Arranged Imperfectly

Chapter 4 Don't Lose Hope

Mrs Muskan.

After a long time, I was overjoyed to have one of my duas (supplications) accepted. How long will he stay away from me? we are living under one roof.

I staggered back a little as he stared back at me and said, "I asked you a question."

"Yes, but..."I fumbled with my fingers, trying to explain myself. I became aware that he had a lot of false impressions of me without even looking up at him. I had not even touched any of his belongings when I went to clean his office.

"You understand that no one, including you, has the right to enter my personal office?" I jerked back and looked at him, holding back my tears as he yelled at me. I had become a mess for some months.

I used to be able to go days without crying, but the Muskans I knew never cried at all. He spoke harshly.

"Yeah," I agreed and stood there waiting for him to say something, but a knock interrupted us.

His mother called us and smiled, "Let us go have lunch," and I nodded.

Imad simply went to give his mother a hug; in an instant, his attitude changed, and I was impressed.

"Do not you ever say a word to my parents about what is going on between us," he said in a voice that was both familiar and distant at the same time.

How could I have been so wrong? I thought we had improved somewhat.

****

Dad and Imad had gone to the office while me and mom stayed back.

"What's disturbing you?" mom(Imad's mom)inquired but I just smiled at her and informed her nothing was wrong but I guess she understood.

"I know my son and something has been bothering him," she said in a painful tone.

"Did you two fight?" she asked and I just looked down.

"I don't know mom, I just don't know how to win his heart, "I explained to her everything from the start and she listened extremely cautiously I felt like I was explaining to my own mother.

I missed my mom and dad and Imad had informed me dad was coming for weekend.

"He will come around," she kissed my forehead and that meant the world to me.

"Have you started praying namaz?" she asked me while wiping my tears. How did I become so lucky to have such a loving mother in law?

"Yeah I have, "I informed her and she gave me a quiet smile.

"Qur'an?" she asked and I just looked at her, I felt so regretful It had been months since I last opened and recited Holy Qur' an(a holy book). I had been spending time with social apps a lot rather than reciting some Duas and Qur'an.

"Don't bother as long as you have realized your faults. Allah always gives us chances, "she stated and I looked at her with a wide smile.

"Imad enjoys reciting the Qur'an at night. You can ask him to pray with you or stay up late; in fact, I will be telling you what he loves and what he doesn't, so we will be taking baby steps," she stated, seemingly with this intention in mind.

As she told me how he and his dad met, she added, "Imad's dad was also not someone easy to win over."

She said, "He had sent me a proposal because his family picked me, and the guy ignored me like a plague even though he liked me, but still, we were like foreigners in one house for months," to which I nodded in agreement.

I nodded in agreement as she watched me intently and said, "Do not lose hope, me and his dad are with you."

I was at a loss for words as she went on to explain, "Remember that nobody is perfect, and whatever happened to you was a way of Allah showing you indications to change your ways, to guide you. Do not mull over your past from now on, be confident. Your scars beautify you, they describe how strong you have been and I am sure Imad knows that and he is just giving you hard time. Do not back away. She is truly a gem of a person, and while I was listening to my friends' married stories, I had terrible thoughts about some of my in-laws.

Every day brings with it new opportunities and, in times of despair, remember that Allah is with you. You receive so much and yet you grumble. Take chances and give them a try.

I nodded as she said brightly, "Wash away your insecurities."

"Let us head to the kitchen and start preparing the evening meal," she said, taking my hand gently in hers.

"Today, I will give you a brief explanation of Imad's favorite evening meal. You will prepare it, but we will not tell him. Let us see how he responds and remember to pray at night." I nodded in response to her question, and after we finished, we both sat and waited for them. Mom was beaming, and I was sitting there apprehensive. I had never waited for anyone before, but now I found myself doing so for the first time—for my husband, who is very special to me.

We were distracted from our conversation by a buzz at the door, which we both stared at. My mother pushed me to go open it, but I walked slowly, wondering why they did not have the keys to their own home. My heart was racing, and I had no control over it.

I never waited for him at meals, and I never unlocked the door for him.

My eyes expanded as soon as I opened the door. All I received in return for my wide-eyed stare was a blank one.

They did not even look at me as they said, "Assalamualeikum," and ushered us into the room.

"Waleikusmalam," we replied, and at last, dad gave me a smile.

Imad was absorbed in her company.

"Mom! "Introducing my new business partner," he told his mother. Everyone was engrossed in conversation about business, including his dad and mother. Occasionally, my dad would glance my way, but I would smile and not worry him.

Mom finally looked at me and said, "Let us pray Isha and then dinner." I nodded.

The girl had left after they returned from the masjid because she had an urgent matter to attend to.

"Today's food has a different taste," Imad's father said, and I was not sure if that was a compliment or not.

"It is delicious," his father said, and I nodded, assuming he knew who had prepared it.

"Muskan prepared dinner today," mom informed them. I stared at her, but she just gestured with her hand to calm down.

Imad was so caught up in his thoughts that he had not touched his food or looked at me.

"Imad, why are you not eating your food?" Mom questioned him.

"There is no taste in the food, and how can I swallow tasteless food?" he responded, wiping his mouth with a tissue and marching away quickly.

I simply looked away nervously. I lost my appetite and dashed to the kitchen.

I sensed a presence beside me.

"Do not give up hope, maybe he had a bad day. Take this for him," dad said, and I nodded, still smiling.

I knocked on the door, and it no longer felt like our room; after all, it was his.

"Come in," I heard a deep voice, and my hands trembled from his outbursts, which terrified me.

Ya Allah, help me!