A little earlier than usual end of week update for you lovely people! Super excited for the long weekend (Labor Day on Monday for us Aussies 😝) so I might even update again very soon!!!

Dedicated to Your_Bus_Driver for driving me to school every day! (jks she's not actually my bus driver haha! 😆)

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I was a little nervous about attending the mosque Friday night, because there was always the big possibility of seeing Zaid there. But my nerves dissipated as soon as I reunited with Fatima. I hadn't seen her in over two weeks, and to say I missed her was an understatement.

"Oh, I am so glad to see you, Fatima!" I rushed into her arms and hugged her tight, murmuring into her hijab, "Do you know how much I love you, habibti?"

"I'm definitely feeling the love," Fatima grunted, and I chuckled, loosening my grip and holding her at arm's length. Her salmon pink hijab really brought out the brown in her irises, and after being separated from her for so long, I felt like I was memorizing her face all over again.

"It is a crime to keep us apart," I said as I slung my arm around her, heading towards the women's section of the mosque.

"It certainly is," Fatima agreed.

I spotted Yasmine and dragged Fatima with me towards her so we could pray next to each other. Zeinab was already there, conversing with my best friend. When Fatima and I joined them, Yasmine grinned.

"The whole gang has reunited!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands.

"Speaking of, we haven't had a meeting in weeks!" Zeinab pouted.

Fatima nodded, turning to me. "Yeah, we need a progress update."

I rolled my eyes and smiled. "Yes,  In Sha Allah I will tell you everything, but first, we have to pray!"

"Pray before play," Yasmine stated solemnly, adjusting her skirt so that it covered her feet properly as we stood in line, shoulder to shoulder so the devil couldn't get between us.

After prayer, people split off either to go home, catch up or read Quran. Immi let me know that she was going to read some Quran with Samia and Azima, Fatima's mother, and I nodded, letting her know that I'd be with my sisters. Fatima's older sister Aisha was already sitting in the corner, reading Quran by herself, Masha'allah. Aisha was very pious and dedicated to Islam, which was why Fatima was too, as Aisha was Fatima's role model. And Fatima was my role model, and I was Zeinab and Yasmine's role model. We were all role models in our own ways to different people.

"Let's go outside and talk," Yasmine suggested, pointing towards the exit. I nodded, and Zeinab and Fatima followed. In the midst of people I looked for Nasr, and sure enough, I spotted him in the foyer, talking to none other than...

"Hide me," I ducked behind Fatima and gripped her shoulders, attempting to walk behind her without tripping over my or her feet.

"What are you doing?" Fatima asked me suspiciously, and Zeinab and Yasmine stopped in their tracks to give me strange looks.

"Playing hide and seek?" I tried.

"Who's counting?" Yasmine smirked at me, planting a hand on her hip.

"Time," I replied deeply.

Fatima shook me off her shoulders and fixed her eyes on me, and by the look in them I knew she meant business. "Stop messing about, Mims, what's the big deal? Who are you hiding from?"

I bit my lip, flicking my eyes over to where my brother stood, talking to Zaid. He was wearing a dark green buttoned shirt and dark denim jeans, his hands in his pockets and his demeanour relaxed. He didn't seem to be burdened with anything, so why did I feel like I was carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders?

"It's Zaid, isn't it?" Zeinab snickered. She was quick to catch on, and I suppressed a groan as she, Fatima and Yasmine all turned their heads towards the man in mention.

"Real subtle, guys," I muttered, and to my horror, Zeinab skipped up to them, followed by Fatima and Yasmine, who had to practically drag me over there. Honestly, I was just afraid of the awkwardness I would have to face with Zaid, especially after the whole proposal thing. But when Zaid turned to me with a bright smile, I realized that there was no awkwardness between us, and I had nothing to fear.

"Salamu Alaykum Mariam," he greeted me.

"Wa alaykum musalam, Zaid," I replied with a smile.

Nasr had a mischievous glint in his eyes and I frowned at him. No doubt he would still continue to tease me relentlessly about Zaid, no matter what I did or said.

"No soccer tonight?" Yasmine asked.

Nasr laughed. "No, not tonight. The boys who bring the ball aren't here."

"Oh, what a shame. I love watching you play," Yasmine blurted, sounding disappointed, and I raised my eyebrows at her. I didn't even realize she paid any attention to the boys that played soccer since most of the time we were either reading Quran or talking.

Nasr smirked. "Oh, really?"

Yasmine blushed. "I mean, yeah, you're like a great soccer player. Both of you," she glanced at Zaid too, including him in the conversation. "You're both great."

"Thanks, Yaz," Zaid beamed at her, and I frowned. I thought he only smiled like that for me! I shook away this stray thought, wondering what had come over me. Zaid was a nice guy, he could smile at anyone however he liked.

"I wish I could play soccer, but I suck at it," Zeinab complained.

"Maybe because you keep tripping over the ball!" I laughed.

"The ball is slippery!" Zeinab responded in her defence, and everyone else laughed too.

I didn't know how it happened, but suddenly our group of six was paired off automatically. Fatima was speaking to Zeinab about Quran, while Nasr and Yasmine were deep in conversation about university. Apparently the university Nasr attended offered the courses Yasmine wanted to study, such as design and fashion. I couldn't help feeling obliged to speak to Zaid, who I had almost forgotten was less than a metre away from me, until he spoke first.

"So...no hard feelings, right?"

I assumed he was talking about the elephant in the room, the elephant being the engagement, but to confirm this, I blurted, "What?"

Zaid cracked a smile. "You know, about how our parents were trying to set us up?"

"You make it sound like we were scammed or something," I chuckled, trying to make light of this uncomfortable topic.

"I'm sorry," I added, and Zaid puckered his brow, as if he couldn't understand why I was apologising.

"Why?"

"Because...I said no," I mumbled, staring at my hands. His eyes were too deep, I felt like I was being tugged into them.

Zaid laughed, and I raised my eyes to meet his once again. "I'm glad you said no, Mariam." His words surprised me.

"And why is that?" Was I that unappealing to him?

"Because I'm not ready to do all that...stuff," Zaid replied soberly. "I want to finish my studies first, and then –"

"Get a job, settle down and all that jazz," I finished for him, because that was exactly what I wanted too. Zaid and I were alike in many ways.

Zaid smiled as if he had found exactly what he had been looking for. "You so get me," he said with a flick of his hand, putting on a funny voice that made me laugh.

"Maybe because I want the same thing," I replied. "But honestly, I'm just not ready for all that."

"Yeah, me neither," Zaid admitted, and for some reason this admission soothed me. "My parents are so old fashioned, they wanted to do it their way, by doing everything for me. But when I get married I want to do it on my own terms, and in the way I think is right."

I arched an eyebrow. "And what way is that?"

Zaid looked me in the eyes and said, "I would ask the father of the girl first and then tell her how I feel so we could approach our parents together, not the other way around. That way we can choose our destiny, while still leaving it in our parents' hands to make the final decision."

I smiled at his answer. "How very Islamic of you, Zaid."

Zaid shrugged. "Well what can I say? I'm a Muslim. It's the way I should follow, and the right way. And In Sha Allah I will do it with the right girl."

"In Sha Allah," I echoed, glancing away from his intense gaze. Why was he looking at me so intensely? It was uncomfortable.

"Even if that right girl is you," Zaid murmured, and I snapped my gaze back to him, eyes wide.

"What?"

Zaid just smiled back at me, a little sadly, until our moment was interrupted by his little brother Ismail, tugging at his shirt.

"Zaid, Yallah, we have to go now," Ismail said, and my heart melted at how cute he was, masha'allah. He reminded me a bit of Zaid when he was younger...wait a minute. Did that mean I thought Zaid was cute too?

I shook these thoughts from my mind as Zaid spoke to his brother. I was still in shock from Zaid's words, and his intentions by them. Never did I consider that Zaid would have feelings for me...but if he did, then wouldn't he have to do something about them? Was that what the engagement was about? So many questions, and I had to find out what this all meant.

"Are you going to marry my brother?"

I didn't realize Ismail was speaking to me until I felt a tug on my sleeve, ripping me from my thoughts. I glanced down at the sweet little boy of eight years old. The same age Zaid was when we first met.

"Uh..." Kids always seemed to ask the most awkward questions, and I felt my cheeks redden as I struggled to come up with a legible answer for Ismail.

Zaid chuckled, ruffling Ismail's black hair and saying, "Ismail, why don't you go back to Baba and I'll be with you soon."

Ismail gazed up at his older brother with his brows pinched. "Is it true? I heard Mama and Baba talking about marriage, and I want to be the ring boy!"

I couldn't help but laugh at his innocent wishes to be a ring boy, even though there wasn't exactly a ring boy in a Nikkah, but whatever.

I decided to save the situation and crouch down to Ismail's level, beaming at the little boy. "Hey, Ismail, I'm sure you'll make a great ring boy one day, but your brother and I aren't getting married anytime soon."

Ismail's face slumped with disappointment. "Really? Oh, man! And I was really looking forward to carrying your ring!"

"That's only in the movies, buddy," Zaid told him, squeezing his shoulder.

"But you're still getting married, right?" Hope shined in his big brown eyes, and I glanced at Zaid as I rose to my original height, noticing how he chewed his lip, looking a little uncomfortable.

"We'll see," Zaid answered, and this seemed to be a satisfactory response to Ismail's question, for he nodded, a smile spreading across his face.

"Cool. Now come on, Baba's waiting for us!" Ismail began yanking Zaid's hand, and Zaid sighed, rolling his eyes at me with a smile.

"I guess I'll see you around, Mims."

"In Sha Allah," I waved. It seemed to be my answer to everything these days, because nothing was certain anymore. And as I watched him joke around with his little brother, racing him down the hallway and pretending to lose, I realized that not even I was certain anymore of my final answer, because watching Zaid leave made me sad for some reason. 

"Why do you look so forlorn, Mims?" Yasmine nudged me, and I almost forgot that she was there not far from me, along with my brother, sister and best friend.

"Forlorn? Someone's been doing their English homework," I joked.

Yasmine chuckled. "Yeah, who knew I'd ever use that word? Anyway, don't change the subject, I saw the way Zaid was looking at you..." she nudged me suggestively, and I groaned.

"Not you too."

Yasmine grinned mischievously. "He totally likes you! And if I'm not mistaken, the feeling is mutual..."

I shook my head. "There are no feelings, Yaz."

"What are you, a robot? It's okay to have feelings, Mims!" Yasmine laughed.

I arched an eyebrow at her. "How about you, huh? I saw you having a nice conversation with Nasr not too long ago. Are there any feelings there?" I teased.

"Mariam! We were just talking! Nothing more, nothing....less," Yasmine was getting flustered, which could only mean one thing. She was in denial.

"It's okay if you like my brother, you have my blessing," I said seriously, and surprisingly, Yasmine's face lit up like a thousand watt light bulb.

"Really?" she giggled. "Because he's like totally cute, so much cuter than Aidan, and much nicer, too, and –"

"Okay, okay, no need to give me the details of how cute my brother is," I made a 'yukh' sound to express how gross this topic was. I mean, we were talking about the guy who left his dirty socks all over the house and chugged straight from the milk carton.

"Sorry, but it's just," Yasmine sighed a high-pitched love-sick sigh, and I had to refrain from rolling my eyes. "I feel like all this time, he was there for me, and I never realized it until now. I never realized how...good he is. And funny, and smart, and athletic –"

"Are we talking about me?" Fatima popped up suddenly, making me jump. I turned to her, almost forgetting that she was still here. I guess I forgot everyone else existed while I was talking to my best friend. Funny, since the same thing happened when I was talking with Zaid – everyone else just...disappeared.

"Of course not, though you are funny, and smart, and a helluva good soccer player..." The more I spoke, the more Fatima beamed.

"Aw, Jazakallahu Khair! You too are all those things," she complimented me. "But come on, who were we really talking about? Zaid?" She paused, glancing at Yasmine cheekily. "Nasr?"

Yasmine's eyes widened. "No!" she lied.

"Yes," I replied truthfully to Fatima, who just nodded as if she knew this all along.

"Well, I completely agree," Fatima giggled. "Astaghfurullah just in case, though!"

She crossed her fingers, biting her lip and Yasmine and I laughed at her antics.

"You're too cute, Fatima,' I pinched her cheek just as Denise had done to me last term.

Behind her, Aisha approached us with a wide smile.

"Salam, girls! How are we?" Aisha was twenty-three, and engaged. She was doing her degree in social sciences while staying with her parents until the wedding. In Pakistani tradition, the wife must live with her husband, so for these last few months Aisha was spending as much time as she could with her little sister before she left, which meant coming to the mosque with us. According to Fatima, Aisha's future husband was a good man, and he even had a younger brother at twenty one years old who could be a potential suitor for Fatima, but only Allah knew.

"We are great, Alhamdulillah, however, how's the almost married life?" I asked her.

Aisha beamed, flashing her ring. "It's marvellous! And it'll only get better – or worse," she added as an undertone.

"I'm sure Hamza will take care of you," Fatima assured her sister. "But if he does anything to hurt you, I'll take care of him," she pounded her fist into her open palm, making Aisha laugh.

"Violence isn't the answer, Fatima," she jokingly chided.

"That's what I keep telling her!" I exclaimed, referring to the time Fatima told me to whack Damian with my textbook. But I had no intention to whack anybody, not when he was already in enough pain as it was...

"Well, I gotta go now, ladies," Fatima said regretfully, giving us each a hug.

"I'm definitely coming here more often!" Aisha said, glancing around with shining eyes. "I love the atmosphere of the mosque."

"Yeah, you should come more," Yasmine agreed. "And we are definitely coming to your wedding!"

"I look forward to it!" Aisha called as she towed her sister away, waving enthusiastically at us.

"Speaking of weddings...when's your brother getting married to Najma?" Yusuf and Najma had apparently hit it off at the first meeting and had gotten engaged last week.

"In around a month," Yasmine informed me.

"I can't wait!" I rubbed my hands together in anticipation, but at the look of Yasmine's face, I stopped in mid-rub.

"Najma's parents don't want the whole big wedding shebang, so they're just going to keep it simple, so I don't know if you'll be invited," Yasmine sighed.

"Oh. Well, at least there'll be an after-party gathering, right?"

Yasmine shrugged. "I dunno. We'll see, In Sha Allah. I can't believe he's finally getting married. You have no idea how long I've waited for this!"

"Let me guess – you're going to take his room as soon as he moves out?" I chuckled. Yusuf had the biggest room after the master bedroom in Yasmine's house, and Yasmine always complained about how small her room was, but I was surprised when Yasmine wrinkled her nose.

"No way! I like my room," she stated firmly. "Besides, Yusuf's room stinks."

"You could always get it sprayed," I suggested.

Yasmine tapped her chin in thought. "Good idea, Mims. I'll do that. And I'll get it decorated and painted exactly how I like it – it'll be a brand new start! A change of scenery."

"So many changes," I murmured. "I don't know if I can keep up with all of them."

Yasmine slung an arm around me, steering me towards the exit where we met up with our families. "Don't worry, Mims. You always seem to work it out in the end."

***

Damian's POV

"What's up with the bet between you and Mariam?" Theo asked me in Business Management.

I raised my eyebrows at him, twiddling my pen in my fingers, a habit I had when I was bored.

Business management had been so much more fun last year when we got to set up stalls and sell stuff to the kids at school. Now it was all about companies and profits and resources – yawn. The only reason I chose this subject was because 1) it seemed fun according to the people who did it in previous years and 2) my father wanted me to do it. Most of my subjects were recommended by my father, who wanted me to follow the same corporate pathway as he did, since I apparently had 'potential' and would make a great businessman. Now I was regretting most of my choices, but then again, any type of work was a total bore, and I'd rather not go through with it, but it was too late to change anyway. I couldn't afford to let my parents down this year by flunking all my subjects.

"What bet?" I decided to play dumb, since I was the best at it.

Theo rolled his eyes. "Dude, she told me everything. And now it's my job to make sure you don't do anything you shouldn't."

"What are you, her father?" I scoffed. "It's just a harmless bet, nothing more, nothing less." This was a lie. It wasn't harmless – it was getting deep now. I was in deep, and the more I learned about Islam, the more my view of the world changed. But most of all, the more my view of Muslims changed. I remember distinctly being a total ass-prick about Mariam's religion, and I kicked myself every time I remembered all the hurtful things I had said. It was amazing how Mariam was still tolerating me, when I knew personally how much of a dick I could be. I remembered that being one of the things she believed in – tolerance. Even though she seemed to run out of it pretty quickly.

"No bet is harmless, Damian, you and I both know that from experience," Theo chuckled mirthlessly. "And I don't like the consequences."

"Life's all about the consequences, Theo," I preached. "And how to avoid them."

Speaking of consequences, Mr Turbine was fixing Theo and I with a glare for talking in class, and I waited until he turned his back to the board to talk again, because I was so rebel like that.

"Besides, it's not like I'm actually going to make her go through with it," I continued. "I'm not that much of a jerk."

"I'm pretty sure you are, Damian," Theo muttered. "Which is why I don't trust you with my dear friend."

"Why does everyone always assume the worst of me?" I moaned.

Mr Turbine appeared to have heard this, for he supplied me with an answer to my rhetorical question. "Because, Damian, you always show us the worst," everyone in the class 'oohed' like the wind, including Theo beside me. Traitor.

"But Mr T, that's not fair! I'm trying my best to be a good student," I protested like a little boy, and Mr Turbine just smirked. Hm, why did that expression look so familiar? Oh, wait, that's right, because I smirked a lot. And the ladies loved it. All except Mariam.

"If you were trying you wouldn't be talking while I was talking!" Mr Turbine's catchphrase I'd heard a dozen times, since I couldn't stop my mouth from running when it shouldn't be.

I grumbled profanities under my breath as Mr Turbine continued with his boring ass presentation about marketing strategies and how to appeal to the people. My marketing strategy was my face, and if I failed elsewhere, I could always fall back on my looks and become a model. But even I wasn't that conceited. Okay, maybe I was.

"If you hurt her, I'll hurt you," was all Theo said to me after he gathered his books at the bell. I cocked an eyebrow at his receding back. This guy was way too protective of his little girl-friends. The greedy bastard had three of them! Nowadays, I was sticking with my mates, my bros, my fellas, because girls were a headache. And a heartache.

Speaking of girls, on my way to the lockers, Sam bumped into me, quite literally, actually, and if it wasn't for my rapid reflexes Sam's pencil case would've fallen.

"Thanks," she smiled at me, placing it on top of her pile of books. Apparently, she had just had biology.

"Wait, isn't Aidan in your bio class?" I asked her.

"Uh-huh," Sam nodded as we ascended the stairs. Of course, I towered over most of the midgets here, namely the little year sevens. I had a growth spurt in year eight so I wasn't always this tall, but it felt empowering to be this height.

"What'd you just do?" I asked her.

"Oh, you know, we just had to work in groups to do some research project," Sam huffed like it was no big deal.

"Who was in your group?" The only reason I was making conversation was because I was bored, and there was no one else to talk to in this crowded stairwell.

"Aidan, Denise and...Mariam," Sam recalled, tucking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear to reveal her array of silver piercings. I wouldn't get piercings for myself since it wouldn't suit me, but I knew Aidan and Felix had a few in their ears. They rocked it better than I could, plus, my mum would freak if I did something like that.

"Mariam's in your bio class?" The two of them were opposites, considering Sam wore revealing outfits and Mariam was conservative with her dress sense. Sam looked hot like, all the time, while Mariam just looked...normal. I remembered a quote Mariam showed me which said that girls without hijab were hot, and girls with hijab were beautiful, and that was why hell was hot and heaven was beautiful.

I noticed Sam tense a little, her ski-slope nose wrinkling slightly. "Yeah, she is."

"Why didn't I know that before?" I wondered aloud.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me," Sam said mysteriously.

"As there are for me," I shot back just as mysteriously.

Sam's green eyes glittered as we finally reached the top of the staircase to our corridor. "I guess that just proves we need to get to know each other more."

"Or that we've drifted apart," I muttered, though I didn't think Sam heard for she was waving at her friends, joining them at the lockers. I strode past her towards my locker, where Mariam was already there. Just seeing her made me smile.

"Mariam," I sang her name into her ear, or where her ear should be, and she jumped back, startled.

"God, don't do that," she touched a hand to her ear, eyes widened at me.

I smirked. "Don't act like you didn't enjoy it."

Mariam rolled her eyes, slamming her locker, a pita bread wrap in her left hand. I knelt down to my locker, saying, "You know, we should swap lockers."

"And why should we do that?" Mariam asked, before adding, "I like my locker."

"Well, I don't like mine, I'm sick of kneeling on shit just to get my stuff out," I complained. "Plus, I'm taller than you, so I should get the top locker."

"Makes sense," Mariam shrugged, and then a mischievous spark appeared in her eye. "But if you want the top locker, you have to let me win the bet."

I laughed. "I think I'll just stick with my bottom locker," I winked.

Mariam seemed unfazed by my wink, and instead just grinned. "And I'll just keep on converting the bad boy."

"Bad boy? Is that my official label?" I chuckled humourously.

Mariam shrugged. "You labelled yourself, Bella."

I was instantly transported back to that strange phone call I had with Mariam, and I let out a laugh. Apparently, Mariam's mum had answered the phone, and she had saved my name as BB for "Beautiful Beast." Or was it Bothersome Burden? I could never distinguish the two.

"So did you, Virgin Mary," I retorted after grabbing my lunch, which was just a simple ham sandwich.

"Is that ham?" Mariam asked, pointing to my sandwich.

"Yup. The best meat ever to exist," I proclaimed, taking a crunchy bite.

Mariam wrinkled her nose, and that's when I remembered. "You don't eat ham, do you?"

"Nope," she said just as Yaz joined us. I was getting used to Yaz butting in on our conversations, and this one wasn't any different.

"Ew, are you eating a pig's backside?"

Yaz's words made me choke on my sandwich with laughter. I wasn't expecting her to say that!

"What do you mean, pig's backside?" I was almost afraid to ask.

Mariam exchanged a look with Yaz. "You don't know?"

"Know what?"

"That ham comes from the butt of the pig," Mariam informed me matter-of-factly, and I glanced at my sandwich in horror for a second.

"Really? You mean something that tastes this good comes from the ass of a –"

"Yep," Yaz grinned. Why was she grinning? This was so gross! Why didn't my parents tell me this before? I never even realized where each part of pork came from, I just ate it. I remember eating a BLT while visiting a farm when I was in prep, and there were pigs in their sty only metres away, and for some reason, that hadn't put me off. But now...now I was put off.

"That's it, I'm not going to eat this," I decided, pulling out the slice of pink ham from between the slices of bread and chucking it into the nearest bin. When I turned back to the two Muslim girls they were smiling at me proudly. "What?"

"Nothing," they said simultaneously. Seriously, did they share a brain or something? It was freaky how in synch they were with each other.

"Just because I'm giving up ham, doesn't mean I'm giving up bacon," I told them before they got any ideas. "Bacon is the best." I paused. "Unless...it comes from someplace worse than ham?"

Mariam and Yaz laughed. "No, bacon just comes from the belly," Yaz informed me to my relief. "But do you want to know something about pork?"

"What about it?" These pork-haters might have persuaded me to swear off ham for the rest of my life, (it wasn't until they mentioned where it came from that I realized how bad it tasted) but no way were they going to make me give up an entire animal!

"Pork is full of toxins, and you know why? Because they eat their own faeces, to put it lightly," Mariam informed me.

"Well, yeah, everyone knows that," I said.

"But did you know that the pig's digestive system is really short, so that the toxins aren't completely rid of, and it is stored in the fat of the pig," Yaz continued. "Meaning..."

"Pork is basically made of shit," I deduced bluntly.

"Well, yeah," Mariam shrugged. "And that's why pork is forbidden in our religion."

"Makes sense," I nodded. "However..."

"However...?" Mariam arched an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue.

I smirked. "You're going to have to do a lot better than that to win the bet."

But as I walked away, chewing on the plain remnants of my lettuce sandwich with the slight aftertaste of ham, I realized the more I learned, the closer I was to being convinced that Islam was a logical religion, but was it the religion for me? Well, I certainly didn't want to eat pork if it was full of shit, however that was just one aspect I agreed with. According to Mariam, if you did research on the teachings of Christianity, they also forbid the flesh of swine, amongst other things like alcohol and fornication, but so many people were doing that these days and breaking the rules of their own religion, which got me thinking, what even is religion anymore? We were all living by our own set of rules, misguided and lost (like me) that we were forgetting where we all came from, and where we were all headed.

There was a God. I had come to that conclusion. Now the only thing I had to do was decide how I was going to live my life with this belief that a God existed. And I had a feeling I should talk to my mother about this first before figuring things out. Maybe then I would come to terms with this life, and be better prepared when Mum, and anyone I loved for that matter, left it.

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I really loved writing this chapter, I guess because of all the romance ooooh!

Comment which ship is your fav - Yasr or Dariam? Or even Zariam? Are there any fans of Zariam? *crickets chirping* Really? Nobody at all? Poor Zaid!

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter, more of a filler chapter but I'm sure it'll get more interesting in the next few chapters! (I honestly don't even know what I'm going to write yet lol)

Until I figure out what I'm doing with this story, Ma'a salama!

P.S. How did we get to 7.8K reads???!!! Like WHOAAA! Things are moving fast! Just the way I like them heehee 😉