"When are you getting married?" Fatimah demanded as she stomped towards Asiya's desk.

Asiya put her pen down and rolled her eyes, but a smile slipped across her face. She currently associated only one person with the word married and all its variations, definitions, and tenses.

"It's not even been a month since we started getting to know each other," Asiya said.

"And?" Fatimah placed a hand on her hip. "You should see your smile. It's clear evidence that love doesn't work on a timeline."

Asiya snorted and pushed her chair back. "It's way too soon. Our families haven't even met yet," she reasoned.

"So you're waiting for your parents' permission before you allow yourself to fall in love with Yusuf?" Fatimah clicked her tongue. "What a dutiful daughter you are."

Asiya feigned an annoyed sigh and lightly pushed Fatimah towards the door. "Remind me again why I asked you to get lunch with me?"

"Because you love me. But not as much as you seem to love Yusuf," Fatimah sang as they left Asiya's office.

"Again. I don't love him," Asiya said as she pressed the button to call the lift.

"Now I'm concerned," Fatimah frowned. "You've seen the man. You've gone on dates with him, and you're always talking to him."

"Yes, to get to know him," Asiya argued lightly.

"It's been ages since I attended a big, fat Nigerian wedding, Asiya. Stop being selfish and give me a reason to dress up. How much more do you need to know about him?"

Asiya knew Fatimah was only teasing her, but her stomach swirled like a pile of leaves on a windy day. "A lot," she answered truthfully.

Asiya knew all of Yusuf's CV-like facts. She knew his likes, dislikes, and interests and could write down his traits. 

Each time they spoke, Asiya learned a little more about Yusuf, allowing her to slowly piece together a clearer picture of him like a puzzle.

His actions towards her were building a foundation for those feelings. However, Asiya had an itch Yusuf was failing to scratch.

"We haven't spoken to his family. We've not heard anything from them since Yusuf and I started speaking. Not a phone call, text or letter. They've said nothing. Nada. Nothing at all," Asiya said.

"He's meeting your family this weekend, isn't he?" Fatimah asked.

"Exactly! He's meeting mine. I don't think he's bringing his." Asiya tapped her toes against the floor. "Don't you think it's weird?"

"Not really," Fatimah answered. You guys don't live at home. You've been speaking for a few weeks, but he's only just meeting your dad and family. He needs proper permission—in-person permission—before he takes things further."

"Ibrahim brought his parents with him when he first met my family," Asiya said.

Fatimah wrinkled her nose and tutted. "Ibrahim was different. The arrangement was different. It's the first meeting. Yusuf probably knows the focus will be on him and all that's happened between you guys so far."

Asiya watched the numbers on the lift screen change as the lift climbed towards them. "Stop defending him," she mumbled.

"Can't help it. I like the guy for you," Fatimah winked.

"I like the guy for me, too," Asiya admitted. "I just have questions."

Like if Yusuf's family would like her and accept her, who had his family envisioned as a wife for him? Would Asiya ever compare? Would Yusuf's family care that she was black?

Yusuf was mixed but appeared 'Pakistani-passing.' He had grown up with his mother and her family and seemed to have turned out okay. But it was easy for people to act as though they 'didn't see race' when they literally couldn't see it."

"And I'm not convinced by some of his answers," Asiya said.

"Do you trust him?" Fatimah asked.

Trust?

Yusuf hadn't given Asiya a reason not to trust him. He'd assumed that listening to Asiya, taking the time to learn and understand her, and showing his dedication to Islam would earn her trust--but was that enough?

Could Asiya stand at the edge of a building, turn around and fall?

Asiya was sure Yusuf would hold his arms out to catch her if she fell. It was his character. He would do that for anyone.

But once he caught her, would he immediately let her go? Let his arms swing at his sides as he led her away from the edge and simply walked away?

Asiya couldn't answer her questions. There were so many pieces of Yusuf she had yet to discover and receive.

"I trust Allah," Asiya said.

Her answer may have been a cop-out to some, but in her human body, Asiya was limited. 

She suffered from the weakness of having eyes that saw no further than the face people presented and having ears that could only hear the conversations they were included in.

Asiya could only take what Yusuf gave her, and while Yusuf's heart seemed to guide his actions and tongue, Asiya would never ignore the fact that she couldn't see past them. 

That was a position held solely by Allah.

The lift button flashed, and the lift pinged, announcing its arrival.

"Fairs," Fatimah shrugged as she stepped forward. "Maybe when–"

"Fatimah." Gouge cleared her name from his throat as he stood in the lift.

Fatimah stiffened in her spot. Asiya watched Fatimah raise her chin until her hostile eyes aligned with Gouge's.

"Gouge. Hello," Fatimah greeted him tightly.

"Which one is it today? Are you hard at work or hardly working?" A smile cracked across Gouge's face. It emphasised all his lines and displayed his wrinkles, making his face look like a mosaic of broken glass.

Fatimah folded her arms.

"It was a joke, Fatimah. Geez." Gouge unprofessionally rolled his eyes. He pinched his fingers in front of his lips before spreading them apart. "I suggest you smile more. Makes you look less intimidating."

"Asiya." Gouge nodded stiffly in Asiya's direction before walking off.

The girls waited till they were inside the lift before reacting.

"Yuck. Yuck. Yuck. That felt like the equivalent of a guy going where's my hug," Fatimah shivered.

"You hardened up in front of him...Have you had a run in with him too?" Asiya asked.

"Run in? More like run ins. He sees a black person and goes after them like a bull chasing the colour red," Fatimah spat.

Asiya's mind flashed back to the day she had tried to discuss her petition. Gouge had run through insults and stereotypes like they had been listed on the meeting agenda.

"Yup," Asiya agreed. "I was thinking of going to Kerry and asking her to lead my petition."

"Don't bother. Gouge knows it came from you, so he'll make sure it doesn't pass. But if he's said anything off-hand, just go straight to the top and report him. That's what I'm going to do," Fatimah said.

Asiya's eyes flared open slightly. "What's he done to you?"

The beads in Fatimah's braids clacked against each other softly as she shook her head and shrugged.

"Nothing much. He doesn't go further than cracking poor jokes. Even though a lot of them have racist undertones, I don't think they're enough to get action taken. Not when everyone finds them funny."

- Y -

Four dates, multiple phone calls, and constant chat with Asiya bridged Yusuf's confession to Asiya with today, meeting day.

Yusuf had cleared out his calendar for the weekend, turned off his work phone, quizzed Asiya about her family members, and recited attributes about them back to her like he was preparing for a test, but fear still felt indigenous to him. It was streaming through Yusuf, stuttering his speech and disrupting all his actions.

His finger had nearly slipped off the doorbell when he pressed it.

Yusuf chewed on his bottom lip and painfully peeled off pieces of healthy skin as he waited for the front door to open.

"Bismillah Yusuf. You've got this, Yusuf," he mumbled.

His voice sounded low and shaky like it was hiding, and it threatened to disappear altogether when Yusuf heard locks click and turn from behind the front door.

"Yusuf! I'm Abdul-Rahman. Asalamu alaykum! Come in! Come in!"

Asiya's father moved to the side, opening up enough space for Yusuf to step inside before he welcomed Yusuf with a firm handshake that turned into a brief hug followed by some back pats.

Yusuf was startled but managed to reply to Asiya's dad with the greeting he had rehearsed.

Yusuf's fingers tightened around the items in his hand while his toes squirmed in his shoes. "Thank you for having me," he said politely.

"Thank you for coming. I was starting to fear that Asiya and her dad were talking about a ghost," a light voice remarked.

Yusuf tilted his head. An older woman whom Asiya seemed to have copied her face from planted herself beside Asiya's dad. "Asalamu alaykum. I'm Sharifah. Asiya's mother," she introduced herself with a slight nod.

"Wa alaykum salam. Then these are for you," Yusuf said as he held out the arrangement of flowers he had brought. "Jazakallah khair for having me in your home."

"Oh, you shouldn't have! These are beautiful! Lilies are my favourite," Asiya's mother gushed as she hugged the bouquet to her hijab.

"You do know he's just trying to suck up to you," Asiya's dad said playfully.

"Well, it's working," Sharifah winked at Asiya's dad.

"I brought som-something for everyone," Yusuf stuttered. He swung the gift bags he was holding from his side to his front and held them out like a kid sheepishly presenting their parents with a postictal stick project.

"Does everyone include me?" A teenager chirped as she descended down the stairs.

"Yes," Yusuf nodded with a shy smile.

"Wow. Thanks. All these gifts." The teenager cocked her head to the side. "Are you sure your name is Yusuf? 'Cause you're moving like Oprah."

"This is Kulthum." Asiya's dad held the girl's shoulders and beamed proudly.

Kulthum picked up the sides of her dress, which she had layered over jeans, and curtseyed. "The one and only. I'm sure Asiya's told you all about me. Obsessed with me, she is, but not nearly as obsessed as she sounds about you," she grinned.

Yusuf's heart nearly danced out of his chest.

"Alright, don't spill your sister's secrets," Asiya's dad chuckled as he squeezed Kulthum's shoulders gently.

"Yusuf, please, take your shoes off, and feel free to make yourself at home," Asiya's mother warmly ordered as she motioned towards a door.

Because of his aunt's frequent visits, his home had often felt like an interrogation room—tight and tense, as if his every move could be scrutinised and used against him.

Years of batting back answers to the hostile, accusatory, 'man-building' questions his aunt had constantly hurled at him had prepared Yusuf for whatever Asiya's parents would throw at him.

Yusuf sat on the edge of the sofa. His posture was stiff, like a sculpture on display.

He was ready for Asiya's family to hack away at his answers, dismantle his sentences and peel away at him as they looked for signs and clues suggesting something about him wasn't right.

Asiya's family sat on the sofa opposite Yusuf. Her parents sat beside each other, their knees touching each other, while Kulthum perched herself on the armrest.

Asiya's parents asked Yusuf about his job, lifestyle, family, likes and dislikes, but their questioning wasn't nearly as intense as Yusuf had expected.

If they doubted Yusuf's answers, Asiya's parents never showed it. Their questioning was informal and relaxed, like a sleeper train moving through mountains, and they broke up their questions with jokes and casual conversations.

Yusuf shifted his body closer to the comfort of the sofa cushions as his spine slowly uncoiled, no longer tensing with needle-like nerves.

When the doorbell rang, Asiya's parents left to open the front door, and Yusuf allowed himself to fully deflate into the cushions behind him.

"Don't get too comfortable. Aminah's here now. Her questions will be worse," Kulthum smirked as she draped herself across the back of the sofa.

"Worse? Worse than what? Who? Who are you comparing me to, Kulthum?" another clone of Asiya's mum asked as she entered the room.

She was followed by a man who bent to get through the door. 

The man was muscular, and his body seemed to cast shadows across the living room as he moved through it. 

The baby he was carrying on his front almost looked premature against his chest.

Yusuf wiped his clammy palms against his knees to prepare for the handshake the man enthusiastically offered.

Please don't tell me Asiya has a brother she forgot to mention, he inwardly whimpered.

"Yusuf, this is Aminah, Asiya's older sister. Her husband Farooq and my gorgeous grandbaby Fawaz," Asiya's mum introduced brightly.

Yusuf's hand relaxed in Farooq's. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Farooq smiled.

"It'll be great having another guy in the family," Farooq looked down at Fawaz and shook the baby's tiny fist, "Isn't that right?"

"Whoa. No one's been given any permission for that to happen yet," Kulthum said from her corner.

"Yusuf may have even changed his mind now that he's met us," Asiya's mum joked, causing everyone to laugh.

Yusuf joined in quietly before Aminah started another round of questions, which was even lighter because of Fawaz's constant cries and dribbly distractions.

"So, what do you think about my sister?" Kulthum asked, her eyes narrowing.

Yusuf's eyes darted in the direction of Asiya's parents. "She's erm-er-Asiya is-I guess–"

"Er, uh, eh," Kulthum sounded with a smile. "You can't think of one nice thing to say about her?"

"He is trying to have haya, Kulthum. It's good to see," Aminah nodded approvingly.

Asiya had been right. Kulthum's tongue was loose and sharp, whereas Aminah's was stiffer.

Aminah listened more than Kulthum interrupted, her tongue moving sparingly but firmly. Aminah's tongue felt like a firm hand stopping someone from touching something, whereas Kulthum's came down like a whip and, for better or worse, ignited the room with her personality and humour.

Asiya seemed to be the perfect blend of her sisters. The equator. The median that balanced them out.

Asiya listened to people with her entire body. Her eyes would react as the story you told her progressed, but she would never interrupt or overpower the narrator. 

When Yusuf finished speaking, Asiya waited and made sure he had no leftover words before she spoke.

When Asiya spoke, Yusuf would feel bad for making her wait so long. Asiya spoke like she would never stop, and Yusuf didn't want her to.

Yusuf could imagine how conversations were seamlessly woven between Asiya and her sisters when they were together. 

Kulthum and Asiya's banter was similar, but Asiya's was a lot more tempered and didn't have Kulthum's childish chaos that Aminah seemed to take upon herself to tame.

He could see Asiya acting as a moderator between her sisters.

In this moment, everything about Asiya seemed perfect: her smile, her voice, her character, and her family. 

They were perfect. 

Exhibiting a healthy, playful, loving, carefree dynamic that Yusuf's family could never replicate even if they tried.

Imagining Asiya interacting with her family caused a pang to ring through Yusuf. 

He felt like he was missing out on something, and even though he may not have earned her, deserved her or even been destined for her, Yusuf suddenly felt desperate for Asiya.

He needed Asiya's dad to give him permission to propose so he could marry Asiya and experience her without the barriers of modesty.

"Right. We've starved Yusuf for long enough. Let's eat!" Asiya's mum grinned.

Asiya's family all had a similar vibrancy. Her sisters and parents radiated different colours of that infectious energy Yusuf was beginning to love about Asiya.

Just like Asiya, they used it selflessly.

They easily slipped Yusuf into their conversations and jokes, treating and referring to him as an extension of themselves rather than a guest, like Yusuf was visiting home after years of being away. It made every bite of his food taste sweeter.

"Yusuf, we like you," Asiya's mum said as Yusuf placed the mugs of tea he had made for everyone in the middle of the table.

Asiya's dad picked up a mug and hummed into his cup.

The dining table had been cleared. Asiya's sisters had gone upstairs to change Fawaz, and Farooq had left to take a work call.

"I can see why Asiya likes you," Sharifah continued. "However, I can't say I'm entirely on board. I would say no if you asked for permission to propose to Asiya now."

Yusuf tried his best to not sink into his seat, but it was as though Asiya's mum had cut his ligaments. He placed his hands on his lap and wove his fingers together.

"You and Asiya are basically the same age. I'm told you might not have a job in a few weeks, and we've had no word from your family or your mother," Sharifah said. "As a mother, I can't help but worry about all these uncertainties."

Yusuf understood her concern. He explained that his job was always temporary. It was a trainee position, something he needed to do before he could start practising as a solicitor.

He tried his best to convince Asiya's mum that even if his firm didn't retain him, he could look after Asiya while searching for a new job. His firm had been paying him a hefty salary throughout his training contract, most of which Yusuf had managed to save because scholarships and bursaries had meant Yusuf had graduated without any debt.

"And your mum?" Asiya's dad blinked at him.

"We'll need to meet your family," Asiya's mum said plainly. "Ideally, we'd have already met them, connected with them, built a relationship with them, and confirmed that everything was okay with them. I know you're a man, but Islamically, this is preferable."

"Someone at the mosque pointed out one of your uncles. I've been trying to catch him after the salahs to speak to him and arrange something, but I've had no luck. He seems like a busy guy," Asiya's dad informed.

"This is important though, Yusuf. The marriage process and the families building a relationship should be something that time is made for," Asiya's mum said.

Yusuf nodded vigorously, hoping his movements alone would convince them of his agreement.

"I'm sorry for the loss of your father. Ina ilahi wa ina ilayhi raji'un," Asiya's dad said softly. "You don't need your parent's permission, but–"

"I will not allow my daughter to get married to a man without knowing his family first." Asiya's mum sliced through Abdul-Rahman's sentence.

Yusuf wanted to speak, but he could barely breathe. 

His lungs were dormant. His breath was suspended in his throat. 

All the information Asiya's parents were giving him felt like punches, but he was a sucker for a different reason.

He had expected this. Imam Abdullah had warned him of this. If Yusuf had a daughter, he would also be saying this.

"Yusuf, I'm sure you understand," Asiya's dad said.

"I do." Yusuf cleared his throat before continuing. "You'll hear from my mum, InshAllah. She's eager for me to get married. Communication has been slow because I've been slow, and she follows my lead."

-

Authors Note: Asalamu Alaykum, Hello everyone! Yusuf has met Asiya's parents which was supposed to be the difficult bit but in reality, I think they were quite on him, what do you think?

Can't even imagine the day my future husband meets my parents (when he decides to show up 😐 I am already cringing LOL!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Feel free to let me know what you think in the comments or dm! Please vote and share the story with your fellow peeps! Speak to you soon InshAllah!

-

Chapter Glossary

Bismillah: Arabic term. It means in the name of God.

Allah: The One God.

Haya: Modesty.

Salah: Arabic Term. it means prayer. 

Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un: It means, surely we belong to Allah and to Him we shall return. It is said when someone has died.

Jazakallah Khair: A way of saying thank you. May Allah reward you with good.

Mosque: A place where Muslims pray. 

Hijab: A head covering worn by Muslim women. Hijab is meant to cover your hair, ears, neck and chest.

InshAllah: Arabic term. God Willing.

Asalamu Alaykum: Arabic greeting. It means peace be upon you.

Wa Alaykum Salam: Arabic response to the above. It means, and unto you peace.