RAMADAN KAREEM!!! 🌙 I hope you are all having a safe and healthy ramadan, filled with blessings and rewards.

Exams are over which means more updates yay! I have a long weekend which means I will be updating for the next four days insha'allah at least 2-3 times 🎉🎆

Anyway, better let you get on with the chapter, as you must be eager to read! 😄

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Damian's POV

The week went faster than I thought it would. Mainly because there was just so much to do.

I went ring shopping with Tracey on Sunday, since she insisted on choosing it for me. Apparently, as a man, I didn't understand the tastes of a woman, so she claimed that it was best if she helped me decide and give a "woman's perspective." Of course, I couldn't argue, because I wanted to give Mariam the best ring she deserved, and Tracey was better at choosing than me.

Aunt Kate officially moved in with us after realizing that it would be easier for her to help out, which meant that Tracey was around more than usual. And for once that didn't bother me as much, since I really needed her. I couldn't do this alone. I probably never would've done it if it weren't for Tracey.

Mum was getting weaker, but she still contributed to the organisations, ordering me around just like she used to. Her voice was fading, yet she had as much power over me as anyone else. Dad was at work most of the time, but he did do his part, making calls to family members who could come for the engagement party which would take place at a function venue he had booked last week, as there were going to be a lot of guests.

All week I was buzzing with this new feeling inside of me, a feeling that everything was going to work out, Insha'Allah, and that I was entering a new chapter of my life, one that would be completely devoted to Mariam. But as I got ready for the engagement party that Saturday, I couldn't help having doubts. Not about the engagement itself, but...myself.

Was I really capable of being the guy Mariam deserves, and being by her side for...for as long as God willed? Was I, Damian Brewer, ready to make this commitment?

But I was forgetting one main thing – I wasn't the same person I had been over a year ago. That Damian was gone. Dead. Buried in the past. He technically didn't exist anymore, since he had been replaced by the new and improved Damian who submitted to the will of Allah, the Almighty, instead of walking on this Earth thinking he was so mighty. I had changed; more importantly, Mariam had changed me, and being with her would only benefit me. But would it benefit her?

"Damian, are you done checking yourself out? We have to leave!" Tracey called.

I smirked at myself in the mirror at Tracey's words, remembering the days when I thought I was hot stuff. I guess I still did, since I looked fine, Masha'allah.

"Wow, did you seriously just wink at your reflection? Gosh, Damian, you really haven't changed one bit," Tracey rolled her eyes in the mirror, and I turned to her, holding out my arms and saying, "How do I look?"

"I don't think I need to tell you how good you look since you already know," Tracey said sarcastically.

"True," I laughed. "But seriously, though." I straightened up as Tracey scrutinized me.

Finally, she said, "You've got a little something..." she pointed to my shirt, but before I could look down, I narrowed my eyes at her.

"I'm not falling for that one again," I deadpanned.

Tracey smiled. "Hm, I'm impressed. It seems like you have matured after all."

"Don't be so sure," I chuckled, sticking my tongue out at her to show my maturity.

"I guess I spoke too soon," Tracey muttered. "Now come on. I have the rings, so don't worry about it."

"Why can't I carry the rings?" I whined as I followed her down the hallway to the stairs.

"Because of that," Tracey retorted, and I frowned, confused at what exactly that was until I realised she meant my whiny tone.

"Is this better?" I deepened my voice to sound somewhat like a "man" and Tracey laughed airily while shaking her head.

"Oh, Damian. Here you go anyway." My eyes widened when she handed me the black case for the rings, and for a moment I didn't know what to do with it, so Tracey unclosed my hand and placed it in my palm. "Don't lose it."

"I won't," I replied smugly, pocketing it in the internal pocket of my jacket. Yeah, that's right. My suit had inner pockets. It was that cool.

"Oh, my baby," of course only Mum would greet me like that, and I pulled a face, until I remembered I should be nice to her. "You look so handsome, Masha'Allah."

"Thanks, mum," I mumbled, leaning down for a kiss on the cheek. Mum had a green scarf on that brought out her eyes and a long black dress down to her ankles. The dress was baggy and did well to cover up her bony structure, however there was nothing that could be done about her face, which, despite the makeup, still looked worn out. I thanked Allah for the millionth time that she was alive for today before we all left to the venue, which was thirty minutes away.

Dad drove us all, claiming that my nerves would make me an unsuitable driver, to which I replied with, "What nerves? I'm as chill as an ice cube."

I was lying, of course.

Today was the day everything would become official, even if it wasn't the marriage ceremony, it was the next step. Our families would meet and mingle for the first time, and it would become evident the cultural and religious differences between us. But I just hoped, and prayed, that all those differences wouldn't matter. Not when all that mattered was Mariam and I.

Never in my entire life did I imagine I'd end up with a girl like her. Maybe because the things that we thought were too good to be true were the least imaginable, like Paradise. The only difference was that Paradise was real, and so was Mariam.

***

Mariam's POV

"Oh my Allah you look stunning!" Fatima exclaimed, eyes sparkling with awe. "Do a spin for me, come on. Give us a show."

I did as she said and the gasps that ensued fuelled the smile on my face. I wore a blue beaded lace dress cinched at the waist with ribbon before flowing out in a long satin skirt, as well as a matching blue hijab. It had been a present for Eid that I hadn't worn yet, and Zeinab and Immi insisted I wear it for today. Actually, they didn't insist, more like they demanded I wear it.

"You look amazeballs! Like, seriously, Mims, you look like one of those hijabi models," Yasmine blabbered, snapping pics of me already. Normally, I would've held up my hands and hid my face, but this time I posed for the camera, feeling confident of myself more than ever. Makeovers tended to have that effect.

With the help of my three sisters, I had transformed from – and I was quoting Zeinab's words here – "A mimipillar into a mimi-butterfly!" Very original, Zay-Zay. But it was true, to an extent. With a little bit of scrubbing, I had gone from being grubby to ready for a hubby. Sorry, that was terrible, but Fatima didn't think so.

"Couldn't have said it better myself," she grinned, squeezing me to her side. I had promised her, as well as Yasmine and Zeinab, to be my bridesmaids at my wedding, which was pretty much already decided, as Yasmine had said, "I was born to be a bridesmaid!"

"And In Sha Allah a bride, too," I winked, making her blush.

Damian's proposal had not made my parents forget about the future marriage of Nasr and Yasmine. In fact, it only seemed to remind them that they needed to marry off their eldest son to their best friends' daughter, who also happened to be their daughter's best friend. However, after talking with Samia and Hameed, my parents had decided to postpone it just until they could figure out what was happening with my marriage.

The venue was a beautiful place, large enough to fit all of the guests expected to come. Damian's father had booked it, since he knew the owner personally. My family had a habit of coming late to functions, but Auntie Ola was always right on time with her daughter Huda and son Haydar, who looked adorable in his white shirt and red bowtie.

"I think I'm gonna cry," Huda fanned her face as she took me in.

"If you cry now, what will you do on my wedding day?" I joked.

"Cry you a swimming pool," Huda replied, and we laughed at that, sharing an embrace.

"Seriously, though, Damian's one lucky guy," Huda continued. "I can see why he chose you over me, I mean, clearly you are the beautiful one here! Like, masha'allah!"

I smiled with rosy cheeks. "Thanks, Hud-Hud, but you are just as beautiful tonight," and it was true. Huda wore a stunning long purple dress and an ombre in her hair from dark to light brown, which really suited her.

"I know," Huda grinned cheekily while flipping her hair over one shoulder. "But if he does anything, and I mean anything, to break your heart, you know who to call."

I laughed. "Okay, Huda." Though we were just joking around, I knew that it was a dark topic. I had used the past week to think more about this engagement, and I realised how big it really was. I was basically giving myself to Damian, trusting him with my heart, and hoping for the best, In Sha Allah, and it didn't take much for things to go wrong. But I prayed that everything would be okay, and we would get through this together. After all, we had been through a lot already, so we could do it again, couldn't we?

Suddenly, Yasmine appeared by my side, gripping my arm and hissing, "He's here!"

It didn't take a genius to figure out who 'he' was, and as she steered me through the crowd, my heart picked up its pace. Was it natural for it to beat this fast? I was both eager and anxious to see Damian, and my body did not fail to remind me of these emotions.

"Salam," Damian appeared before me clad in a navy blue suit and a charming smile, and I almost forgot how to speak until Yasmine pinched me.

"Ow – uh, Salam," I shot a sideways glare at Yasmine, who was stifling a giggle. Damian seemed amused, and he opened his mouth to say something, until he was swept aside by his Aunt Kate and his mother, who both gazed at me with admiration.

"Absolutely gorgeous," Aunt Kate gushed, while Karen just beamed at me, holding out her arms for a hug I happily accepted.

"Oh, Mariam, you really are a sight for sore eyes," she murmured humorously. "Quite literally, actually."

I didn't laugh at that, but instead I gave her a rueful smile. "Thank you, Karen."

"Actually, call me Kareema. That's my Muslim name now," Kareema grinned, and I raised my eyebrows.

"Wow, that's a really nice name," I remarked.

"I know, it means generous and noble," Kareema told me proudly.

"It describes you perfectly, then," I commended, to which she replied with, "Oh, Mariam, you are too sweet."

I acknowledged Damian's father with a nod and smile, before noticing an elderly couple behind him that I had never seen before, which must mean they were –

"Nan, Pop, this is Mariam," Damian introduced them to me, and I noticed how they both sported smiles on their wrinkled faces, akin to everyone else here.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mariam," I expected his grandma to shake my hand, but instead she went ahead and wrapped me into an embrace that warmed my heart. She smelled like flowers and sunshine and cupcakes.

"The pleasure's all mine," I replied warmly after we pulled apart. Damian's family sure loved to hug.

"You are better than I expected, Mariam," his grandpa remarked after greeting me with a smile.

"Um, thank you?" I wasn't sure how to react to that, until he laughed.

"I have high expectations, so you just exceeded those," he raised his hand to illustrate this, and I smiled.

"Well, then, I'm honoured," I responded, glancing at Damian. His dimples were prominent as he grinned at me, and I returned the smile, feeling so much at once, but unable to fully understand what I felt.

Damian's grandpa put an arm around him and said not-so-discreetly, "You have good taste, my boy."

I stifled a giggle as Damian's eyes widened slightly before settling into a smug grin. "I know," he replied.

After all the guests arrived, it was time for dinner to be served. It was amazing how everything turned out, although it had been planned in less than seven days. Usually it would take months to plan an engagement party, but with the help of Damian's Aunt Kate, his father and my parents, they had managed to pull it off. There was no specific theme, yet everything still matched together, and even if it didn't match, it was just a symbol of our differences that complimented each other.

And how many times had I heard the phrase 'Opposites Attract?'

Well, in this case, they definitely did, and I was glad for it.

***

Damian's POV

She looked beautiful tonight.

But the word beautiful didn't do justice for what she was. She was more than that.

I used to think that beautiful people should go together, since beauty deserved beauty, but now I felt like I didn't deserve her. Why did I keep having these thoughts?

To think this was only the engagement, and she looked this good. What about the wedding?

I never liked thinking about the future, especially now that the future might not include Mum. But I remembered a quote I saw about how when Allah took something away from you, He was only making room for something even better. Maybe Mariam was my even better.

"It's beautiful," she murmured, gazing at the ring Tracey and I had chosen, which coincidentally matched her dress.

"Not as beautiful as you," I smoothly inputted, and Mariam looked up at me with sparkling eyes that reflected the chandeliers above, shooting me a coy smile. I loved that smile.

"Alright, alright, enough flirting, you two," Nasr broke us up, and I chuckled at the blush on Mariam's cheeks.

"Come on, let's go dance!" I watched my fiancée get dragged away by her sister before I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Nasr.

"We need to talk," he said gravely, and I raised my eyebrows slightly, feeling intimidated even though we were good friends.

"Okay, let's talk," I replied casually, and Nasr cracked a grin.

"Dude, don't look so scared, I'm not gonna beat you up or anything. Trust me, I would've done that ages ago," Nasr joked, and I laughed.

"Good to know."

"First of all, I just wanna say, congrats," Nasr slapped me on the back, and I grinned, despite myself. "Second of all, I know you aren't married to her yet, but still, don't break her heart. She's my little sis, and though it pains me to admit it, I care about her. Which means, anyone who makes her happy has my tick of approval. However," Nasr paused to raise an index finger, looking straight at me, "If you make her unhappy, then there's gonna be beef between us, you hear?"

I nodded solemnly, struggling to stifle a grin. "All I wanna do is be her happiness," I said, and Nasr rolled his eyes.

"Dude, that's just way too cheesy. I'm still digesting the manakish (cheese pie)," Nasr joked. "You're lucky I like you, otherwise there'd be more than just beef between us, but a whole cow."

"Moo," I looked up to see Amir suddenly joining us with his trademark mischievous grin. I was glad I had already met most of Mariam's family since it made this whole engagement thing so much easier. I had left a good impression last year when I met them all, and I needed all the good impressions I could get in order to be accepted into this family.

"I had a feeling I'd be seeing you again," Amir said to me. "No way would Mariam invite a boy for Eid and not marry him."

"Oi, don't talk about my sister like that," Nasr shoved him, but Amir just laughed raucously.

"I'm just kidding, Nasr, sheesh, lighten up," Amir poked Nasr's stomach, earning a glare. "Anyway, welcome to the family, bro, even though you're technically not married yet. By the way, when's the wedding?"

"We still haven't decided," I replied.

"Let me know when it is, yeah? I love weddings," Amir proclaimed, chomping on a breadstick he swiped from a nearby table. "Oh, by the way," Amir turned to Nasr, pointing his breadstick at him as he said, "Weren't you and Yaz gonna get married or something?"

I raised my eyebrows at this while Nasr just grumbled, "Don't make me hit you over the head with your breadstick, Amir."

"I don't see why you're taking so long, I mean, look at her, she's amazing," Amir gestured towards the dance floor where most of the guests were dancing to the music that played through the speakers. Of course, Yaz was among them, as well as Mariam. "If you're not gonna marry her, I will."

"She won't marry you," Nasr scoffed. "I mean look at you, you got crumbs all over your shirt, ya slob."

Amir began brushing off the crumbs and straightening his collar, saying, "How about now?"

"Nope," Nasr shook his head, chuckling.

"Guess who's here?" Tracey came up to me with an excited grin, and before I could guess, she led me over to where the new arrivals stood. I couldn't believe my eyes.

"I thought you couldn't come," I said to Theo and Denise, who both beamed at me.

"How could we not come to your engagement, man? Especially when we're friends with both you and Mariam," Theo replied, aghast. "It's like, a crime, isn't it, Denise?"

"Oh, yeah, totally," Denise agreed a little sarcastically. I missed her sarcasm.

"You guys look great, by the way," I complimented, suddenly noticing Theo's brother, who was with Tracey. Of course she invited him too.

"You too. I haven't seen you in a suit since year eleven formal," Theo remarked.

"Is that a ring I see?" Denise gasped, pointing to the silver band on my finger. Suddenly, she let out a high-pitched shriek of enthusiasm, and before I knew it, she was in Mariam's arms, marvelling over her ring.

"Did you pick this?" Denise asked me incredulously while holding Mariam's hand in her own.

"Yep," I answered.

"With a little help from moi," Tracey added, her arm looped with Alex's.

Denise continued to gape at the ring, and the two girls slinked off to the dance floor, leaving me with Theo.

"So, you finally popped the question," Theo said. "How does it feel to be engaged?"

"I don't know, it feels pretty good," I shrugged. "How about you? You ever going to make the move with Denise?"

"It's still too early for that," Theo responded quickly.

"Well, you guys have been going strong for...how long has it been now?" It felt like they had been together for ages, when really it was –

"Fourteen months, I think," Theo scratched his chin in thought. "Yeah, around that. Damn. That's a long time."

"A new record," I joked, and Theo laughed.

"Yeah, I never had a girlfriend for longer than a month," he admitted. "And I was young and immature."

"You still are, Theo," I told him clamping a hand on his shoulder.

"I like to think that Denise is making a man out of me," Theo said. "She's definitely not like other girls."

"Neither is Mariam," I said softly, my eyes searching for her in the crowd. I didn't have a large family, so the majority of the guests were from her side, but I could see what little family I did have mingling with Mariam's and some of them even getting along. Maybe this could work out after all.

***

Mariam's POV

"I don't think she should marry that boy."

I overheard my grandmother talking to my mother in Arabic as soon as I stepped out of the bathroom. They didn't notice I was behind them so I pressed myself against the wall next to the pot plant in the corner and listened to their words with a sinking feeling in my stomach.

"Why not? He's a good Muslim, and the family love him," Immi reasoned, and I silently thanked her for being on my side.

"Yes, he's a Muslim, but what about the rest of his family? I thought we agreed that you would only marry your children to Muslim families," Sitti argued.

"His mother is Muslim," Immi supplied.

"But she's sick! What will happen when she goes, hm? The family are all kaafirs (disbelievers), astaghfurullah. Do we really want to join our family with a non-Muslim family?"

Everything Sitti said was what I had already thought of, but pushed aside. It didn't matter, did it? It wasn't about the families as much as it was about the two people getting married. But of course, my grandma was old-fashioned, and couldn't see it in this way.

"Ya mama, listen, it's not about the families. How many stories have you heard about reverts marrying Muslims? Of course their family wouldn't all be Muslim, and there's no problem with that," Immi debated, and I refrained from putting my hands together in applause. Go, Immi!

"I still don't like it," Sitti huffed. "They are Australian, too! They eat pigs and drink alcohol! Astaghfurullah."

"We can't do anything about that, Mama, but we can just pray for Mariam and Damian's marriage to be successful, as it is for the sake of Allah, don't forget," Immi said calmly.

"I just don't see why she couldn't have settled for an Arab boy, and kept it in our culture," Sitti muttered.

"There are plenty of marriages uniting two different cultures, Ma, you need to stop being so traditional," Immi contended. I never thought I'd hear my mum say that, since I used to think she was traditional, but then again, she had come here to Australia much earlier than Sitti, and she was more adjusted to this innovative culture.

"Traditional is good, habibti, it keeps us safe," Sitti opposed. "And I don't think Mariam is safe with them."

At this point, I had heard enough, and I realised that eavesdropping was not a halal thing to do. But how could I not, when it involved me?

I was so eager to get away from my traditional grandma and her concerns that I bumped into someone. And not just anyone. The one.

"Oops, sorry," I bit my lip and looked down, feeling stupid for not looking where I was going. Again.

"What's wrong? You look worried," I was surprised that Damian picked up on my mood instead of commenting on the fact that I had just basically ran into him accidentally. But I was also glad.

"I'm okay, not worried at all," the lie slipped off my tongue like butter as I plastered my lips into a smile.

"Not even a little bit?" Damian inquired, and I looked up at him then, noticing the dimple in his cheek.

"Okay, maybe just a little," I admitted.

"Same," Damian confessed, and I raised my eyebrows.

"Why are you worried?" I asked.

"What's not to worry about?" Damian replied with a sad smile, and I instantly realised why. "But as long as I have you, my worries seem to fade away."

"Aw, how sweet. Am I interrupting something?" Tracey had the best timing, since I was practically a puddle on the floor from Damian's words, and I didn't know what to say, which was a first, since I always knew what to say.

Damian scowled at her. "Yes, you are. Now please leave."

"I won't leave until I get a selfie with both of you," Tracey held up her phone, standing between us and fitting us all in the frame. I saw myself in the screen, but it didn't look like me. The girl in the screen looked older, prettier, and happier. "Smile!"

So we did. And for once, my worries really did fade away. There was nothing to worry about, not when you had Allah taking care of everything even before it happened.

"That was a nice photo," Tracey commented. "You guys are so cute."

"Duh," Damian replied while I chuckled. Usually if someone said that to us I would've groaned while hiding my face, but now I just accepted it. We were engaged now, there was no turning back. Unless something went wrong, God forbid.

The engagement party broke up shortly after, as it was getting late, and people had to leave. I found my mum and gave her a hug, surprising her a little.

"I love you," I kissed her cheek, and Immi grinned.

"I love you too, habibti. Allah knows how much I love you."

I felt an arm around me and looked up to see Baba grinning down at me. "Now all that's left is the wedding," he said. "I can't believe you are engaged, but alhamdulillah. I have waited since your birth for this day."

I beamed at my parents, feeling blessed to have them both here, loving and supporting me. I spotted Karen – no, Kareema - in the crowd, and went to say goodbye. She looked tired, but happy, especially when she saw me.

"Oh, Mariam, you have no idea how happy it makes me to know that you are engaged to my son," Kareema said that for probably the fifth time tonight, and I just smiled in agreement.

"Not as happy as it makes me, Kareema," I gripped her hands in mine, saying those words with all the sincerity in my heart.

Kareema's smile began to slip from her features, replaced by a look of pain. I continued to hold her hands as I asked, "Are you okay?"

Stupid question, I know. And the answer was given when all of a sudden, she let out a grunt and held her chest, her face contorted with agony. Immediately, her husband rushed to hold her up while I slowly let go of her hands, a cold feeling of dread flooding my veins.

Around me, people began to stare in curiosity as Darren swept his wife into his arms and carried her out of the foyer and into the night. Instinctively, I searched for Damian, and sure enough, he was pushing through the crowd, following his parents with a look of concern.

"Ya Allah, I hope she's alright," Zeinab whimpered on the car ride home, clutching my arm. My parents were silent in the front seat, while the three of us siblings were squished in the back.

"She will be, In Sha Allah," I murmured, gazing out the window at the streaks of light that lit up the night. The night was such a dark, scary time, which was exactly what it felt like now, coming home from the engagement party. I didn't realise I was crying until we parked in the driveway, and I felt something wet slip down my cheek. I also didn't realise Zeinab was holding my hand until she let go, and the warmth was gone, my palm feeling cold and empty.

I wasn't ready to let go, not when I had just begun to hold on. 

__________

Man, this chapter was hard to write. Anyway, I will be updating tomorrow insha'allah so stay tuned!