When morning comes
897 Words
Chapter nine
Aonat’s POV
The waiting was worse than the deadline.
All day, I checked my phone.
Between lectures.
Between conversations.
Between breaths.
No message.
No call.
Every vibration that wasn’t his made my heart sink a little
By evening, anxiety had turned physical. My stomach ached, my chest tight. I kept replaying our conversation beneath the tree.
I’ll talk to them tonight.
He had sounded serious.
Committed.
But there had been something else too.
Hesitation.
Maghrib came and went. I prayed longer than usual, whispering duas I hadn’t memorized but felt deeply.
Ya Allah, if this is good for me, make it easy. If it is not, give me strength.
My phone remained silent.
By 9 p.m., I sat on the edge of my bed staring at the screen.
Nothing.
My mind began its cruel work.
What if his parents laughed?
What if they refused immediately?
What if he realized this was too heavy?
What if I was the only one terrified?
I typed a message.
How did it go?
I erased it.
If he wanted to tell me, he would.
By 11 p.m., I couldn’t sit still anymore. I paced my room. I imagined him sitting with his parents. I imagined their faces. I imagined disappointment. I imagined anger.
I imagined him changing his mind.
Midnight came.
Still nothing.
My chest ached in a way I didn’t know hearts could ache.
Around 1 a.m., exhaustion forced me into bed. But sleep did not come easily. Every small sound made me check my phone again.
Empty screen.
Empty notifications.
Empty reassurance.
I fell asleep sometime before Fajr, with the phone still in my hand.
And in my dreams, someone was always walking away from me.
Wadhud’s POV
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
After his father’s final no, Wadhud had retreated to his room without another word. His mother had knocked once, gently, but he had said he needed to think.
Now he sat on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the floor.
Marriage is not emotion. It is responsibility.
His father’s words replayed with uncomfortable clarity.
He wasn’t angry.
He wasn’t even shocked.
Deep down, he had known this was coming.
Twenty-two.
Final year.
No job.
No savings.
No plan.
What exactly had he been offering?
He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.
When he imagined marriage, he imagined companionship. Support. Soft conversations. Growing together.
He hadn’t imagined rent.
Or bills.
Or standing in front of another father and promising provision he could not guarantee.
His father’s disappointment stung more than the refusal.
I did not raise you to chase what you cannot sustain.
Was he chasing?
Or was he just holding onto something he wasn’t ready to carry?
He stood and paced his room slowly.
Could he fight his parents? Yes.
Could he insist? Maybe.
But would that magically make him prepared?
No.
He thought about Aonat’s tears when she told him about the deadline.
He cared about her. Every part of him did. But caring wasn’t enough. Could he provide? Could he promise stability he didn’t yet have? Doubt gnawed at him, relentless”
That was true.
But caring and capability were not the same thing.
He sat back down and pressed his palms over his face.
Another thought surfaced — one he had been avoiding.
Was he ready?
Not ready because of money.
But ready because of choice.
The truth felt uncomfortable.
He liked her.
He enjoyed her presence.
But had he ever pictured himself becoming a husband right now?
Fully?
No.
The thought felt heavy. Restrictive. Final.
And something inside him resisted being cornered by a deadline.
One month.
It felt like pressure.
And he did not like pressure.
He did not like being forced into something because time demanded it.
He wanted to move at his own pace. Build first. Become something first.
Was that selfish?
Maybe.
But it was honest.
He lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling.
If he went against his parents, it would create tension at home.
If he insisted on marrying now, he would be stepping into responsibility without foundation.
And if he agreed with them…
He would lose her.
Silence filled the room.
Slowly, painfully, clarity began to form.
This wasn’t just about his parents refusing.
Even if they had said yes, he wasn’t fully ready either.
The realization sat in his chest like a stone.
He wasn’t ready to be a husband.
Not yet.
And he would not allow himself to be pushed into something he didn’t feel prepared for — not by her father, not by his, not by circumstance.
He cared about Aonat.
But he also cared about becoming stable first.
And right now, those two paths did not align.
Fajr approached.
He had not slept.
His decision settled quietly in his mind.
Not dramatic.
Not explosive.
Just steady.
He reached for his phone.
Paused.
Not now.
She was probably asleep.
He placed it down again and waited for the call to prayer to finish.
Morning light slowly crept into his room.
He picked up the phone.
This time, he didn’t hesitate.
He dialed her number.
The call rang once.
Twice.
Three times.
He inhaled deeply.
And when she answered — her voice thick with sleep and hope —
He spoke calmly.
“Aonat… we need to talk.”
- Writer
