4. 𝑰𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏

You know that awkward moment during dinner when the adults turn their attention to us, the 'kids', putting us on the spot? It's a nerve-wracking experience, where you hope to say the right thing and avoid making a fool of yourself. To add to my anxiety, I could sense the handsome stranger across from me stealing glances every few minutes.

Uncle Adam's question came shortly after Hassan sat down, putting me into the spotlight. "So, Halimah dear, when are you going to graduate from university? I think you're almost done, right?"

I cleared my throat, my voice a little unsteady, "Um, yeah, I'm almost done with it, Uncle. Alhamdulillah."

A warm smile spread across Uncle Adam's face. "Allahumma Barik, that's great to hear." I responded with a shy "thank you."

After high school, I made the decision to pursue an online university education. It wasn't easy convincing my parents, but eventually, they supported my choice. Adjusting to online learning was challenging , but I must say that I'm glad I took this path, and I can't wait to graduate by the beginning of next year.

The frog, as I liked to call her in my mind, couldn't resist chiming in. "Do they even allow that type of dressing in the university?" Her sneering remark didn't surprise me; she never missed a chance to comment on my attire.

"Zahra," Uncle Adam and Hassan spoke in unison, both shooting her disapproving glares.

"What? I'm just asking," she replied with a smirk, her nonchalant attitude on full display.

Uncle Adam, ever the gentleman, addressed me apologetically. "I'm so sorry for Zahra's question, Halimah. It was out of line."

"It's alright, Uncle," I responded, offering a reassuring smile. Then, I turned my attention back to her. "To answer your question, yes, they do allow this type of dressing in the university. And my decision to do online studies has nothing to do with my dressing."

"Yeah, right," she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

I couldn't help but retaliate as I noticed a blueish tint on her dyed blonde hair. "Did you dye your hair? I didn't know you liked the color blue so much. I've got to say, it looks...eye-catching, totally your color."

Admittedly, my response was somewhat childish, but she started it, again. It was clear that my modest attire seemed to irk her, as she continued to take jabs. Fortunately, her remarks didn't affect me, as I knew that my decision to wear the hijab was deeply personal, guided by my faith and not influenced by others' opinions.

My remark resulted in different reactions around the table. Abubakr burst into laughter, my mother pinched my thigh—felt like she was trying to rip my skin off—and my dad nearly choked on his juice. Sarah simply glared at me, while Uncle Adam looked on with amusement.

But of all the responses, Zahra's was the most entertaining. Her face twisted into a vicious scowl, and it reddened with anger or embarrassment. Or perhaps both emotions. Frankly, I didn't care. Without a word, she abruptly rose from her seat and departed the dining room, stumbling on her way out.

"What? I was just asking," I feigned innocence, attempting to make my eyes appear wider and innocent as I pretended to be baffled by Zahra's sudden departure.

A deep, low chuckle emanated from across the table, causing me to shiver and blush involuntarily . Swiftly glancing in Hassan's direction, I found him smiling down at his plate, amused.

"I'm going to get the ice cream," Sarah announced with a stiff tone, her attempt at an escape from the situation. She began tidying up the dinner table.

"I'll help," my Ma chimed in, rushing to follow her and swiftly gathering the remaining dishes. It was clear she was trying to mend whatever was left of her strained relationship with the Musa girls.

"Halimah," my dad chuckled, shaking his head at my antics. I responded with a soft giggle, shrugging my shoulders in a nonchalant 'oh well' manner.

"That was a good one," Uncle Adam also commented with a quiet chuckle, which caught Hassan by surprise.

"I have no idea what you two are talking about," I said, taking a sip from my glass of water. They both exchanged knowing glances and delved into a private, hushed conversation. I looked down at my hands, finding solace in the distraction.

Abu sat to my right, engrossed in, you guessed it, his video games. The thought of heading to where the ladies were seemed as appealing as walking on hot coals right now. Especially when I know my mother would scold me and pinch me again if I were to go there.

"I'm surprised you two don't recognize each other. When you were kids, you were practically inseparable. Halimah, I remember you always coming over to the house to play with Hassan. You don't remember that?" Uncle Adam mused, his attention focused back on both of us after he and my dad spoke for a few minutes.

The revelation caught me by surprise, as I had no recollection of those times.

Hassan chuckled softly from across the table and replied, "I vaguely remember a little girl in pigtails coming over to play, but I didn't realize it was her."

As they reminisced, a distant memory began to resurface within me. I recalled a chubby little boy I would often play tag with on the grass.

"I remember it faintly now," I admitted with a low laugh as a short memory played in my mind,

My small hijab danced in the breeze as I giggled and darted through the green expanse of grass. My chubby play buddy with rosy cheeks and a wide smile, ran away from me.

"Tag, you're it!" I squealed as I tagged him, my laughter carried into the air.

With a determined gleam in his eyes, he ran after me. The grass seemed to stretch on forever as we raced, our little legs pumping with energy. The world around us blurred in a whirl of green as we weaved through imaginary obstacles, our joyous laughter carried by the wind.

Who would have thought that my childhood friend stood before me as a relative stranger? I had stopped visiting when I started preschool and made new friends, but I continued to see him occasionally as we crossed paths, or when he accompanied Uncle Adam to our house. Eventually, he disappeared from my life, and I later heard that he had been sent to a boarding school in London.

"So, what are you studying?" the handsome man across from me inquired softly after a few minutes had gone by, making my heart race. He was voluntarily striking up a conversation with me, and I had to suppress my internal squeals.

"Criminal Psychology," I replied, my voice soft with a hint of shyness.

"Was not expecting that, may I ask why?" He spoke so politely, his undivided attention focused on me, a genuine interest in my response.

Grateful that he couldn't see my blush beneath the veil, I felt my face radiating heat. Times like these made me appreciate wearing the niqab. While it wasn't the primary reason for wearing it, it had certainly come through in such situations. Even with my expressive eyes, it was difficult to discern everything happening under this veiled visage, and there was always a lot going on, let me tell you.

"I've always loved the field of psychology, and when I came across criminal psychology, I was immediately drawn in and knew that it was my calling. An important part of what a criminal psychologist does is study why people commit crimes. I want to delve into the minds of criminals, understand what goes through, or went through, their minds when they committed their crimes, and also evaluate them to assess the risk of recidivism. I like to think I'd do a good job," I trailed off, realizing I had been rambling.

"That's incredible Halimah" He looked at me with an impressed expression, nodding and offering a soft smile. The sound of my name on his lips was like music, and I secretly hoped he'd say it more often. Oh Lord, what am I thinking?

"Thank you," I said, my cheeks once again burning with a blush.

A throat clearing interrupted our little bubble of conversation, snapping us back to reality. It was as if everything else faded into the background when we interacted. I wasn't sure how to feel about that.

"If you two don't mind, let's move to the living room and eat the ice cream," Uncle Hassan suggested with a teasing smile, glancing between me and Hassan.

I swiftly rose from my seat, heading out of the dining room before I could endure any more embarrassment. I overheard my dad's pitiful attempt at a whisper as he spoke to someone behind me, "She's a beauty, isn't she?"

"Most definitely," came a reply in that rich tone. My heart raced as I made my way to the living room where the women and Abu were now seated. I noticed my mother curiously looking at me, probably trying to figure out why I had almost skipped to my seat.

Even I didn't know why his comment had brought me such happiness. He could have just been agreeing to please my dad and be polite. Yet, for some reason, I sensed he was not the type to speak insincerely.

Great. I was already making up speculations about this total stranger, feeling validated in a way that he had said positive things about my appearance without even seeing my face. It wasn't that I needed his validation, but it still felt good. Pathetic, I know. But cut me some slack, will ya?

After we'd all settled in the living room with our ice cream, we spent our time watching television and engaging in casual conversation. I glanced over at Hassan, seated beside me on the left end of the sofa, and decided it was time to muster some courage and strike up a conversation. I had an overwhelming urge to get to know him better, like an itch that needed scratching, and I couldn't ignore it any longer.

"So, how are you liking it back here after so long?" I asked nervously, my voice barely above a soft tone.

Surprise flickered in his eyes as he fixed his gaze on me, I'm sure he had realized that I wasn't the most talkative person in the room, yet here I was, initiating a conversation.

That's when our conversation started, and it seemed to flow endlessly. We talked about his time at a London boarding school, my online university education, his decision to stay in London and build a career in tech – I was genuinely impressed by his success and the fact that he owned his own company at such a young age. We delved into my choice to wear the niqab, our respective childhoods in different countries , and many other topics that I wouldn't typically share with someone off the jump. It was really surprising how comfortable I felt opening up to a male who wasn't my mahrem. As the hours flew by, my parents finally announced that it was time to leave, and we began to prepare to go.

"It was really nice getting to know you, again" he added after an afterthought with a chuckle as he walked me to the door, while the rest of our group continued chatting inside. My parents had said they were ready to leave, but the conversation didn't seem to be ending any time soon. I wasn't even surprised at this point.

"It was," I replied quietly, my gaze fixed on the carpeted floor.

"Hopefully, we get to speak sometime?" He turned to look down at me by the door, where we waited for our parents and my brother, who appeared to be making his way towards us in slow motion.

Now, facing him, the height difference became more apparent. I barely reached his shoulder. Since I was taller than the average height for girls at 5'10, Hassan had to be around 6'4 or taller. I'd been taller than most guys my age for most of my life, so experiencing this difference felt surprisingly nice. I wasn't insecure about my height, but it was a nice change to feel small and cute next to a guy for once.

"I would like that," I said, genuinely meaning it. I couldn't help feeling a budding crush, and I knew it was pathetic, yet I couldn't deny the connection I was already starting to feel with this person that up till a few hours ago was a very distant memory to me.

~

How are we feeling about their first encounter after soooo many years? They were childhood bestiesss😭🩷. Please comment and vote, and don't be silent readers.