I gave myself one last once-over before going down. My father gifted me a long-sleeved Maxi dress for my birthday, and I'm wearing it now. It's my favorite, and I adore it. The color is royal blue. In addition, I'm wearing a pink jilbab. I am so anxious; usually, I am not this anxious, but today I am feeling more nervous.
I'm thinking while making my way down the stairs. I am so immersed in my thoughts that I am picturing every potential scenario for the physical characteristics of the man I will be meeting today. Will he be my age or old? Will he be visually appealing? It began to rain as I was thinking.
Oh my Allah, my laundry is outdoors. I ran outside screaming. I nearly fell over when I unlocked the door, but someone caught me.
I examined my dress and shouted, "Oh my Allah, thank you," without paying attention to the person. Allah be praised, there was no dirt on it; at the moment, I can't afford to change it once more because the guests will arrive soon.
"You're lucky your dress didn't get dirty," said the stranger.
Yes, you are entirely responsible. Thank you a lot." I expressed my gratitude to him. But what about just knocking on our door? Can I assist you in any way? " I questioned him.
I was just about to knock on the door. We're your new neighbors. We just moved in, and my mother requested me to bring this back. I don't have to go in because you're here. Return this to your mother and tell her that my mother is grateful for her assistance." He handed me a plate that resembled the one I was looking for the day before.
I was wondering where it had gone, so this is where I found it. I took it from him and examined it. I stole a glance at the stranger. I didn't notice it at the time, but he's so tall, or was I this short? He recognized I was staring at him.
OK, I'll tell her, "Thank you again for your assistance." I tried not to gaze at him any further.
By the way, my name is Safia; what is yours?" I inquired.
My name is Saad. It was wonderful meeting you, I'll see you around," he replied before departing.
Even though it wasn't raining anymore, I continued to collect my laundry. It happens all the time; it appears to rain but then stops.
I returned home and hung the laundry in my room. I could hear my sister open the door. " I'm sure it's the expected guests." I took a look down at them. Since I'm upstairs, I can see them clearly if I stand on my room's balcony, which faces the main door. So I took a chance and peered in.
"So we were thinking the same," Samia whispered in my ear, shocking me.
"ShhhhHHHHHH, don't talk or they'll hear us; let's just look," I suggested.
"Masha Allah, he is so handsome; is that my soon-to-be brother-in-law?" Samia yelled, oblivious to the fact that we were spying on our visitors
Suddenly the man raised his head, and our gazes locked. I was so humiliated and terrified at the same time that I quickly stepped away from his look and dragged Samia with me.
Yes, Masha Allah; he is not very tall, but he is also not particularly short. And those eyes—even though we weren't close enough, I noticed his scar on the brow. He screamed Ex[ensive, and I am the boss, His attire reveals that he is the neat type.
But still, I went back to look at him. His air exudes authority. I stared at him, starting with his shoes, which screamed expensive; they were black and spotless, the latest model. I carried on from where I left off.
He is dressed in a black suit that complements his brown skin, I had the opportunity to investigate further because he was on his phone this time; he appears solemn. As I continued my inspection, I spotted his hand; he was wearing the costly watch I had seen the other day on the internet. He's in such good shape that I can see his muscles poking out from under his suit jacket.
"Stop drolling, Safia; he isn't yet your husband; it's Haram." "Did you forget?" Samia made fun of me.
I gathered my thoughts; it's true that I shouldn't stare at non-Muharam males. Let's hurry; Mama is calling. Sam and I walked together to meet the visitors.
"Come and greet your uncle and aunt girls," Mama said before we could say salam. Safia and Samia are my daughters," she continued.
Aunt Amal and Uncle Asad are here. They are our visitors today.
"They're both stunning, Masha Allah," exclaimed the woman standing next to my dad. Without a doubt, she was the mother of the man we had just seen. She is dressed in a trendy, stylish formal Abaya.
Her fancy leather purse is stunning. She is petite and has black skin that shines like silk. I'd like to know what skincare routine she follows.
Aunt, your skin is radiant; I'm curious about the skin care products you use." Sam cut me off. She is, indeed, my chatty sister; she never misses an opportunity
Aunt, your skin is radiant; I'm curious about the skin care products you use." Sam cut me off. She is, indeed, my chatty sister; she never misses an opportunity
Oh, she's so direct, she didn't take after you at all, Layla." Aunt Amal looked Sam in the eyes and said, "You have no respect for elders."
But Sam was completely unaware. She continued her inquiry, "Is there any specific product you use?" My sister and I are looking for recommendations, so please do so.
Aunt Amin's face became harsher as she ignored my sister's query and told my mother, "This one is disrespectful, you should teach her how to talk to elders."
"Samia just likes to talk, so don't mind her sister, Amal," my mother said.
I interrupted them to remove the discomfort. Aunt Amina, instead of standing, let's go to the living room and sit. We had been anticipating your arrival. Let's ignore my younger sister