Aonat’s dilemma

The Conversation We Couldn’t Avoid

Chapter Eighteen

Aonat’s POV

All morning my mind refused to rest.

Even when I tried to distract myself with small things — helping Mama arrange the sitting room, checking my phone, pretending to read — the same thought kept returning.

Zaydan.

The agreement had already been made.

Two weeks.

Two weeks until the nikah.

Everyone in the family seemed calm about it. Happy, even.

But inside me there was a quiet storm I couldn’t silence.

Zaydan had always been someone I respected from a distance.

He was older. More serious. Disciplined in a way that made people straighten when he entered a room.

Growing up, he had never been the playful cousin.

He was the one people lowered their voices around.

And now—

I was supposed to marry him.

The thought made my stomach twist.

By midday, the anxiety became too heavy to ignore.

I picked up my phone and stared at his number for a long time.

Should I call?

Should I wait?

What if he thought I was being childish?

But if I didn’t speak to him now… how would I face a lifetime of silence?

I inhaled slowly.

Then pressed call.

The phone rang only once before he answered.

“Wa alaykum salam.”

His voice was calm.

Deep.

Immediately my courage shrank.

“Assalamalaykum… ya Zaydan.”

There was a small pause.

Then he spoke again, quieter this time.

“Wa alaykum salam, Aonat.”

My fingers tightened around the phone.

“How did you know it was me?”

I asked the question timidly, almost embarrassed.

I heard a faint breath of amusement on the other end.

“Who calls me ‘ya Zaydan’ like that?” he replied.

Heat rushed to my face even though he couldn’t see me.

I swallowed.

“I… I wanted to talk to you.”

“About the marriage.”

It wasn’t a question.

He already knew.

“Yes.”

Another short silence passed.

Then he said calmly,

“Come tomorrow. I’ll make a reservation at a restaurant near my office.”

My heart skipped.

“A restaurant?”

“Yes.”

His tone was simple, practical.

“I’ll send my driver to pick you up.”

I hesitated.

“I can come myself—”

“No.”

The word wasn’t harsh, but it was firm.

“My driver will pick you.”

And somehow, even through the phone, I could feel the authority in his voice.

“Okay,” I whispered.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he said.

Then the line ended.

I stared at my phone for a long moment.

For the first time since the proposal—

I felt truly nervous.

Zaydan’s POV

When I ended the call, I leaned back in my chair.

The office was quiet except for the faint sound of the air conditioner humming.

Aonat wanted to talk.

I already knew why.

Fear.

Uncertainty.

Perhaps even regret.

None of that surprised me.

She was young.

But I wasn’t interested in a marriage built on silence and unspoken discomfort.

If she had doubts, it was better we addressed them now.

Before the nikah.

Before promises were spoken before Allah.

I opened my laptop again, but my mind drifted.

To her voice.

Soft.

Nervous.

Still the same little cousin I remembered running through family gatherings years ago.

Except she wasn’t a child anymore.

And tomorrow, we would speak as two adults whose lives were about to become one.

Aonat’s POV

The next day felt unreal.

I stood in front of the mirror longer than usual.

My wardrobe suddenly seemed full of the wrong choices.

Too bright.

Too casual.

Too childish.

Finally I chose a long dress.

Simple.

Modest.

But when I wore it, the fabric followed the shape of my body more closely than I realized.

I hesitated.

Should I change?

But the driver had already arrived.

So I grabbed my purse and left.

The ride to the restaurant felt too short.

By the time the car stopped, my heart was racing.

The driver opened the door.

“He is already inside, madam.”

I nodded quietly.

Then stepped into the restaurant.

My eyes searched the room.

And immediately found him.

Zaydan sat near the window, his posture straight, his expression calm.

When he looked up and saw me—

Something shifted in his eyes.

For a brief moment, he simply stared.

Then he stood.

And walked toward me.

Zaydan’s POV

When she walked in, I almost didn’t recognize her.

Not because she looked different.

But because I had never looked at her like this before.

The dress was modest.

But fitted.

Too fitted.

It followed the curve of her waist and hips in a way that made several men in the restaurant glance up.

My jaw tightened.

I walked toward her slowly.

“You look beautiful.”

Her eyes widened slightly.

“Thank you.”

I studied her for a moment.

Then added calmly,

“But the dress is too fitted.”

She blinked.

“What?”

“It attracts attention,” I said simply. “From men who should not be looking at you.”

The shock on her face was immediate.

For a moment she looked like she didn’t know whether to laugh or protest.

Instead she sat down quietly.

And I could already tell—

This conversation was going to be uncomfortable.

Aonat’s POV

I had expected Zaydan to be serious.

But not this blunt.

We hadn’t even sat down properly before he criticized my dress.

My fingers twisted together nervously.

After the waiter brought water and left, I finally spoke.

“I wanted to talk about… the marriage.”

“I assumed.”

His voice was calm.

Steady.

I took a deep breath.

“There’s something I wanted to ask.”

“Go on.”

I looked down at my hands.

“I was thinking…”

My throat tightened.

“What if… our marriage could be more… conservative?”

His eyebrow lifted slightly.

“Explain.”

I forced myself to continue.

“What if we keep it respectful… in front of the family… but privately we just… give each other space.”

He didn’t speak.

So I rushed to clarify.

“I mean—no pressure. No expectations. Just… pretending for the family.”

The moment the words left my mouth—

Silence fell.

And when I looked up again, the expression on Zaydan’s face had changed completely.

Zaydan’s POV

For a moment I thought I had misheard her.

“A pretence marriage?”

She looked embarrassed but nodded slightly.

“No physical contact,” she added quietly. “Just appearances.”

I leaned back in my chair slowly.

And studied her carefully.

Then I spoke.

“Aonat.”

My voice was calm.

But firm.

“That will not happen.”

Her eyes widened.

“I am not interested in deceiving myself, my family, or Allah.”

The words came out steady.

Measured.

“If I marry, I marry properly.”

Her cheeks flushed.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know exactly what you meant.”

I leaned forward slightly.

“If there is anything that comes with marriage — responsibility, companionship, intimacy — it will exist in my marriage.”

Her breathing became shallow.

“So if you are not ready for that,” I continued quietly, “you are free to go to your father and refuse the proposal.”

I paused.

“You have nothing to fear from me.”

Then I sat back.

And signaled the waiter.

“Let’s order.”

Aonat’s POV

My head was spinning.

He said it so plainly.

So directly.

No anger.

No hesitation.

Just certainty.

And somehow… that certainty scared me more than anything.

We ate mostly in silence.

When the meal ended, he stood.

“I need to return to the office.”

He looked at me briefly.

“My driver will take you home.”

Then he left.

Just like that.

I sat in the car on the way back feeling completely overwhelmed.

By the time I reached home, I needed someone to talk to.

So I called Maheen.

The moment she answered, I told her everything.

Every word.

Every detail.

There was a long silence when I finished.

Then she groaned loudly.

“Aonat!”

“What?”

“Why would you ask him that?”

“I was nervous!”

“That is not nervous,” she said sharply. “That is insulting.”

My stomach dropped.

“You suggested a fake marriage to a man who takes his responsibilities seriously.”

I rubbed my forehead.

“I didn’t think about it like that.”

“Well start thinking,” she said firmly.

“You should apologize.”

“Apologize?”

“Yes,” she insisted.

“He was honest with you. The least you can do is respect that.”

I stared at my phone quietly.

Maybe she was right.

Maybe I had made things worse.

And now—

I had to fix it.