Chapter 7

With great difficulty, I dragged myself to my room after telling my mother that I wanted to sleep because I hadn’t slept the night before. I asked her not to wake me for lunch, assuring her that I’d prepare something for myself when I woke up.

I waited for the time of prayer, performed my prayers, and prayed earnestly to God to help me get through these days peacefully. I lay down, feeling as if I weighed a ton under the weight of my worries. Ahlam on one side, and Faisal and his proposal that seemed to have no visible impact on the other. But the biggest worry was how I would reject him a second time, with a thousand questions swirling in my mind. How did Faisal overcome my initial rejection? How could he propose again? What would Hossam’s reaction be? How, how, how?

A headache began pounding in my head. I sought refuge in God from Satan and started reciting prayers silently until I felt some relief, and my eyes began to close.

I was awakened by my brother Hossam, trying to rouse me from sleep. “Hossam, please let me sleep a little longer,” I begged, but he persisted, saying, “Get up, it’s time for Asr prayer, and you’re still asleep.”

I sought God’s forgiveness and got up. I looked at Hossam and saw that he was smiling—a smile filled with joy, pride, and a sense of victory, all wrapped in tenderness. I don’t know how to describe it. Have you ever seen someone smile with kindness, pride, and a hint of triumph, all laced with warmth? That’s what I felt in my brother’s smile.

For some reason, his smile was contagious, and I found myself smiling too. My lips seemed to force themselves into a smile. I asked him, “Hossam, what’s behind that smile?”

He got up from my bed and sat on the chair beside it, saying, “It’s all good news. Have you ever seen a smile that didn’t hide something good behind it?”

I replied honestly, “Insha’Allah, it’s all good.”

Then he said, “Why don’t you get up, do your ablutions, and pray? Ask God to grant you goodness.”

I knew what he was hinting at with that request for prayer, so I got up in silence, performed my ablutions, laid out my prayer mat, and stood before my Creator.

After completing my prayer, I looked over to where Hossam was sitting and saw that his smile hadn’t faded. He said, “May your prayers be accepted.”

I replied, “May yours and mine be accepted.”

I sat down on the bed, and Hossam began to speak.

“Mona, have you ever doubted my love for you?”

“No, never.”

“Have you ever doubted that I would always stand by you and look out for your best interests?”

“No, never.”

I felt my heart pounding so hard it might burst from my chest. His introduction only heightened my anxiety, so I decided to cut him off.

“Hossam, get to the point.”

He smiled and said jokingly, “It’s a problem when a girl becomes smart.”

“Believe me,” I said, “it’s more of a problem for those around her because her intelligence makes her understand things as they are, not as others want them to be presented.”

“Please, get to the point.”

Hossam nodded. “Alright, straight to the point. The first word is Faisal.”

I took a deep breath and asked, “What about him?”

“He’s proposed to you again. His uncle spoke to our Uncle Khalid, who gave his word that he’d approve after getting your consent. So, what do you say? What should I tell Uncle Khalid? He’s asked me to get your answer.”

I tried to speak, but Hossam cut me off, saying, “Please, Mona, there’s no need to think it over. We know the man, and you at least know him by appearance. As for his character, leave that to me—I’ll write you a guarantee of his good behavior. As for how he’ll behave at home, well, no one can give you a guarantee on that because it’s all in God’s hands. Still, I can vouch for him by 50%, and that’s a solid percentage for something as uncertain as this.”

He spoke with such ease, a smile never leaving his face. Yet with every word, I heard Ahlam’s voice in my head, calling me a traitor.

Hossam’s voice pulled me from my dark thoughts as he asked, “What’s your answer?”

I replied, “What’s the percentage of refusal I’m allowed, since you’re so good with numbers?”

Our eyes met—Hossam’s gaze was reproachful, while mine was lost and aimless.

“The percentage of refusal you’re allowed is zero,” Hossam said. “Faisal is not someone you can turn down twice. His proposal was made by his eldest uncle and received by your eldest uncle. The groom is a man of high morals, and his uncle assured ours that Faisal would bring you home every weekend so distance and separation won’t be an excuse for refusal.”

I tried to speak, but Hossam didn’t give me a chance. “And don’t use the age difference as an excuse,” he added. “It’s not convincing. I heard you with my own ears, telling Ahlam that you wouldn’t marry someone your age—you’d prefer someone ten years older at most. Am I right?”

I felt cornered, unable to say anything. Hossam continued, “All the signs point to saying yes. You may feel wronged now, but you’ll realize later that this ‘injustice’ was the first step toward your happiness.”

He got up, walked toward the door, then turned and said, “Congratulations. I’ll inform Uncle Khalid of your acceptance. A man like Faisal doesn’t propose twice—refusing him once is rare, refusing him twice is unheard of. You’re a lucky girl. A man like Faisal is a blessing. You pushed it away once; don’t do it again. Thank God for this blessing, and pray it doesn’t slip away.”

He left the room, closing the door behind him, leaving me in silence.

I lay down on my bed, not wanting to get up and face my mother’s questions and advice, which I surely wouldn’t be able to respond to or engage with. What’s happening is beyond my capacity.