A Diamond In Islam: A Romance Novel

by S. Nahar

  My wings would soar when her hand left mine, a new beginning was waiting for me through married life, my childhood nest far from my mind with a lingering touch of nostalgia.

  She closed her eyes for a moment as if to calm herself down. I gripped her abaya tightly in my hands, scared to let her go, scared to let her accept the fact that I was no longer a kid. My former self was a shadow compared to the educated, confident, and strong Muslim woman I had become, where my faith stood proudly on its pedestal, my main priority in every action that I accomplished.

  I could hear the quiet sniffles around me. I knew this was very emotional for everyone in this room.

  “Amira?” Mum asked with her eyes still closed. She was breathing deeply.

  “Y-Yes?”

  Mum opened her eyes. “Promise me something.”

  “Anything,” I nodded quickly.

  “Promise you won’t forget about your family.” Tears still stained her cheek.

  “I promise,” I smiled sadly as I wiped her tears away just as she did with mine only moments ago. “I won’t ever forget my family. I won’t forget about you, Mum. I’m still your little girl, forever and always.”

  Her lips trembled. “Oh, Amira,” she hugged me again, her face resting on my shoulder as her tears started again. I gently patted her back and sniffled once more.

  She needed this moment more than she ever did.

  I looked around the room and saw everyone wiping their own tears. Glancing at Tasneem apologetically, I realized I probably ruined my makeup.

  Tasneem caught onto my thoughts because she simply said, “Good thing I brought waterproof makeup.”

  I’ve truly been blessed with amazing people in my life. Alhamdulillah (thanks to God).

  ***

  I had given my agreement to the witnesses and signed the marriage contract. Taking me out of the room, I was placed on the stage that was decorated in cloths of gold and red, the classic colors of a desi bride. I sat perched upon the cushions like a princess of royalty, watching the women file into the room, colorful lights flickering above like fairy lights in mystical realms.

  I was sitting beside the divider that separated the males and females. I hadn’t even seen Damon yet. The anxiety of how he would react to me was eating me up inside, nerves bundling like the first time he told me he loved me, like the night I left, and like the day he proposed.

  I glanced at the silver embroidery that decorated my gown in intricate vines of floral rhinestones and complex designs that emulated a traditional style. Heavy weights of hold rested against my chest and collapsed onto my wrists with disparate bangles of gold.

  “Oh my God, Amira,” Kanza laughed with two little kids following behind.

  “What?”

  “We have fulfilled the desi tradition,” she announced in a proud voice.

  I face palmed, knowing all too well what that meant. “Don’t tell me you made those kids steal his shoes while he prayed.”

  She grinned, broadly. “Yeah, I did.”

  “Kanza, what am I going to do with you?” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.

  Kanza stuck her tongue out at me, which I ignored. I glanced at the little girl with her jet black hair in a pretty braid down her back. She was wearing a purple lehenga (Bengali celebration gown) and shifted from foot to foot as she stared at me, eyes wide with curiosity.

  “You’re a really pretty bride,” the little girl said sheepishly.

  “Mash Allah (God has willed it),” Kanza chimed.

  I smiled at the little girl. “Not as beautiful as you will look when you’re older.”

  She giggled.

  Her brother, on the other hand, was dangling Damon’s shoes on his fingertips. He had midnight black hair like her, but his stopped at his neck, thick waves of black falling over his sun-kissed forehead.

  “What do I do with these?” he asked.

  I shot Kanza a warning glare.

  “Relax, Amira. He’s going to knock on the dividers and ask for them soon,” Kanza said, rolling her eyes.

  As if on cue, someone knocked on the dividers. It was Tanwir. “Guys! Give Damon his shoes back!”

  “That comes with a price,” Kanza yelled back.

  “She’s kidding! I’ll send the little boy with them now!” I shouted, signaling the little boy to return Damon’s shoes.

  “Aw man,” Kanza pouted.

  “Kanza, this is a wedding not an investment.”

  “A girl could hope,” she shrugged.

  Aunties gathered around the tables. Some were congratulating me personally while others stood on the sidelines, snapping quick photos of me to share with their relatives or to capture a peaceful moment.

  Children ran around playing games with their mothers hot on their trail. Some of the teenagers began to take selfies in every corner of the room with their friends. Cameras were flashing and aunties were murmuring duaas as they kissed my forehead.

  A microphone made an eerie sound and everyone cringed, their conversations halting. “Sorry,” said Tanwir, clearing his throat. “May I have everyone’s attention, please?”

  People started to quiet down. My friends had settled down in their seats, thus leaving me alone on the bench.

  “This is a very special day. I mean it’s not every day that my younger sister gets married,” chuckled Tanwir. “I wanted to say a few words about Amira. She’s one of the most important persons in my life. My sister is the reason why I became a better Muslim. She’s not an ordinary girl and I think the Muslim community noticed that when she was young. She’s different. Amira is the type of Muslim that is always conscious about her deen. She knows when she does something wrong and she learns from it. Along the way, she teaches others. If there’s one thing about my sister, it’s that she always puts others before herself.”

  The aunties nodded as they smiled at me. I immediately averted my gaze away from the attention.

  Tanwir continued. “When I was a teen I got caught up in the western ideologies and the American way of life. I neglected my faith, but Amira changed that. She was also so curious about Islam even from a young age. She’d ask my father nonstop questions as if to grasp the reason why she was a Muslim. She wanted to believe with all her heart, which she now shows in her every action.”

  The crowd reacted with awe as they heard Tanwir’s heartfelt speech. A slow smiled played onto my lips, and I tried so hard to resist it, but I couldn’t contain the pride that blossomed at hearing my older brother’s appreciation of our time together from childhood to adulthood. He had always been aware of my presence, of my likes and dislikes, of my journey to knowledge and love for Islam.

  “Usually, the older sibling finds the truth of Islam in their hearts first and guides the younger sibling. In our household, it was the opposite. Damon, you’re a lucky guy. Not too many guys can get a wife that’s a diamond in Islam,” he finished.

  I was in awe. That was my brother, my own flesh and blood. Friends came and left, but family stayed for life. If someone had asked me five years ago if Tanwir would ever say a speech about me, I would have laughed in their face.

  People started clapping and cheering. My heart swelled with pride. Tanwir really is the best older brother.

  ***

  “Amira, Damon’s going to come to the girl’s side for pictures. You cool?” Tasneem asked.

  “Not really,” I sighed, fidgeting in my seat.

  Tasneem sat down next to me, holding my hands in hers. “Amira, don’t you remember high school? Damon loves you. He defended Islam all those years ago. Allah brought Damon to Islam for a reason, and that all started with you, Amira. You changed his life for the better. You inspired him because you’re a practicing Muslim. You show people the light of Islam by just being yourself,” she said softly. “With that said, I’m pretty sure he’s desperate to see you after a whole month since he proposed.”

  “I guess you’re right,” I laughed a little. “Thanks for being there for me.”

 
“Amira, you’re like a sister to me. I’ll always be there for you.”

  Our conversation stopped as children started chanting, “The groom is here! The groom is here!”

  Tasneem winked at me and got off the bench, her Smartphone camera pointing directly at me. I shook my head at her. Some things never change.

  I gazed up towards Damon. He was staring right at me, eyes widening. Slowly, he walked towards me, ignoring the flashing lights behind and luminous shadows of guests.

  His beige garments resembled an Arabian prince, the hat of a sultan sat proudly on his head with the wrapping of silk shaping it. His eyes never left mine, a mixture of disbelief and awe settling in the iridescent glow that radiated off them.

  As he stood in front of me, I felt my heart thumping against my chest. Heat rose to my cheeks from his never wandering gaze. He sat down, quietly. Nothing came out of his lips. Did he regret marrying me already? I didn’t even do anything yet. I idly stared at my henna stained hands until a larger hand clasped onto my own. I focused on our interlocked fingers, refusing to look at him.

  Damon leaned in close to my ear. “Look at me, beautiful,” he said, as his hot breath blew against my veil.

  I did as he asked.

  He gave me his breathtaking smile that seemed to put my heart in cardiac arrest. Soon, I felt myself smiling back. This was real, not a figment of my imagination. We were married. I could touch him and hold him and kiss him all I wanted now. We were married, tied together under the grace and mercy of Allah.

  As if the thought ran a course in his mind, his smile widened, showing his pearly white teeth. “I swear; no girl will ever be as perfect as you.”

  “Damon, you don’t have to flatter me,” I laughed, lightly. “We’re already married now.”

  He moved his face closer to my own, squeezing my hand. “For the rest of our lives, I will tell you how perfect you are,” he said, as his lips brushed my cheek.

  Girls cooed at us and started snapping even more pictures.

  “I can’t believe this is real,” I whispered to him, keeping the bright smile on my face.

  He wrapped his arm around my waist. “Neither can I.”

  “Did you really wait this long to be with me?” I asked, curiously.

  Damon smirked. “You really thought I wasn’t going to marry you?”

  “Just a little bit,” I said as I gestured with my fingers how little it was.

  “Amira Sarker, you are mine. You came into my life, and now there is no chance that I will leave you ever again.”

  I leaned my head against his shoulder as he pulled me closer. “You sound like a dictator now,” I joked.

  He chuckled, kissing my forehead. “Only for you, sweetheart.”

  At this point, I think we killed half the girls in the room because their fangirling became too much.

  “My ship has officially sailed!” Tasneem yelled in happiness.

  I lifted my head off Damon’s shoulder, shaking my head at my friends in mocking disappointment. My friends made a wedding into a comedy. In all, Damon found it amusing, still keeping his arm around my waist and refusing to let go.

  “Oh, the feels!” Kanza exclaimed, dramatically falling into Tasneem’s arms.

  “I can’t believe these are my daughter’s friends,” muttered Baba, joining us on the bench for a family photo.

  Mum, Nani, Nanu, and Tanwir soon followed. Damon’s mother and brothers also stood on the stage with us.

  “Damon?” I asked.

  “Yeah?”

  “Where’s your dad?”

  He gave me a tight smile. “My dad... isn’t coming,” he said sadly.

  My parents’ eyes softened, staring at the man who risked everything to step towards Islam and dedicate his life to being a practicing Muslim. His father had clearly given him a hard time, and Damon tried to hide the effects of his father’s disaster towards his own son.

  “You’re a part of our family now, Damon,” said Baba. “We’ll be here for you as well as long as you take care of my daughter.”

  “Y-Yes sir,” gulped Damon.

  “He better take care of my granddaughter. I’ll beat him if he doesn’t,” Nanu huffed in Bangla, making my family and I laugh.

  “Your family sure is protective,” Damon commented.

  “Yeah, that’s why they added you to the bunch,” I said.

  Tanwir hit Damon’s shoulder. “You’re a part of the Sarker Family Protective Club over Amira,” he jokingly said.

  I rolled my eyes at Tanwir.

  “I already love your in-laws, Damon,” his mother laughed. “Such welcoming and humorous people aren’t they?”

  Damon smiled, gazing fondly at me. “Yeah, they are to have raised such an amazing daughter.”

  Our conversations halted as Zaynub, Imam Zakir’s wife, held her camera. “Smile, everyone,” Zaynub said.

  Snap.

  “I love you, Amira,” whispered Damon in my ear.

  “I love you more,” I whispered back.

  “Not possible.”

  In hardships, there was always ease. That was what made this fairy tale worth everything Damon and I went through. Now, we had the rest of our lives together. Forever.

  Chapter 55

  Finally His

  Damon Winters

  I was awakened by an athan (call to prayer). I reached over to my bedside night stand to turn off my alarm, turning over to see Amira peacefully sleeping beside me. Her long, silky, black hair cascaded around her in waves, perfect lips slightly parted as she gently exhaled.

  I couldn’t help but smile. She was so beautiful. I thought about last night, our Nikkah.

  Amira’s family definitely cared a lot about her. I’d never seen a family as overprotective as hers. Her father silently cried as I took Amira back to the hotel. It was understandable because right when she was about to live with her parents again, I married her. It must have broken her parents’ hearts.

  As I stared at her, I thought, maybe I should buy a house near her family. I landed a job in cyber security in the exact same company as Tanwir’s. I knew I wouldn’t be able to propose to Amira if I didn’t have a stable job first, so I practically begged Zakir to use some of his contacts to aid me.

  Gently stroking Amira’s cheek with my finger, I traced over her delicate features. Amira stirred. I stalled my movements. When she relaxed again to my touch, she snuggled closer. I placed a hand on her hip, molding her tempting body against mine, ignoring the burning need to keep her in bed for a couple more hours.

  “Wake up,” I huskily whispered, lips nipping at her earlobe.

  “No.”

  I chuckled. “You’re awake.”

  She opened her eyes, revealing her dark brown eyes. “I’ve been awake since you thought that tracing my face was a good idea,” she smirked.

  “I have no regrets.”

  “I didn’t expect you to.”

  I pulled away and said, “I’m going to take a shower before I pray.”

  She nodded and snuggled back into the sheets. They fell over her curves, giving my mind mental images of her naked figure. Damn, she was a sight to see. “You’re welcome to join me,” I winked.

  “I’m still sore,” she whined, playfully.

  I tensed. “Did I hurt you?” I asked, worriedly.

  “No. I’m just a bit sore,” she said then she waved me off. “Now go shower. You stink.”

  I rolled my eyes as I picked up my clothes and walked to the bathroom.

  ***

  After we both prayed, Amira and I relaxed on the bed. We still had two hours before her friends would come in and kick me out. Today was going to be our Walima (marriage banquet). We were going to leave right back to my place afterwards.

  I inwardly groaned, I have to drive the whole way.

  “Hey, Damon?” asked my wife’s soft honey-like voice as she absentmindedly traced circles on my chest.

  I looked down at her as she leaned against my arm. “Hmm?”

&nb
sp; Her finger tracing stopped as she asked, “Why doesn’t your dad come to our Walima?”

  I felt my body go rigid. This was a topic I wanted to avoid because I knew it would hurt Amira if I told her the truth. “It’s... complicated.”

  Her dark brown eyes stared into my green ones. She bit her lip. “Is it because you’re a Muslim?”

  I looked away from her. “Yes,” I mumbled.

  I felt shifting beside me. I could no longer feel Amira resting on my arm. I sighed. I knew she’d be hurt by the fact that her own father-in-law refused to meet her. I felt slender fingers tilt my chin as she rested her other hand on my cheek.

  We were so close that I could feel her minty breath hovering my face, my heart thumping against my chest. Her exotic eyes lured me in like a lost man, promising me her undivided love and attention, promising me a future of laughter, promising me her loyalty.

  I wanted to kiss her like I did last night. I wanted to ravish her and feel her soft body against my hard one. Under my sweat, I could feel a familiar stirring. Her plump lips were begging me to bite them. Images of the previous night flashed through my mind, but her eyes pinned me to stay still. She was so beautiful, it killed me.

  “I know it hurts that your dad won’t come, but I promise you that Allah will send good things your way if you’re patient with your father. Why don’t you call him and ask him to come one more time?” she asked.

  We were still talking about my father? Man, I was so mesmerized by her that he completely slipped my mind. I held Amira’s wrist when she was about to pull away.

  “Allah already sent good things my way,” I told her softly.

  “What?”

  I chuckled deeply, pulling her to my lap and wrapping my arms around her small waist. “You. Allah gave me you. You complete me, Amira. My dad can hate me as much as he wants, but at the end of the day I’m the luckiest man to ever live because I have you.”

  Then I kissed her.

  My Lord, her lips were so soft. They made me crazy, moving perfectly against mine. I bit her lip, asking for entrance. She opened her mouth to me and I felt myself groan at the feel, firmly holding her hips as I flipped us over so she was under me.