Damian's POV

"So...you wanna marry my daughter?"

"Yes, sir."

I didn't think there was ever a time in my entire life that I was more nervous. Especially when Mariam's parents were discussing in Arabic with serious expressions as I sat on the sofa, waiting. At least my parents were with me, sitting on either side with cups of tea, but that didn't do anything to lessen the anxiety I was feeling inside. I was never someone who got nervous easily, but as my eyes flitted across to Mariam, who sat in the armchair, clasping her hands and looking down, I remembered the reason why I was here. And it made me feel stronger.

"Mariam," at the sound of her father's voice, Mariam looked up abruptly, brown eyes meeting mine briefly before gliding over to her parents, who both had unreadable expressions. "Meet me in the kitchen." He stood up and left the room suddenly, followed by Mariam, who took one last glance at me before disappearing. This left us with her mother, who seemed like the warmest and most welcoming person compared to Mariam's dad. I mean, I had heard about how strict he was, but I didn't realize he could be this strict. I both feared and respected him. Mainly because he had a great beard.

"How is everything?" Mariam's mum, I think her name was Zahra or something, asked my mum with a genuine concerned look on her face, the same look many people had given Mum many times before. I could see where Mariam got most of her features from by looking at her mother, and it almost gave me an idea of what Mariam would look like in twenty five years.

"Alhamdulillah, everything is great," Mum replied cheerfully as usual. "I can only thank Allah for giving me extra time on this Earth to be with my family."

"Yes, alhamdulillah," Zahra beamed at my mother, before her gaze turned to me. "And you take care of your mother, don't you?"

I nodded. "Of course. After all, Jannah is at the feet of the mother, right?"

Mariam's mother laughed, impressed by my answer. "Certainly. You know so much, Masha'Allah."

"Your daughter taught me well," I grinned.

"Mariam sure has a talent of persuading people," Mum contributed. "Did she get that from you?"

"Oh, I wish. I think that's more of my husband's strength, actually," Zahra replied.

I noticed my father was quiet beside me, but he didn't seem tense. In fact, he seemed pretty relaxed. I still couldn't believe he let me do this. He had been against it for the first few days, but after my mum convinced him, saying that this marriage would benefit me more than make a problem, he relented.

My parents made small talk with Mariam's mum, but the entire time I felt uneasy, waiting for Mariam and her father to return from the kitchen. I wondered what they were talking about...

***

Mariam's POV

"I must say I'm impressed."

When Baba dragged me away to the kitchen, I knew it was to have a serious talk about this whole thing, but I really didn't expect him to say that. "Impressed?"

"Yes, very impressed. That boy came here to ask my permission to marry you, and I gotta admire his courage," Baba had his arms folded and eyebrows raised, leaning against the kitchen bench. I interlaced my hands in front of me, still feeling a little giddy. I couldn't believe it. My heart fluttered every time I replayed the image of Damian standing there, asking my father for me. Was this really happening?

"However," as soon as Baba said that, I glanced up, and his face was grave. "I brought you here to have a personal chat about your...feelings." He paused, then delivered the big question. "Do you want to marry that boy, Mariam?"

I froze. This was it. The moment of truth. But for some reason, I hesitated.

How hard was it to say yes? Just say yes!

As usual my mind had more courage than I did.

I had been in this position before with Zaid, when I was forced to make a decision on whether to accept or reject the proposal. I recalled that night my parents broke the news to me with a shudder. I had still been in high school, and I was so young and naïve. Zaid and I used to be good friends, until he became annoying. Damian and I were also friends, but instead of becoming more annoying, he became less annoying.

But this proposal was completely different to the last one, because instead of the parents choosing who we should marry before we did, Damian chose me. And he was direct about it.

"Mariam, I understand it must be difficult for you to make this decision, but you have to remember something very important," Baba went on, a hand on my shoulder and eyes peering into mine with the wisdom only a father could possess. "Damian's mother is sick. And Damian's father isn't a Muslim."

"Yet," I added hastily. "Who knows? Maybe he'll convert."

Baba's lips formed a thin line. "I am aware of that possibility, but right now, it isn't a convenient time to get married, habibti. When Damian's mum passes..." Baba sighed. "The boy won't be in a fit state to be your husband while he's grieving. It's not –"

"Baba, I can take care of him," I interrupted ardently, my emotions brimming at the surface. "His mother even told me to take care of him for her and be there for him..." I trailed off at the look on Baba's face.

"You like this boy?" Baba asked so straightforwardly it almost caught me off guard. Was I really having this type of conversation with my father? I sure was, and it was pretty awkward.

"Baba," I moaned, and he chuckled.

"Come on, you can tell me, can't you? Don't be embarrassed," he encouraged, so I sighed, looking down at my hands as I mumbled, "Yes, I do."

Baba heaved a sigh. "I knew this day would come sooner or later. But I was hoping it'd be later," he said with a hint of defeat. "You are, after all, a mature young woman of nineteen, and Masha'Allah, a beautiful one too."

I couldn't help but smile at that. "Thank you, Baba."

"But," Baba raised his index finger with a stern stare, and I just knew there was going to be a 'but.' "Marriage is a big commitment. And there are a lot of factors we have to consider, such as the cost, where you're going to live, whether Damian is suitable for you, and many more. It's not just your decision, but your mother and I's decision."

I nodded, completely understanding. "Yes, I know. There's a lot to think about and discuss, which is why I think we should go back to them. They must be waiting," I gestured to the doorway, my heartbeat picking up its pace as I thought of facing Damian again. Never in a million years did I consider that he wanted to marry me. Though for some reason, I couldn't imagine anyone else but him.

When we re-entered the living room Damian rose from the couch suddenly, his eyes meeting mine sincerely. I held his gaze for a record of two seconds before looking away – it was getting harder and harder to maintain eye contact when all I could think about was this guy wants to marry me? Whoa.

"Okay," Baba breathed out as he sat back on the couch beside Immi, and I planted myself down in the armchair, feeling like curling up and pretending this wasn't all happening, but it was, and I had to face it. This was my future, after all. And after speaking with Baba, I realised that I had to stay strong through this and be a mature adult. Even if the inner teenager in me was a squealing mess of emotions.

"I know this isn't an easy time for any of us," Karen began with a rasp in her voice, "But we need to think of our children here and put ourselves aside for the moment."

"Yes, I agree," Immi nodded, flashing Karen a smile. "It is for them, not us."

At those words I snuck a peek at Damian, only to find him looking straight at me. Ugh, I wished he wouldn't do that! It was like he was looking into my soul.

I then remembered how marriage is the union of two souls for the pleasure of Allah, and it was written for us even before we were born, who we would end up with, so I wondered if Allah had written Damian's name next to mine. Just the thought of it gave me goose bumps.

"First of all, we need to make a decision," Baba spoke up. He looked across at Damian and his parents with a gaze that was neither scrutinizing nor judgemental. That's what I loved about my father – he gave people a chance before jumping to conclusions. Though it was his job as my dad to be suspicious of everyone and everything until it was clarified.

"Damian," Baba addressed him directly, and Damian regarded him with a strong look of determination and utmost respect, increasing my admiration for him. He had transformed from a disrespectful loud arrogant toad to a courageous charming prince, and he had definitely charmed my parents last time he met them, so I could only hope he could do it again.

"Yes, Mr. Barakat?" Talk about respect. Baba seemed to straighten up on being called Mr Barakat. Both my parents loved being called Mr and Mrs because it made them feel 'important' and 'high class' as they put it.

"Why do you want to marry my daughter?"

Baba didn't demand, he interrogated, and I could tell he was still evaluating whether Damian would be "suitable" for me. I knew he didn't say it aloud, but he was a little wary of the fact that Damian wasn't Arab and that his whole family came from a different culture to us. But he was a Muslim, and to my parents, above all, that was what really mattered.

"Because she makes me want to be a better person," Damian replied so naturally and easily it was like he had been waiting to be asked that question. "But most importantly...a better Muslim."

If my parents weren't charmed before, they definitely were now. I could tell they liked the answer they received, and I noticed Karen squeeze Damian's hand with a proud smile, and Darren shoot his son an approving grin. I, on the other hand, was melting inside.

"That's a very good reason," Baba remarked, and everyone chuckled. "But I need more."

"Okay, then," Damian seemed up to the challenge, and after shooting a glance at me, almost stopping my heart with those ocean eyes, he turned back to my parents and went on to say, "How about, I have feelings for her, and I want to keep things halal between us?"

Baba nodded, contemplating his response. "Hm, not bad, not bad."

I refrained from rolling my eyes at my father. It was clear to see he was enjoying this, since as a father, it was his job to grill the man who wanted to marry his daughter.

"How about you, Mariam?"

At the sound of my name, I jolted, forgetting that I was in the room, mainly because it felt like I was floating on a cloud, surveying the scene from above. This was all so surreal. "What about me?"

"Do you return his feelings?" Immi questioned, since Baba already knew. You'd think it would be the opposite, that my mother would be the first to know. But my father sure had a way of making you spill your guts. He could be very persuasive.

I could feel all eyes on me as I took my sweet time to answer this incredibly personal question. But as Allah was my witness, I told the truth, hoping that good would come out of it. "Yes."

"Then that's settled then, isn't it? They both like each other, and want to get married for pure reasons," Damian's father said brightly.

"Marriage isn't as simple as that, Darren," Baba said gravely, and Darren's face fell.

"Oh. Okay, then. What else is there?"

"Support," Immi supplied. "Are they going to support themselves or do we as parents have to support them?"

"I think we should do our best to help them start, at least," Karen chimed in. "That's what we are here for, right?"

"Yes, yes, but we also need to organize the wedding," Immi added.

"We don't have to have a wedding," Baba muttered. "All we need is a document to be signed."

"But what about the rest of the family? They must know about it, and we must have guests over to celebrate," Immi argued.

As the adults discussed everything in heat, I began tuning them out, mainly because I was picturing it all – a future with Damian. Was it a dream? I pinched myself just to be sure, but I ended up pinching a little too hard, and Damian noticed.

"Are you pinching yourself?" he chuckled with amusement glittering in his eyes.

"No," I mumbled, rubbing my pinched skin with a pout.

"Good, because this is the real life, Mariam," Damian smirked, but it quickly turned into a genuine smile which I returned after a few seconds, still trying to process this. Our parents were planning everything right there in my living room, and from the way my mother was getting excited and Damian's mother's face was illuminated with a smile, it was clear that this really was happening. It finally sunk in when Baba shook Damian's hand and said, "Welcome to the family, son," clapping him on the back and squeezing his shoulder.

"Thank you, Mr Barakat," Damian beamed.

Immi beckoned for me to stand up, so I rose from my snug little armchair, brushing down my skirt that I had quickly changed into before coming into the living room when Damian arrived, since apparently what I had been wearing before was too 'casual.' Karen suddenly came over to me and gave me a warm hug, where I could really feel how thin she was, but there was passion and soul in her hug, and she smelled nice, like how a mother should smell like – home.

"I have always felt like you were the daughter I never had, Mariam, ever since I met you," she murmured, and for some reason, that brought tears to my eyes which I tried to blink away discreetly to no avail, since Karen spotted them after pulling away.

"Aw, honey, don't cry," she lifted a finger and wiped the stray tear that had slipped to my cheek, smiling at me so caringly I had to fight the urge not to burst into a waterfall right then and there. Why did she have to be sick? She was such a beautiful kind person, she didn't deserve this pain and suffering. It was so sad that my soon to be mother-in-law didn't have long left, and so I just pulled her into another embrace, savouring her warmth.

"I don't want you to go," I whispered, but I think Karen understood this in a different way for she replied with, "Oh, Mariam, we'll see each other soon enough anyway. Plenty of planning and organizing, am I right?"

I just nodded, biting my lip. "Yes, plenty."

"You must be excited," Karen grinned at me, and I laughed.

"Yeah," I admitted honestly.

"I just know you'll make a beautiful bride," Karen told me, squeezing my hands one last time before letting go.

"Thank you," I smiled, but those two words weren't enough to convey my gratefulness to this wonderful woman who raised Damian. Even if he had been obnoxious and egotistical before, now that he had changed and reformed into a Muslim, the qualities that his mother had taught him were beginning to show.

"Mariam," there was only one voice in this entire world that said my name like that, and I remember a time when I didn't like hearing it on his lips, but now...I guess I changed too.

"Damian," wasn't it funny how our names rhymed? Maybe it really was fate...or some comical coincidence.

"I'm sorry I didn't talk to you about this before," I was surprised by his apology, mainly because I didn't think he needed to apologize for anything. "I should've asked you if you wanted the same thing before...jumping in."

"It's okay," I blurted out. "You don't need to apologize. You did the right thing."

"I know," Damian replied smugly. "And it wasn't easy." Hearing him admit this made me laugh.

"The right thing isn't always easy," I said. "But I gotta say, I'm impressed."

"By my charm?" Damian smirked.

"Nah," I chuckled. "I was more impressed by the fact that you owned a suit."

"Oh, this old thing?" Damian gestured to his attire. "Yeah, it was at the back of my closet. Sometimes I wear it just to feel fancy."

"Hm, I see," I tapped my chin with amusement.

"So are you guys getting married or what?"

I jumped at the sound of my brother's voice from right behind me, and I turned to find him and Zeinab emerging from the hallway, where they had been hiding this whole time, eavesdropping on everything.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, we are, Nasr," Damian replied smoothly, shooting a dimpled smile at me that melted my heart.

"I guess second time's the charm, right, Mariam?" Nasr nudged me, and I glared at him.

"What do you mean?" Damian asked curiously.

"Oh, you know, you're not the first to propose to my dear little sister," Nasr informed him while slinging an unwanted arm around my shoulders. I resisted the urge to shove him away as I studied Damian's reaction to this news.

"Really?" Damian's gaze swept over my features before saying, "Not surprised."

"Yeah, the poor guy got rejected," Nasr continued with a laugh.

"Who was it?" Damian asked, and I found it strange that he didn't know already, since he hung out with Zaid at the mosque. I wondered why Zaid never told him...

"Zaid," Zeinab answered before anyone else could, and Damian's eyebrows shot up.

"Damn," he murmured, before locking eyes with me again. "And you rejected him?"

"Yep, like the twelve publishers that rejected J.K. Rowling," I responded smoothly, and Damian laughed.

"That's cold," he remarked. "But if you didn't reject him, I never would've gotten a chance." There was a moment that passed between us where he looked at me so deeply I felt like I was falling into his eyes, until Zeinab pulled me out with her voice.

"I shipped you guys from the start," Zeinab confessed. "I can't believe you're actually engaged!"

"Engaged?" I echoed, the concept suddenly new to me. Were Damian and I engaged now? When did that happen?

"Believe it, sister," Damian smirked.

"When's the engagement ceremony?" Nasr questioned.

I then realised that I had no idea. Maybe I should've been paying attention.

"I think our parents said it was next Saturday?" Damian recalled.

"Next Saturday?" What was I, an echo?

"Weren't you listening?" Damian smirked at me, and I bit my lip sheepishly.

"No," I mumbled.

"Wow, Mariam, you should pay attention when your future engagement is being talked about!" Nasr teased.

"So should you," I retorted, and his eyes widened.

"Uh, yeah..." he scratched the nape of his neck awkwardly.

"Maybe you should have a joint wedding! Wouldn't that be cool?" Zeinab gushed, and we all turned to her with horrified expressions.

"No way!" Nasr and I cried.

"Hey, that's not a bad idea," Immi suddenly appeared in the hallway with us, carrying a tray of the empty coffee mugs. "It'll be cheaper too."

"Immi," I groaned.

Immi just flashed a wink at us before disappearing into the kitchen. I covered my face with my palm and sighed. When I removed it, I found Damian staring at me with an amused expression. "What?" I snapped.