Present Day

How does one move on from that?

Yet here I am, preparing for my second meeting with a potential spouse.

Ease can come after some of the worst hardships, and we have to let that ease in. And that is what I'm doing after much thought. I can't keep myself locked up in the past as that would damage mine and Isa's future. Before Isa was born, all I could think about was how he'd never have a father. But he can. And that was up to me. I still believe no one can live of the standards of Isa's father, but there were some good men out there and perhaps it would be good for myself to have a mahram again. I have uncle Ijaz but he's elderly and he has his own family to look out for. Besides, when I go Hajj, I can't ask him to leave his wife, children and grandchildren behind to accompany me. That would be unfair on him.

The first meeting was a failure. I didn't even meet guy but I already knew he wasn't the one for me. He had come around our house and I was in the kitchen, preparing some food. I told Isa to go to Imran and I told Eliza to inform Imran about how I wanted the potential to meet and approve of Isa first. After Isa met him, he came into the kitchen and I bent down to his level.

"How's the man?" I asked him.

"I don't like him," Isa said, pouting.

"Why?" I asked, surprised at his response. Isa usually got on with everyone so well.

"He was looking at me," Isa explained.

"What's wrong with that?"

"I didn't like it." I decided on asking Imran on what was going on instead.

"Hey, Eliza, text Imran to come here for a second," I said, pulling my niqab on again and opening the kitchen door. A couple of minutes later, Imran entered.

"What's up?"

"What does Isa mean by the man was looking at him? And why doesn't he like him?" I asked.

"He was just studying Isa and then he asked about his skin colour and I had to explain about his father. He's a little blunt with how he speaks I guess," Imran said and I made up my mind.

"Tell him it's a no from me. Sorry," I said, leaving the food I was making and taking a seat in a chair next to Isa.

"Give him a chance. Maybe he's just not good with first impressions," Imran said but I was feeling stubborn.

"Let Isa go and sit with him again," Eliza suggested and Ummi agreed.

"Then you make sure he doesn't make Isa feel uncomfortable!" I said, pointing at Imran.

"Yes sir," Imran replied.

"You're so lucky brother in laws aren't mahrams otherwise you'd have a black eye by now," I said, annoyed he called me sir. Imran just laughed at me before taking Isa's hand and walking back to the man.

"You're threatening my husband?" Eliza said, feigning a serious expression.

"Yeah, and what? What are you going to do?"

"Join in with you and threaten him too," Eliza said with a mischievous grin. "He always used to complain about how I took your side in your arguments back in the days. I wanna relive that."

"Thought so," I replied grinning back. We began talking about the good old days when Isa returned.

"I don't like him," Isa said, looking up at me with sad eyes.

"Why?" I asked, concerned.

"I tried to talk to him but he was ignoring me," Isa complained.

"He was doing what?" Nobody ignores my Isa! "If you don't like him, then my decision is made," I said, stroking Isa's hair. Eliza tried to talk me out of it when we heard the door of the front room opening and we quickly closed the kitchen door. Then, we heard voices and the door open and shut. Soon, Imran knocked on the kitchen door and we let him in.

"What did you make of him?" I asked.

"The guy's a bit strange to be honest. He said he's a bit unsure about being a father to Isa. I told him I'll talk to you about it and let him know. What do you say? Do you want to get to know him further?"

"No way. Isa comes first!" I couldn't agree to get to know a man who was unsure about being a fatherly figure to Isa! The others agreed and that was that.

I'm hoping this meeting will be completely different to that one. I can't believe that I'm having my second meeting so quickly. Then again, Ummi paid a match maker to find potential suitors for me which I find embarrassing. But usually, it's people like me who pay people to find suitors. People who find it difficult to find a potential spouse. It's probably a good way to find someone compatible.

Like last time, I'm in the kitchen cooking food. Last time, the man said he had to go and Imran didn't stop him. We didn't even get to serving anything beyond drinks. This time we started cooking early. I think it's quite unnecessary to make so much food for one person. I wonder if a potential will come with his family. All these people seem to be coming alone. Then again, I'm not a twenty year old girl looking for a guy in his early twenties who lives with his family. I expect that my new husband will have gone through something similar to myself. Maybe he's been divorced or widowed or he was going through a tough time which prevented him from marrying.

"Are you sure you'll stay in England if he wants you to?" Ummi asks me again. We had discussed this before but I was very unsure. But recently, my doubts have started clearing.

"Only if he's really good," I reply. "Whatever is best for Isa." Ideally, I want to go back to Pakistan as that's mine and Isa's home. But I'm beginning to think about the lack of good older men willing to marry someone like me. If I go back to Pakistan, I want to stay in my village where Isa is known. But I don't think there are many potentials there as far as I know. I've decided to lower my standards and agree to stay in England if I marry someone here but only if he has an excellent character and will let me visit Pakistan often.

There's a good chance that I won't find someone in my visit to England which is shortening each day. I now have around one month until Isa and are due to go back. One month seems like a really short amount of time to find a spouse and we all know there's a good chance I won't find anyone but Ummi is determined to search for me. She has even phoned up Inayah and had her line up potential suitors for me for when I return. She's really keen on having me settle down again. She claims that's the only way she can feel content with the security and future of her grandson. She doesn't believe that I can give as much security as a father can, though I've been taking care of Isa on my own for the past five years. Then again, being a mother myself now, I can understand her worries so I try not to argue back.

The doorbell rings and I question why I feel indifferent. Shouldn't I feel nervous? Or excited? Or at least something! But I feel as if this will be another person, just coming and going after eating some food.

I put some mint as the last ingredient in the blender and turn the blender on to make some mint chutney. I look back at Isa and smile, seeing he has his fingers in his ears. I turn the blender off and apologise to him.

"Mama, don't put that on again please. It's scary," Isa says and my heart melts.

"Put your hands over your ears just one more time," I say, finding lumps in the chutney. Isa sticks his fingers in his ears again and I feel guilty as I press the 'on' button on the blender.

"That sound's not scary but it is annoying," Eliza says, pacing the kitchen while holding Sami.

"Well the best things, like mint chutney, require some sacrifice," I tell her. Eliza just ignores me.

"Isa, do you want to go upstairs and play with Farah?" Eliza asks and Isa shakes his head. Eliza walks over to me and whispers, "Does he actually like doing homework?" I look over at Isa again, hunched over a piece of paper, answering questions I'd written for him after the book we read together.

"That's not homework! I may be a teacher, and I may push him in his studies, but I promise that he enjoys these things. My little genius," I say proudly.

"What an amazingly strange child," Eliza says and I laugh. Only Eliza can get away with saying such things.

"Are you jealous?"

"Why on earth would I be jealous? I just worry that his childhood isn't as fun as it should be since he's always reading and writing. And you make him do Maths!"

"I'm telling you, he enjoys it! He's always been like that. Don't you remember when he was a toddler and everyone started calling him parrot because he'd repeat whatever he heard?" I reminded her. "He loves to learn."

"I remember his parrot phase! That was so cute! You were like that too as a kid. Though you weren't as smart."

"I know. He's a few years ahead of the others in his class, masha'Allah," I say, smiling.

"He's a few years ahead of more kids than the ones in his class," Eliza comments and I agree.

I tell Eliza to text Imran to come and take the food for the guest who we learn was coming on his own. I pull my niqab down when there's a knock on the kitchen door and I tell Isa to follow Imran to the front room.

"Wait, what's he like?" Eliza asks Imran.

"Well, he's a student visiting from Bangladesh," Imran says.

"Didn't the sister who set this up say he was nearing forty? A forty year old student?" I ask, remembering what little information was given to us. "She said he's in the field of business."

"Well he said he's here to do an MA in Business," Imran says and I start to feel suspicious. Then I dismiss it and decide that I'll let Isa make his decision before I make up my mind about wanting to know him further.

"Try and pry some more information out of him!" Eliza says enthusiastically.

"I'm trying! I don't want to come across as some creep," Imran says and takes a step forward to pull on Eliza's nose, something he's been doing to annoy her for years. Eliza takes Sami's leg and pokes Imran.

"That's right Sami, defend your mother," She says and Imran grins at her. I look between them, while their eyes are staring into each other's and I remember that feeling. Just the feeling of comfort with the one you love. I feel myself wanting that again.

"I'll head back now. Come on, Isa," Imran says, taking the tray of food.

I shake myself out of my sudden thoughts, blocking all those weird feelings out while I take a seat at the small table in the corner of the kitchen as I begin to go through Isa's answers on the work sheet he left, waiting for his return. I finish marking it too quickly and I'm left thinking again.

What's wrong with me?

I'm preparing for a huge step in life and I'm not feeling getting any of those feelings like I should be. I can't help but block any sort of hope and excitement out. It's like a part of me believes, or rather knows, nothing will be happening soon. These potentials will come, and we'll find differences and they'll go again. I was lucky enough to find Isa's father quickly, but I had friends who had been looking for spouses for years before they found someone suitable. How was I, a widow with a son, going to find someone while in England? Maybe when I return to Pakistan, I'll find someone. Either way, I've given in for Ummi's sake. Who knows, maybe the man in the front room is my future husband.

A little while later, Isa comes back.

"Mama, I need my helicopter!" Isa says.

"Why?"

"Because my new uncle wants to see it." New uncle?

"It's at home," I tell him.

"Oh, okay," He says, skipping back to his new uncle.

I turn around to see Eliza smirking at me, a teasing glint in her eye. I shrug in response.

After dessert has been served, Imran tells us that it's time for me to meet him. Ummi and Eliza both accompany me and I walk towards the room in which he's sat.

The three of us take a seat on the sofa opposite the man, whose name I learnt is Shams, and I try avoiding looking at him. I feel kind of awkward and guilty.

"Asalamu'alaykum," Shams says and the three of us reply,

"Wa'alaykumusalaam." There's a short silence before Shams speaks up.

"Your son is very cute, masha'Allah," He says and instantly earns some points from me, though he has a very strong accent.

"Thank you," I say. I bring myself to look up at him and I see that he's average looking. He has tanned skin and dark hair with wisps of grey. His beard is short and he's awfully skinny.

"So I hear you've opened a school in Pakistan?" He asks and I nod. "That's good." There's another silence again.

"So why are you doing your MA so late? And why aren't you married yet?" I ask and I feel Ummi pinch my side, probably to tell me to act more shy. But I had a right to get to know this man.

"Well, I was engaged for a long time before, but then I decided I didn't want to marry her," He says and I interrupt him.

"Do you speak Urdu?" I ask, struggling to fully understand him.

"A little bit," He responds.

"If you don't mind, can you speak in Urdu please?" Ummi pinches me again and I see why. Shams looks offended.

"Okay."

"You may continue. Why didn't you want to marry her?"

"She was uneducated and too simple for my liking. Besides, I made up my mind about moving to England or America a long time ago," He says and I nod.

"So why are you studying so late?"

"I decided this was the best way to come to England." I feel a little suspicious and decide to be blunt, though I know Ummi will be pinching me again.

"Is your visa expiring?" I ask and Shams looks taken aback.

"Yes, so I'd like to get married very soon," He admits. Usually, it was younger Indians and Pakistanis who I found in this situation. This was interesting.

"I'm afraid I plan on moving back to Pakistan," I say, hoping that wouldn't be a problem. I mean, we have Bangladeshi neighbours there and Bangladesh isn't so different to Pakistan as far as I know. Maybe he'd be willing to move there with me?

"Oh," Shams says. The silence which follows is an awkward one. Then Shams makes an absurd suggestion. "Well, we can marry and I'll stay here while you go there."

"No way!" I say and this time, Ummi doesn't pinch me. From his suggestion, it seems that all he's looking for is a method to stay in the country. Unfortunately, I don't want to be used in such a way. "I think we'll leave now." I get up and Shams stops me.

"Wait! Can I at least see your face?" He asks and I put a hand over my niqab, as if to protect it before I run out of the room, grabbing Isa along the way.

I tell Isa to go upstairs and play with Farah while I make my way to the kitchen and slump into a chair.

"We're bound to meet a few weirdos until the right one comes," Eliza says, entering the kitchen and I sigh.

"I was hopeful of him in the first few minutes of that meeting," I say, feeling upset.

"We'll find someone good for you, in'sha'Allah," Ummi says, taking a seat next to me.

"In'sha'Allah," I reply, surprising myself. Does this mean I want to find someone? I still hadn't done a du'a to find a husband soon as I didn't think I wanted one. But I think I do. I think I finally want a man's love and comfort and his security, the way Eliza has Imran's.

Now I'm beginning to realise Allah's mercy. Time is a mercy from Allah. He heals our hearts from the worst pains. Through his mercy, I can move on. And I can feel contentment instead of guilt.

I will never forget Isa's father, but I think I finally truly want to marry again. And not only for Isa's sake, but for myself too.