Damian's POV

If someone came up to me at the beginning of last year and said, "You're going to convert to Islam and marry at nineteen," I would've laughed in their face and probably told them to go screw themselves. Now, my views were completely different, and marrying at nineteen wasn't something weird to me anymore. It seemed right.

Yes, I was young, in the first year of uni, still learning about the world and about myself, but I wasn't going to do it alone. And who better to help me figure it all out than Mariam?

"Here he is – the groom himself," Dad announced as I headed down the stairs. He wore a suit, his trademark look, but he seemed to be glowing, happiness radiating off his face. I didn't think I had ever seen my dad look so happy, not in a long time, anyway. "You look like a real man, now, son."

"Thanks," I said as Aunt Kate emerged from the hallway with Mum on her arm. The two of us took a moment to gaze at the most important woman in our lives, who wore a beautiful pink and white scarf decorated with flowers, and a matching long dress Aunt Kate must have bought her. When Mum saw me she smiled a genuine smile, and immediately gave me a hug.

"Alhamdulillah," she kept repeating, and I realised she was thanking Allah for granting her life until this day, and it really melted my insides.

Dad held her hand and told her she looked lovely, and they shared a whispered conversation where Dad nodded his head firmly, saying, "Yes, I'm sure."

This made Mum break into a delighted grin, and I wondered what they were talking about until Aunt Kate said, "Time for a family photo!"

Aunt Kate gathered us before the front door and got out her iPhone, using it to take a few snaps. Of course, Tracey also took lots of pics of us all, even attempting a selfie with my parents and I which failed horribly, but whatever, at least she tried.

"My little cuz is all grown up!" Tracey pretended to flick a tear from her eye before wrapping me in a hug. "I guess the next time I'll see you, you'll be a married man!"

"You betcha," I replied with a laugh.

"We'll see you at the park," Aunt Kate waggled her fingers at us as we left through the door, stepping into a partly cloudy, partly sunny day. My favourite type of weather where it was a balance of both light and dark. Only my parents and Mariam's parents were coming to the Nikkah which would take place in the mosque, and after that we would all meet up with the rest of the family at the botanical gardens to have a picnic lunch and celebrate.

We arrived at the mosque just in time, and it was pretty deserted, until a certain red car rolled up into the parking lot, and out stepped my future brother-in-law. Alone.

"Where's your sister?" I asked him.

"Oh, she's coming, don't worry," Nasr winked. "I just wanted to get here first."

As soon as he said those words, another car arrived, and sure enough, it was Mariam's blue car. I felt a hand in mine and looked to my left to see Mum beaming at me with glittering eyes.

"It's her," she whispered.

First her parents emerged from the car, and then her sister Zeinab, wearing a purple dress. Nasr's hand clamped onto my right shoulder just as Mariam herself appeared, a vision of pure white, holding onto her father's arm for support while her mother brushed down her skirt. I sucked in a breath.

"Are you alright, there, Damian?" Nasr asked me with a smirk.

With my eyes on Mariam, who still hadn't looked up, I replied, "No, I think I just died and went to heaven, because that right there is an angel."

"I couldn't agree more," Mum murmured.

She really was angelic, and though it was totally cliché, I found myself falling for her all over again. I wasn't sure when exactly I started to like her, but it was clear to me now that I never liked a girl like this before. Maybe because everything was different this time.

"Let's head inside," Dad directed, and he sounded eager to go in, which I found a little strange. He took Mum's arm and guided her inside, while I stood in the doorway, waiting for Mariam and her parents to catch up.

"Assalamu Alaykum," I greeted warmly, and Mariam's parents returned the greeting with smiles. It was only then that Mariam snuck a glance up, and in that moment our eyes connected, all I could think was, Masha'allah. Nothing but that word resonated in my mind, for I was numb, and speechless.

There was a table and a few chairs set up for us in the mosque, and the Imam of the mosque, who I recognized since I came to this mosque regularly. He shook hands with me and Mariam's father, and even my father, while everyone else sat down. Only direct family was here for the Nikkah, and I kind of liked it this way, because there were less people to be nervous in front of. But there was no need to be nervous. This was what I wanted, and where better to hold it privately in the House of Allah, with Him as our witness.

***

Mariam's POV

It felt like a dream as I signed the contract under my name, the pen gripped tightly in my shaking fingers.

This is it, Mariam. You're a wife now.

I turned to Damian, who had already signed his name, and his eyes met mine, a playful spark in those aquamarine depths. Oh, how I had grown to love those eyes, and not just their colour, but the depth beneath them. They weren't joking when they said eyes were the window to the soul, and I could see Damian's soul now, bound to mine in the most beautiful way, for the sake of Allah.

The Imam read Surat Al Fatiha and led the Du'aa, blessing our marriage and our future, and then the Mahr was given. Since we already had engagement rings, it became part of the mahr for me from the groom's side.

"Now, there's just one more thing," the Imam said, looking at Damian's father. I wondered what the Imam was going to say, maybe about how Damian's father wasn't Muslim, but surely that wasn't a problem here?

"This has never been done before in this Mosque during a Nikkah, but I suppose there's a first time for everything," the Imam continued with the hint of a smile.

"What's going on?" Damian asked, looking to both of his parents, who both sported the same secretive smiles.

"Damian, I am going to convert to Islam," Dad declared, shooting an affectionate smile to his wife. "I love your mother, and I'd do anything for her. After hearing what the people said at the engagement party, about how a non-Muslim can't be married to a Muslim, I realised that I want to be with your mum, no matter what, until the end. Even if I have to change my religion to do that."

Kareema gazed at her husband lovingly, with a few tears glistening in her eyes.

Damian, however, seemed beyond surprised, probably not knowing what to feel at that moment since he just got married, and now his father was converting too. "Dad, I..."

"I've seen how you've changed, Damian, and I want to support you too, all the way. I'm not gonna lie, I didn't like your religion at first, but after learning more about it, I realised it wasn't too bad, and maybe it would make me a better person too, but most importantly, a better father to you, son."

After his little speech, Damian's expression remained astonished, and his father grinned at him, before turning to the Imam. "So, what do I have to say?"

The Imam got Darren to repeat the shahada after him, and as he did, I looked over to Damian, who still looked overwhelmed by it all. It was only when the Imam shook Darren's hand, saying, "Welcome to Islam, brother," that it seemed to sink in for him.

"Dad, you actually converted," Damian stated with a trace of incredulity.

"I sure did, Damian," Darren replied, and there was a round of 'awws' as he hugged his son, patting him on the back as men did.

"This day is perfect," Immi said to me with a tearful smile. We all rose out of our seats and I embraced my mother, who was shedding a few happy tears on my shoulder. Once I pulled away, Zeinab attacked me from the side, letting out a bunch of squeals.

"You're officially married, Mariam! How does it feel?" She asked as if she were an interviewer.

I exchanged a glance with Damian, who was being given a rough hug by my brother, before turning to my sister with a beam. "It feels exciting."

"It will only get more and more exciting, habibti," Immi assured me.

"This is the best day of my life," Kareema gushed while embracing me. Her voice was barely a whisper, but I could hear her loud and clear, piercing my heart with so many emotions at once. "First my son gets married to a beautiful Muslim girl, and then my husband converts to Islam. Alhamdulillah!"

"Alhamdulillah," I sighed, not wanting to let go of Kareema. This woman had been through so much, I was so glad she was feeling happiness in her last days, and Allah was granting her last wishes.

"Oh, no, don't cry, you'll ruin your pretty makeup!" Kareema scolded with a smile, and I laughed, removing the stray tear with the edge of my index finger.

"At least the mascara is waterproof," I told her.

"Oh, Mariam, always looking at the bright side," Zeinab praised, poking my arm.

"Once you're married, all you see is the bright side," I pinched her cheek.

"That's very true," Damian suddenly appeared beside us, and I had to remind myself that this was my husband now, the man I could call mine. He shot me a dimpled grin, saying, "You look beautiful, by the way."

By the way. How can he be so casual? I was never good at taking compliments, but for some reason, I had the perfect response this time.

"I'm glad you noticed," I joked, and I saw Damian's eyes flash with something I didn't recognise, before he burst out laughing.

"I think my old cockiness has affected you, Vir – Mariam," he remarked, and I noticed that he almost said my old nickname. It seemed he always used it when he was joking around with me, which made me feel nostalgic for a moment.

"I learnt from the best," I shrugged.

"Aw, look at the two of you, so cute!" Zeinab gushed at us, pressing her knuckles to her cheeks. "My ship has finally sailed into the sea!"

"And now your ship has to go pray Zuhr," Baba butted in, and I realised that he was right. We had to pray Zuhr and then leave soon, or else we'd be late.

After we prayed, with the exception of Damian's father, who was having a chat to the Imam about what he needed to do now that he was Muslim, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders, a weight I hadn't realised was there.

"Shall we?" Damian said in a terrible British accent, holding out an arm for me like one of those chivalrous gentlemen, and I smiled, seeing him in a completely different way.

"We shall," I replied in an equally terrible British accent, taking his arm and being closer to him than I'd ever been in my entire life – right by his side.

Nasr was our chauffeur to the gardens, as was the plan all along, while my parents and Zeinab took my car. Damian and I sat in the backseat, and I realised how awkward it would be with Nasr in the car with us, being the typical older brother and teasing his newly-wed little sister.

"So, Dariam – yes, that's right, I'm going to refer to you as your ship name because saying both your names separately takes way too long – how's the married life?"

I exchanged a look with Damian where we both questioned my brother's sanity before I replied with, "So far so good."

"I couldn't be happier," Damian answered, taking my hand and shooting me a smile that conveyed so much meaning. His words were familiar, until I recalled him saying something similar after he converted to Islam.

I squeezed his hand, which was warm and surprisingly smooth, our fingers interlaced and my ring reflecting the sunlight from the windows, sending shards of light spraying across the car ceiling in sparkling geometric shapes.

"You know, I feel a little humiliated," Nasr confessed.

"And why's that, dear big brother?" I asked lightly.

"First of all, you, my younger sister of two and a half years, gets married before me, and second, I didn't do anything about that," Nasr vented. "Do you know how that makes me look?"

"Like a loser?" Damian supplied.

"Couldn't have said it better," I laughed.

Nasr huffed. "Whatever. I'm just happy for you guys. And Mariam?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you didn't end up with Zaid," Nasr said with an evil grin.

"Me too," I agreed with a giggle.

"Plus, it's much more interesting this way," Nasr continued.

"Wait, why's it more interesting?" Damian asked. "Other than the obvious, of course," he added.

Nasr laughed. "How many times have you heard the bad boy convert to Islam, and then marry the good Muslim girl?"

"Not many," Damian replied.

"Exactly," Nasr said while turning on the radio.

"Hey, can you play something romantic?" Damian asked Nasr, and my eyes widened.

"What?!" I spluttered, and Damian winked at me.

"Just kidding," he smirked. Then he leaned forward to Nasr's seat and whispered, "I'm not kidding."

"Oh, my goodness," I sighed, covering my face with my palm as Nasr found a song, and just by the first few seconds I could tell it was a mushy one.

"When your legs don't work like they used to before..."

"Oh, please make it stop," I moaned, mainly because Nasr and Damian were singing along. Oh, the torture!

"And darling I will be loving you till we're seventy!"

Eventually I stopped resisting, especially when I noticed Damian's voice wasn't too bad, and the way he was gazing at me like I was his everything was a little intoxicating. But I liked it.

"We're here!" Nasr announced just as the song ended. Halfway through it Damian had stopped singing along, instead just holding my hand and rubbing circles with his thumb, a gesture so small causing feelings so big.

I suddenly forgot that though the biggest part was over, i.e. the Nikkah, there was still the picnic lunch left, which was organised mainly by Aunt Kate and Tracey with most of the food made by my mother and aunties. My entire family was going to be there; all my cousins and aunties and uncles and grandparents and family friends. As well as some of Damian's family, which apparently wasn't a lot.

Yeah, I wasn't nervous at all. Nope. Not one bit.

"You ready?" Damian whispered as we unclicked our seatbelts.

"No," I admitted.

"Hey, I'll be right with you," Damian assured me before climbing out of the car. He went round and opened my door for me, and though my dress wasn't too puffy, it was still a lot to handle, but Damian helped me out like such a gentleman, the kind of gentleman I never thought he could be.

"I can't wait to show you off to everyone," Damian murmured, his eyes gliding over me once again. The dress really was perfect, and Yasmine had made it even better, especially with the matching hijab she had designed herself, a long chiffon veil billowing out from a jewelled crown that made me feel like a princess. I had spent four hours this morning getting ready, with the help of Yasmine, Zeinab and my mum, who all collaborated to do my makeup and nails. Yesterday we had thrown a henna party, inviting all my girl cousins, as well as Fatima and Yasmine, so my hands were covered in beautiful designs done by the lady we hired to do it for all of us. We might have partied a little too hard last night, but luckily the makeup covered up the dark circles underneath my eyes, and needless to say, I looked like a completely different person, which was exactly what I had been aiming for.

"Likewise," I responded, making him chuckle.

"I'm flattered."

"Yallah, love birds," Nasr led the way, and I stuck by Damian's side as we crossed the road. I had suggested we have the wedding picnic at the Royal Botanical Gardens, since it was the perfect location for a wedding picnic, with lots of lush trees and a lake that would come out great in the photos. Plus, it was almost spring, and the flowers were budding, giving the air a sweet floral scent that circulated in the breeze.

It was a Sunday, so there were lots of other people here going for a stroll or scattered on the lawns having their own picnics, staring as we passed. I heard a few kids exclaim, "There's a wedding!" and I remember being in their position once, witnessing weddings at the beach or the park, awing at the bride's gown and picturing myself in her position one day.

"Smile!"

I was caught off guard by a redheaded girl in a butter yellow dress who lept out of nowhere and snapped a photo of Damian and I, until I recognized her to be none other than my awesome photographer friend, Denise. Rose petals began to rain from the sky as all the guests applauded and cheered for us, most of the women trilling their tongues. It was all so overwhelming, but I couldn't stop beaming while Denise snapped photos.

"You guys look fantastic!" Denise's gushed, grinning with red lips.

"So do you, girl!" I exclaimed, and it was true. Being in a relationship had brought out Denise's best qualities, and she was becoming more beautiful every time I saw her. I left Damian's side to receive her into a hug, and she was just the first of multiple other people who came and congratulated us and bid us a blissful marriage. Of course, if I tried naming all of them we'd be here for a while, but needless to say, the most important people in my life were present today.

"Bismillahi masha'allah tabarakallah!" my grandma held out her hands as she examined me with a proud smile. "You look just like your mother when she got married. Spitting image! Barakallahu feeki (may Allah bless you)."

"Jazakallah, Sitti," I hugged my grandma, remembering what she had said to my mother at the engagement, but it seemed that no longer bothered her. Perhaps Immi had managed to convince her the good of our marriage. Then I realised that my parents weren't here yet.

"Where are my parents?" I asked Aunt Kate, the key organiser of this event.

"They should be here soon," she replied. Then her eyes slid to the right of me and her face lit up with a smile. "Oh, look, speak of the devil, they're here!"

I turned and sure enough, they were, and though I had seen them half an hour ago, I still went and gave them both a hug, as well as Zeinab, who was complaining about how hungry she was.