Almost three months from their first meeting and frequenting numerous shopping malls, gardens, cinemas and hotels and getting to know each other better, Zanobi proposed Zubaida.

It was a bright and sunny Sunday morning. Zubaida reluctantly woke up when her cell phone refused to cease vibrating under her pillow.
"Hello." She whispered into the phone, stifling a yawn.
"Rise and shine, morning dew." Zanobi cheerily said from the other side.

He had made it a habit to call Zubaida by weird names.

"Morning." Zubaida said easing out of the bed, careful not to wake Mary sleeping beside her.
One of the positive things that came out of the incident with Travis was the beginning of friendship between the two cousins, Zubaida had moved into Mary's room soon after.

"It is such a beautiful day," Zanobi declared, "it calls for some outdoor fun."
"Huh?" Zubaida responded groggily.
"Oh c'mon sleepy head. I will be there in an hour," Zanobi ordered, "and you better be ready as we are going for a hike."

.................
"Can...we...rest, please?" Zubaida called after Zanobi, panting for breath. "I am...really... tired." She protested.
"We are almost there, honey lemon." He shouted back, "Just a little more walking."

After exactly forty seven minutes of jogging and climbing, as indicated by the digital watch Zubaida wore on her wrist, they reached their destination.

It was a deserted picnic spot.

Zubaida was awestruck. Zanobi seemed as excited as a small boy who got his favorite remote control car for Christmas.

He held Zubaida's left hand in his right and walked her over to the plaid blanket spread out on the grass. He sat Indian style, taking her down with him.

"Hungry, sweet corn?" He inquired.
"Yes, a bit." Zubaida replied, finally able to speak.
"Then let's have breakfast." Zanobi stated while producing a Rubbermaid storage box containing pancakes, a packet of wheat bread, a jar of strawberry jam, a pancake syrup dispenser, a box of Kleenex tissues and some plastic cutlery from the basket.

"I never arranged a picnic for anyone before," Zanobi confessed, "I hope I am doing fine."
"You are doing great." Zubaida assured him.
"Want some?" Zanobi smiled, offering a bottle of apple juice to Zubaida.

"Careful! I put something in it." Zanobi warned her, as she took a big gulp.
Alarmed, Zubaida dumped the contents of the bottle in the soil, staring Zanobi with accusing eyes.
"People put rings in the glasses of wine of the women they want to propose, but you are allergic to strong drinks," Zanobi explained, "so I thought maybe apple juice would be just as romantic and safe."

Zanobi picked up the ring from the muddy ground , rubbing it against the leg of his pants to wipe away the dirt and handed it to Zubaida.
"Will you marry me, pumpkin pie?" He asked her, expectantly waiting for her answer.

Zubaida was astonished at his question.
"You are a wonderful person, absolutely the type of guy I would like to spend my entire life with, but you are my friend and I never thought about you in that pretext," Zubaida reasoned, "besides, you are a Christian and it is forbidden for a Muslim woman to marry someone out of her religion."
"Then I will embrace Islam," Zanobi pronounced stubbornly, "you will marry me then, right?"