Chapter 7

Usman's POV

I jogged up the stairs and started down the hallway, then I saw all the parents in the TV room, doors closed and serious looks on their faces. Nervousness welled in me because I knew exactly what they were talking about and I was scared of what they were saying about the subject.

I turned away, went to my room.

My mind began to race, imagining a million different answers that Amaya's parents might be giving. They might be saying yes, or maybe, or we need more time, or never, or probably, or anything and everything else. I was terrified of all the answers.

"Hey bro,"

I almost jumped at the sound of Husain's voice.

"Hey," my voice was more of a whimper or whisper than actual speech. So I cleared my throat, then repeated, "Hey."

He chuckled, "You nervous?"

"Extremely."

"Don't worry, Usman. Look, if she says yes, great. And if she says no, then, well, it's for the best."

"It's that 'if', though, that's the problem."

"I seriously can't believe I'm saying this, it's so cheesy, but--" he sighed, "Any girl would be lucky to have you, man. So if she's right for you, she will say yes."

I smiled a little at the awkwardness of his attempt to pump me up.

"Thanks, bro." I acknowledged.

He grinned at me, sat down beside me on the bed.

"What do you think of her?" I asked.

He smiled, "I think she's great person."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. She's kind and funny and strong," then he smirked, "Pretty too."

I wasn't sure how I felt about the last comment.

"Are you sure you don't want to marry her?" I joked, but there was a part of me that was a little jealous of the way he talked about her.

"And, introducing... Mr. Jealous! A round of applause please!" he mocked in an announcers voice, clapping his hands together.

I rolled my eyes, feeling relief course through me at his obvious lack of romantic feelings.

"Don't worry," he said, "Seriously, Usman. She's amazing, but I don't like her that way."

It was my turn to smirk, "Are you too busy liking someone else in 'that way'?"

"What...?" he was flustered.

This surprised me because it proved that he actually did have feelings for someone. I'd only been joking, but I could see in the red of his cheeks and the sheepishness of his smile that he was hiding something.

"Who is it Husain?"

"No one!"

I stared at him.

"Fine," he admitted, "There's a girl at uni."

"What's her name? And is she Muslim? I swear, Husain, if she's not Muslim--"

"She's Muslim. Her name is Nusaiba."

"Good, I didn't want to have to defend you against Ami when she finds out."

"Look, it's not a big deal, okay? Also, you'd better not tell anyone or I'll punch you in the face."

"I won't, don't worry." I agreed, "Well, what's she like?"

"She's really smart and loud and happy. And she's beautiful."

"Lower your gaze, bro," I laughed.

"You're one to talk," he retorted, "You've been staring at Amaya all weekend."

I nearly blushed at this.

"It's not my fault, okay?" I defended, "She's just..."

"Just...?"

"Beautiful."

"Aww," he crooned teasingly, "My big brother's in love!"

"Shut up."

"Mhmm," he smirked again.

"I have some work to do, Husain," I said, less because I really did and more because I wanted him gone, "Get out."

"Fine, yeesh," he laughed and walked out, hands raised in surrender.

I turned to my desk.

Outside my room, I heard footsteps, then Maryam's voice, and a second later, Amaya's. The sound forced an image of her into my mind.

She was, as I'd said, beautiful. Her features were dark, but her cheeks were pink and her eyes big in a way that gave her a face a sweet quality. When she spoke, her eyebrows moved and her eyes waxed and waned expressively. Those eyes were a dark gray, that was, at first look, simple, but really very deep and real and detailed. Her lips were a perfect pastel red or pink and she had a smile that was simple and solid.

There was something about the way that she held herself, confident and assured, that both intimidated and attracted me. She was charismatic, and she talked easily with everyone, but she could also often be found completely silent, staring at a wall, obviously deep in thought.

She always had kindness and strength in her eyes, both together, mingling and competing. I'd only once seen those emotions be hidden, drowned by fury. This had been just after a phone call, one that I did not know the details of at all, but that had clearly angered her.