, since Theo was Theo and he was just a school mate. So what was Zaid, then? A volunteer mate? A soccer buddy?

"Especially when it's so obvious they like each other," Nasr continued, causing me to burst out laughing.

"I don't like Zaid in that way! Ya Allah, Nasr, don't go saying things like that!" I cried defensively, still shaking with laughter. As nice and caring as Zaid was, I didn't have feelings for him. I had gotten so used to treating everyone equally that I considered boys just as the same as girls when I made friends, and just like I didn't develop feelings for my friends that are girls (astaghfurullah!) I didn't develop feelings for the boys.

"Say wallah," Nasr ordered.

I sighed. "Nasr, don't make me swear to Allah."

Nasr smirked. "So you have feelings for him, then?"

"What? No, no, absolutely not, Nasr! It's just, with things like saying wallah, I don't want to swear to Allah when I'm not a hundred percent sure," I explained.

"You know, the more you try to defend yourself, the more I'm starting to think you do like Zaid," Nasr teased.

"You're a strange brother, you know that? You almost sound happy about this!"

Nasr shrugged. "I mean, I wouldn't mind having Zaid as a brother-in-law. I've always wanted a brother, but instead I got two little sisters...Plus, he's a great soccer player."

"I'm a great soccer player, too," I objected.

"Not as good as Zaid," Nasr said.

"True, but still...you've got Alex, right? He's like a brother to you, isn't he?"

"But he's not Muslim," Nasr complained. "Can't you just accept the proposal and get it over with?"

"Wow, Nasr, and here I thought you were on my side," I scoffed, feeling offended.

"Your side is boring," Nasr moaned. "Now come on, I'm starving, and our dinner's probably cold now." He yanked my arm, dragging me out of my bedroom and back into the dining room, where Mama was clearing the table, mine and Nasr's plates still sitting there. Baba was in the living room, the TV murmuring in the background while Zeinab was in the bathroom. As soon as Mama saw me her eyes softened.

"Mariam, habibti, I'm sorry we scared you," she cooed, and Nasr sent me a look that said, I told you so. Wait, what did he tell me? Oh, that's right. My parents wanted what was best for me. But before that, they also wanted me to be happy.

"I just want to graduate first, Mama," I said as I slid in my seat, picking up my spoon and shovelling some tabbouleh. At least tabbouleh still tasted good cold, but the beans didn't, and Nasr offered to heat it up in the microwave along with his food as Mama stayed to wipe the table and talk to me.

"So does that mean you will marry Zaid Ali?" Mama inquired with a hopeful tone. I knew it was every Lebanese mother's dream for her daughter to get married, but a wedding seemed so far away right now, almost as far away as turning fifty, In Sha Allah. But of course, I was going to marry before I was fifty!

"I need more time to think about it," I said clearly. Mama appeared satisfied with my answer, as if I had said yes (that was the general intention of my words without actually saying the three letter word) and disappeared into the kitchen, Just as Nasr returned with my steaming plate of food.

"Mademoiselle," Nasr said in a horrible French accent as he set the plate before me. He had done French in high school but it had been six years since he learned it so he probably didn't remember anything other than Bonjour and Merci.

"Merci, mon frère," I smiled at him, but he just returned my words with a bemused expression.

"What?"

I sighed, palming my forehead. I guess he didn't even remember Merci either, which was just sad, really.

"Tu es très bête," I tutted, meaning, you are very stupid, shaking my head. And the best part was, Nasr didn't even know what I had said!

"Hey!" Nasr cried, and I widened my eyes.

"You understood that?" I asked incredulously.

"No, but it sounded like an insult," Nasr grumbled.

"You're right, it was, mon frère," I retorted.

Nasr frowned. "Did you just call me something bad?"

I laughed, tearing off some pita bread and mopping up the last bit of beans on my plate. "If being my brother is bad, then yes, I did."

Nasr rolled his eyes. "Inti majnoona." (You're crazy).

***

"Oh my Allah!"

"I know, right?" I sighed, flopping onto my bed with my phone pressed to my ear. Fatima was staying at Phillip Island for the holidays, since her family had a beach house there (lucky girl) and of course, my parents wouldn't let me go with her because they were that protective of me, even though they let me do volunteering shifts at a hospital by myself, but then again, a hospital was the safest place you could be if any harm came to you.

Now, I was telling Fatima everything that went down at dinner a couple hours later, because I really needed to vent to someone other than my family.

"You should totally accept the proposal! I know I would," Fatima said slyly.

"Of course you would, Fatima," I rolled my eyes. "You're boy starved!"

"I thought we agreed that that was a good thing!" Fatima cried.

"Well, it could be a good thing, but also a bad thing, since you don't even know how to act around them," I teased.

"I do, too! I'm not a complete awkward loser," Fatima protested. "Even though I feel like one most of the time..."

"Aw, don't say that, Fatima, you're not a loser," I chided. "You're just awkward."

"Hey!" Fatima cried but she was laughing, and so was I. Most of our conversations were on the phone, and listening to her laugh through the speaker was as if she were right there beside me, instead of a two hour drive away.

"Anyway, I told my parents I would think about it but really I'm just giving them false hope," I continued after sobering up. "I'm just not ready, you know? I don't feel like it's the right time."

"Well, In Sha Allah, there will come a time when you are ready," Fatima said. "And when that time comes, I will be right beside you as your bridesmaid, helping you get ready."

For some reason my eyes welled up with tears as I pictured my wedding day, surrounded by all the people I loved, saying goodbye to their baby girl who would then be a wife. "Aw, Fatima, you've made me all emotional!" I accused, laughing.

"Maybe your period's coming," Fatima joked.

I groaned. "Ugh, I really hope it doesn't come when school starts. The first couple of days are agony."

"Tell me about it," Fatima muttered. "But seriously, I can't wait until one of us gets married. I wonder who will get married first..."

"Out of you, me, Yasmine and Zeinab, I can bet that Yasmine will be first," I chuckled.

"Why Yasmine?" Fatima asked. "Has she already got her eyes set on someone?"

Though it was meant as a joke, I wondered if Fatima knew something about what Samia and Mama were discussing, but then I realized I was being ridiculous. Fatima wasn't there that night! She had no idea!

"Not exactly..." I began. "Her parents have sort of already decided on someone for her after she graduates."