A/N: IMPORTANT: This is a disclaimer, there is a photo you will see later, the color of the hijab is as stated in the chapter, the image is purely a reference to style and makeup. The girl in the image is NOT Dina, again, purely a wonderful model of the look I have in mind for the outfit.

Alriggghhhttt this is a big chapter!! Big things happen here. Comment your thoughts and opinions, lets have a chat about how you think the story is going! I'll see you guys at the end!

Dina

The weekend was quickly approaching and I had my bag packed for the three days I would spend with my family. My head was on Amity's lap, she sat on my bed and combed through my hair. After my talk with Farouz, I somehow ran all the way back to the dorm and managed to live through the most catastrophic meltdown I've ever experienced. When I came to, Amity was holding me and we were both on the ground of the bathroom. She made me a warm drink and listened as I told her what happened, skipping over the story of his childhood, of course. My best friend wisely told me not to jump to anything, and give myself time to think. I gave myself too much time, now I was leaving for home tomorrow and I still hadn't come to a conclusion.

Amity ran her fingers through my hair and said, "so, what are you going to do? Do you want to marry him?"

"That would mean leaving this beautiful dorm room," I attempted to joke, "and you."

"Don't worry about me," she smiled, "I can tell you like him."

"But this is the rest of my life Amity," I groaned, "I don't want to make the wrong decision."

She hummed in agreement, then said, "what about that prayer you guys do that helps you make decisions?"

"Istikhara," I explained, "and I've prayed it, three times."

"And?"

"I get the same dream every time. This warm glow in my chest and I'm wearing white," I sighed, lost in the dream.

Amity laughed, "Dina, I think you've made your decision already."

I sat up, "you're right," my face flushed, "how do I tell him? Before I leave?" She gave me a pointed look, "his work! He's probably there, right? Will you drive me?"

***

Amity and I sat in the car, "never mind," I smiled sweetly, "take me home I change my mind."

She threw her head back and groaned, "Dina, it's going to be okay. I promise."

I took a deep breath to calm myself down, she was right. Marriage is literally an entire half of my religious duties, and I've prayed to God so many times. This can't be the wrong decision. My faith is in Him now, and I trust it completely. Whatever happens from now on, is what God wants, and God never gives a person more than he or she can handle. So I can handle whatever comes next. Inshallah (if God wills) it won't be bad.

The secretary was typing on her desktop when we entered the waiting room, "hello," I greeted her as politely as I could. Talking to people I didn't know well made me really shaky and it often came off as rude, "is Doctor Farouz here?"

She gave me a side glance and said, "do you have an appointment?"

"No," Amity spoke for me, sensing my panic, "but is he here?"

The secretary, Kassandra I think, said, "you can't see the doctor without an appointment. I'd be happy to book you one."

"It's fine," I smiled, "we'll just go."

Amity stomped over to the desk, "alright, I'd like an appointment for right now."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," she shot back, giving my best friend a nasty glare, "the next one is in two months."

"You didn't even look at your calendar!" Amity yelled.

"Oops," Kassandra giggled, "four months."

"Oh you little–"

"What's going on?" Farouz stepped out of his office, stopping in his tracks when he saw us, "sister Dina! Uh, Salam. Um, hello Amity."

Amity smiled and stepped back, leaving only Kassandra in between us. "Sir, they don't have an appointment and this one," she pointed at my best friend, "started yelling at me!"

"Only because you were being rude," I shot back. Surprising myself and everyone else in the room. "We were actually just leaving."

"What?" Amity and Farouz said in unision. "We were?" Amity questioned.

"Yes," I took her hand and headed for the door, "sorry for the disruption doctor, Salam." And with that, we walked out.

"What did you do?" Amity yelled when we were in the car, "did you seriously just chicken out!"

"No," I replied calmly, "that was not the modest and Muslim way to do it." She quieted down and listened. That is honestly one of my favorite things about Amity, she always tried her best to understand my culture and religion even though she was the complete opposite. "I'll tell the sheikh to give him my father's number. That way I stay out of it, as I should." Yes, that was the right thing to do. He asked me first, to see if I agree or not because he remembered me telling him I prefered it that way. That was enough interaction between the two of us, now, I am officially out of the whole affair, as I should be. The entire thing will be dealt with through my father. He and I should not have any communication at least until we are officially engaged. By having Sheikh give him the number I am letting him rethink his choice and make his move as he wishes. I just hope he makes the move and goes through with it.

My best friend smiled, "you sly dog you."

"I'm not being sly," I smiled, "I'm going the religiously correct thing."

***

Today was my second day at home, and there was a peace I hadn't felt in a very long time, I've only spoken in Arabic since I got here, and in a weird way that really made me feel good. I missed talking in my native tongue.

My two younger brothers, nine and fourteen, were sitting on the floor in front of me playing cards. My father was reading Qu'ran (the Islamic book) in the backyard and my mother and I had just finished preparing dinner, so we were both sitting and watching her favorite TV show. For some odd reason, I wasn't worried about Farouz, or what he decided to do. I had done all I was asked for and now this was all in the hands of God, and that gave me a sense of calm I really needed.

"Alright," mama closed the TV and sat up, "let us set the table Dina, I think everyone's getting hungry by now."

As we were eating, my father asked, "how is school Dina?"

"Good, alhamdulillah."

"I'm surprised you made it this far," he chuckled and wiggled his eyebrows at me to let me know he was joking. There it was again, a seemingly harmless joke that hurt my feelings and never failed to bring tears to my eyes.

"Me too," I forced a laugh and then focused on my food.

"But in all honesty," he continued, "we are proud of you for doing so well in school and continuing to live by your religion."

"Thank you papa," I smiled, genuinely, "I try my hardest."

"I still think you should transfer here," my brother chimed in, "so we can keep you safe."

"I'm very capable of protecting myself," I laughed, "you just miss me."

"Yes, he does," my youngest brother said, "I miss you too."

Unexpected tears sprung into my eyes once again as it hit me how much I missed seeing their faces every day. "I miss you guys too," I sniffled, trying to hide my tears, "but here I am! So quit missing me and eat!"

The two of them laughed and then quickly inhaled their food, "alhamdulillah! (Thank God / A saying for when one finishes eating) We're going to play on the trampoline," Zaid, the 14 year old, exclaimed, "thank you for the food it was delicious!"

"You're welcome!" Mama and I both replied as the two of them ran to wash their hands before they went to play.

Mother and I had just finished cleaning after dinner, and we were all sitting outside in the backyard sipping on tea as we watched my brothers jump around. "I miss having you around here," mama said, "no one else helps me," she gave my father a pointed look.

"I try my best!" papa defended himself, "I have to work too, you know."

"You always put everything in the wrong place," mother commented.

"Well then we should rearrange everything to where I put them."

"Ha! No," mama laughed.

"Ha! Yes!" Papa snapped back.

"You're like children," I joked as I sipped my tea, "always arguing about silly things."

My mother laughed, "oh the light hearted bickering is one of the best parts of being married," she said, "you'll find out soon Inshallah (if Allah wills it.)"

I didn't say anything to that. Just hummed a response and stood up to go play with my brothers. Five minutes in, they were arguing about I don't know what and I somehow ended up in the middle trying to separate them. Then the bell rang. I looked back to see my parents share a look and hear my father say, "Dina, why don't you take your brothers to the park?"

My heart rate sped up with both hope and fear. Was that him? Who did he bring with him? Oh I hope he didn't come alone! My dad would never agree if he shows up alone that's a sign of disrespect to my father. "Okay," I managed to say. Thankfully I already had my hijab (head scarf) on. So I ran to grab my father's car keys and I pulled out just as he went to answer the door.

***

Mama and Papa didn't mention the visit when we returned from the park. And they acted no different than before we left, so I assumed it was a normal visit from their friends. The rest of the weekend went on casually, and then, before I knew it, it was time to go back to school.

"Oh come on Ali!" my mother groaned, "you haven't eaten anything since yesterday!" My youngest brother shrugged and refused to touch his lunch.

I reached for his hand, "why aren't you eating? Do you want me to make you something else?"

He looked up at me and said, "I just don't want you to leave!"

"Aw honey," I chuckled and pulled him closer to me, "you know I have to go, because it's very important to learn."

"Can't you learn here?"

"Well," I replied, "I can, but the college I go to is a much better place to learn and it makes me even smarter! Don't you want me to become smarter?" He nodded, "then I have to go! So then after, I can get a good job and buy you a lot of presents and toys!" I tickled my little brother and he let out a squeal of laughter.

When I stopped, he sighed, "okay, you can go. But come back fast!"

"I will, now, do you want to eat this yummy food? Or should I eat all of it?"

Ali exclaimed a high pitched, "no!" and dived into his lunch. "This is my chicken!" he said protectively.

My mom laughed at him, then she quickly quieted down and when I looked up, her eyes had filled with tears. Mama stood up and walked away from the table. With a frown, I followed, "mama? Why are you crying what's wrong? Are you okay?"

She sniffled and nodded, "you're going to be a wonderful mother someday." She said, wiping her tears with her sleeve, "you grew up so fast. There's always men knocking on our door and asking for your hand these days."

My heart skipped a beat, "well don't worry," I said lightly, "I'm not going anywhere yet."

"I'm not so sure about that." She said, walking into my room and sitting on my bed. "The people that visited us yesterday? Another proposal."

"Oh," I tried to sound casual.

Mom laughed, "oh don't pretend you didn't know he was coming!" she pushed me lightly, "sheikh was accompanied by a very handsome young man. A doctor! He explained that you two interacted a few times through his friends, your classmates. And he developed an interest in you," mama wiggled her eyebrows. I hid my blushing face in a pillow and groaned, mainly trying to hide my smile. "Your father was very hard on him," she continued. Oh no, here it is, he rejected him. "Asking him why his real parents couldn't come. But the young doctor explained that he was a convert, and his parents were not supportive of his beliefs. So Sheikh practically adopted him as his Muslim son, and that's why he brought him. Your father, of course, was hooked when the doctor said he converted, and asked for a story. The doctor–"

"Mama why do you keep referring to him as the doctor?"

She giggled, "because it sounds so good! Young doctor! Even if he is a psychologist, it's still a very respectable job." Considering my parents views on mental illness, the fact that she spoke so highly must be a good sign. Plus he probably mentioned the salary, "it pays very well!" Op, there it is! "Anyway, he told your father that he met a Muslim friend, Aladdin was his name, in high school and realized that Islam answered many of his questions. He said it made him feel safe, so he converted. Such a beautiful story." The full story is better, I thought. "He kept saying that he would be honored to marry you and he would dedicate his life to making you the happiest woman alive. Oh and guess what else he said!" Mama bounced excitedly like a teenage girl talking about her first crush.

"What?" I tried sounding as casual and nonchalant as possible.

"He said, and I quote, 'I want to strengthen my faith with your daugher inshallah, it would be the greatest honor to enter heaven with her.'" My mom squealed, "that did it for your father! Of course he didn't tell them that. He politely told them we'd think about it and he walked them out. He thought about it all day yesterday and today. Then he prayed Istikhara this morning and finally, he said to me, 'Shaymaa, ask the girl what she would like. It is her decision in the end. But I feel he is the best we have seen!'"

I felt like this was all too good to be true, "walahi(swear in the name of God) mama? Are you being serious?"

"Of course I am! So just think about it. Take your time." She smiled softly, "oh my sweet girl, ready for marriage."

***

Am I ready for marriage though? I mean, don't get me wrong, the fact that he actually met with my parents and asked for my hand made my stomach fill with butterflies and my heart want to sing. Everytime I imagine him standing at the door, with his hands behind his back in the professional manner he uses when he's at work; or when he's sitting on the couch, his elbows on his knees as he leans forward to talk to my father, I want to laugh and smile and cry all at the same time. But there was always this looming thought of what if this is the wrong decision? This is the rest of my life! Can I really spend the rest of my life with him? There aren't little things he does that will drive me crazy? Does he chew with his mouth open? Or does he chew loudly? That would be an immediate deal breaker, I can't stand loud chewers.

Did he snore? Was he a clean person? Did he leave the bathroom a mess in the mornings? I absolutely can not stand when there's water all around the sink, or when people squeeze the toothpaste tube from the middle. Does he want kids? I know it may seem like it's too soon to think of this stuff, but I don't want to fight about whether or not I should have kids! It's my right! What if he's one of those guys that gets married but spends all his time with his friends? Will I always be alone in the house? What if he doesn't like my cooking?

I screamed from my spot in the passenger seat. Amity jumped and pressed on the brakes so hard the car jutted forward. "Dina what the heck?!" She hit my arm, "I'm driving!" We were on our way back to the university, and she insisted on driving for the first half. "Don't scare me like that!"

"Sorry," I giggled, "I just keep thinking: what if this is the wrong choice?"

She sighed, "why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Doubting yourself!" She said, "you want this, don't you?" I shrugged. "I mean, technically, you've already made your decision when you told the sheikh to give him your dad's number. Right?" When I didn't reply, she said, "right?" with more emphasis.

Sighing, I said, "you're right. I should stop scaring myself and have faith in God's plans for me."

"Exactly!"

Still, I waited to tell my parents about my decision until I saw him again on Thursday. I didn't talk to him, just wanted to see him one more time and make sure that what I was feeling was still there. That Thursday, him and his friends walked into the coffee shop later than usual, but they were as loud and playful as ever. Brendan waved at Amity and she waved back. Farouz walked up to our table and said, "assalamualaikum."

"Wa Alaikum," I replied, not meeting his eyes. Then he turned and walked to his friends, the small exchange was more than enough for both of us; I sat in silence trying to process the emotions going through me. My heart was beating fast and my breath was coming in short gasps. But this wasn't a panic attack, it felt good. It felt like I was flying. I know how cheesy that sounds, but just one word from him made me so happy. I was definitely making the right decision inshallah (if God wills it). "Amity," I turned around to my friend, who was sipping my drink, "dude that's mine!" I yelled.

"Sorry," she sputtered, wiping her mouth, "it's really good. What were you going to say?"

"I'm gonna call my mom, and say yes."

***

Everything happened so quickly after that. The next long weekend I had, Amity and I drove home to my house. Farouz and Sheikh visited our house and we all read Al Fatiha (The first Surah in the Qu'ran, titled 'the opening. Read at the beginning of marriages.) We were all sitting in the living room, having tea when my mother brought up the engagement party. And in all honesty, I've always dreamed of a big, fancy party. But at that moment, having a good time with these people was all that mattered. Allah (God) blessed me with a caring family, a good friend, and a nice future husband Inshallah.

So we all agreed to have a small gathering of friends the following weekend at Austin, where my University and his home were. There he would give me my engagement ring. And it would be official.

And that's exactly what happened. When we got back to Austin, Amity took me shopping. Again, if I were to be honest, I was fine wearing a dress I already had in my wardrobe. But she wouldn't have it. "My best friend is going to be a princess during that party, alright?" So we spent hours and hours going to different malls and trying on dresses. Finally, we settled on a flowy, coral pink dress with a simple design. "Oh!" Amity placed her hand on her heart, "I'm emotional!"

I twirled in the mirror of our small dorm, "isn't this a bit extra?"

"Extra?" She questioned, "Extra! You're getting engaged Dina! This doesn't happen every day."

Then bam, suddenly it was Saturday, and we were on our way to the reception area Farouz rented out for the night. My stomach felt funny and while Amity and my mother were making jokes, I was focused on not puking. My silver hijab felt suffocating and the makeup Amity put on my face itched. "Guys," I squeaked from the backseat of the car.

"Yes?" Amity turned to look at me.

"I don't feel very good right now," I tried focusing on my breathing, but I couldn't reach any air. "I can't breath."

My mom said, "it's just nerves dear, make Du'aa, it'll calm you down."

But Amity could tell when a panic attack was building up. "Auntie pull over please. I think she needs some air." My mom did as she was told, and Amity helped me out of the car and held my hands. "Hey, Dina, look at me." I did, "deep breaths okay? Calm down, focus on the feeling of my hands. Find something to ground you. Now, breathe in for 1...2...3...4...5... and out. 1...2...3...4...5. Again, repeat." She stood there with me, saying the same thing until my breathing slowed down. "Better?" she asked. I nodded. "Honey, don't overthink this. Farouz is a nice, Muslim man that really cares about you. And you've lived your life as your God wanted you to. You deserve this, it'll be okay. Alright?"

After a few seconds, I nodded, "right, you're right."

"Okay," she gave me a long hug, "now let's go get you engaged!"

Everything was beautiful at the reception. The food was nice and Amity didn't leave my side for the entire night. Brendan and Aladdin were there. They congratulated me and teased Farouz all through the night. Since it was only an engagement, the two of us couldn't be alone without a chaperone. Plus I believe we were both to nervous to be alone anyway. So we spent the entire night with our friends and family.

Just a few hours before it was time to go, I was sitting in between my brother Zaid, and Amity. They were talking about a video game the two of them really liked when Farouz walked up to us. "Salam," he greeted. We replied, then he said, "Zaid, do you mind if I take your spot for a few minutes?"

My brother hesitated, but when my dad gave him a warning glare, he quickly got up and ushered for Farouz to sit. Suddenly everyone was watching us. Farouz cleared his throat, looked at me and said, "I... um... " he stuttered for a while, cleared his throat again, then said, loudly so everyone can hear: "Thank you, to Mr. Ramadan, for giving me his blessing and allowing me the privilege of having your daughter's hand." He looked at my father and said, "I will dedicate my life to her happiness and to making you proud as my father in law Inshallah." Then he turned to me, "and...Dina." Everything around us faded, all I could feel was his hand gently reach for mine and all I heard was his voice, "you're putting your faith in me by agreeing to marry me. You are trusting me with your safety, and the rest of your life. And with Allah's help, I will fill your life with as much happiness and joy as I can."

He's mine. Those brown eyes that I drown in every time they look at me: they're mine. His smile, his hair, and everything about him is mine. And I am his. At that moment I felt complete and utter bliss. I made the right decision. Because there is no way on earth that this feeling is wrong. He was looking at me with those eyes as if there were a million things he wanted to say. And I heard them all. I've already started falling in love with him, and Alhamdulillah (thank God), I will continue to fall for him as long as Allah permits me to live. This is why God has strict rules on romance and dating. This feeling can only be felt with one person, and I want to spend the rest of my life feeling it with that person. With Farouz.

I watched as he took a small box with our rings in it. And I didn't care if they were golden or plastic. They bound us together, and that makes them the most valuable rings in my eyes. But of course, they were beautiful rings. Mine a soft rose gold with a beautiful diamond, and his a simple ring with simple designs. Farouz took my left hand, looked into my eyes and softly said, "may I?"

"Yes," I replied. A hundred times yes. He slipped the ring onto my finger then set my hand back. Already, I was yearning for his touch. So I took his ring, and his hand, and slowly slid the ring onto his finger. Trying to take as much time as possible.

Then it was done, I had my ring and he had his. We were engaged, bound forever. Wherever he goes I go. Inshallah, we will be each other's guide to heaven. 

A/N: :) :) :) :)

AGAIN: THE GIRL IN THE IMAGE IS NOT DINA! She just represents the hijab and makeup style.

Thank you thank you thank you!!! For all your support! It's only chapter 4 and I have over 300 reads?? That's insane! I can't believe how amazing you've all been! I've gotten meaningful messages and comments that I no longer know who to dedicate the chapters to. You're all freaking amazing and I love you.

All your votes and comments really REALLY make me happy. Keep being active! I like hearing from you!

See you next Friday!