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This chapter is a completely new addition to the story.

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Hamza

"I wish I'd aborted him." Mum's harsh words still rang in my ears as she had yet another massive argument with Papa, when I was nine. "In fact, I wish I'd never married you!"

And yet, under some unfair ruling, she had been awarded my custody after claiming for it.

"Hania deserves better. If she marries you, it would be like her punishment in this world for any sins that she has committed." Rabia had bitterly snapped at me.

My boot splashed into a puddle and I momentarily glanced down, before bringing my camera back up and adjusting the angle to capture yet another photo of the stunning English countryside.  Whenever I was upset, I went on photography sprees.

It had been drizzling a while ago, but it had now stopped, leaving behind the smell of wet earth, and a beautiful rainbow in the sky. 

I stood in the narrow country lane, with my car parked a few yards away, staring out at the natural beauty surrounding me.

 Natural beauty. 

I couldn't help thinking of Hania as I thought those words. She really was beautiful, even without make-up. I'd never seen her with heavy make-up, just eyeliner which highlighted her big brown eyes.

My father had always taught me that when you hurt someone, Allah doesn't forgive you until the person does. I had been planning on intentionally ruining Hania's happiness by using her as a trophy wife. Hania would have been devastated had she found out, and her parents would have been absolutely furious. I wouldn't even have blamed them if they had unintentionally given a badua to me for breaking the heart and the spirit of a person who was as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside.

My phone started ringing and I pulled it out, annoyed. As I glanced at the screen, I muttered under my breath, "What does this idiot want?" I answered the call, slipping the phone back into my pocket, as I'd had the earphones attached.

*Upon the special request of my dear Wattpad friend ShabanaTheStar I'm going to introduce someone much earlier than I'd intended, but please, no spoilers at all. Not even a hint.

"Where are you these days, bro?" The voice of my best friend, Faiz Jamshed made me smirk. 

"Why, you missing me?" I asked.

I'd moved to London to be with my father when I'd turned eighteen. I'd started university here and had met Faiz Jamshed there. He and I got along almost naturally, and we had been best friends since day one. His father owned the Rose Luxe chain of hotels, and as of yet, he intended to remain a part of that hotel business.

"I'm enjoying the peace." Faiz laughed. "I came by your house, but Uncle Dan said that you were out." He jokingly called my father 'Uncle Dan', which amused Papa greatly. 

"Yeah, I wanted to take some photos." I stared down at my camera and deleted the latest photo as I wasn't satisfied with it.

"So, I heard rumours of rishta talks regarding you?" He asked. "Who is the poor Bhabi-to-be that I should get sympathy flowers for on the eve of the Nikah?" 

"Her name is Hania Fawad." I sighed. "And I'm not sure if this is happening. I've messed up too much, Faiz." 

"You know," He said. "When my sister Rida got married, Mamma asked her to do an Istikhara. Do it, bro." 

"What's that?" I was puzzled. "I've heard Papa mention it, but I never asked for details." 

Faiz explained to me what it was.

"And you just follow the result?" I asked. "How do you know though?"

"It's about complete faith, Hamza. And I have no idea, but Mamma says that you'll just know. Get Uncle to guide you." 

Faiz had five sisters, all younger than him. Ma Sha Allah. Naturally, that made him very protective of them. 

"Faiz, what will you do if a guy marries any of your sister just to keep her as a trophy wife?" I asked, thoughtfully.

"I'll rip their throat out." He replied without hesitation. "My sisters are not objects, and I will kill anyone who tries to treat them as such. You either show complete regard to them or you f**k off. It's as simple as that." 

"I may have planned to do that with Hania." I admitted. "But as I was planning it, Rabi's engagement was called off. The whole concept of 'what goes around, comes around' has really shaken me, man."

"You dumba**. Rabia is like a little sister to you, and yet you want to do that to someone else's daughter?" Faiz actually sounded mad. "If Hania was one of my sisters, Hamza, I would have jumped through the phone and killed you right now." 

"I know. When her engagement ended, it shook me to the core." I sat down on the stone wall dividing the country lane from the fields. It was wet, but I didn't care right now. 

"Apologise to her. Come clean. And then see if she wants to start over or if she wants to end things right here." He said. "But if you keep this to yourself, and it brews up later in the marriage, she won't be able to trust you again. Start your married life with honesty, if she's willing to marry you. If she's not, respect her decision and move on." 

"I guess you're right. I should talk to her." 

****

"Papa, I want to talk to Hania." I told my father as I got home. "Can you arrange a meeting, in the presence of her parents?" 

Well, her parents would be around, but I would rather that they didn't hear the conversation as I spoke to Hania. I wanted her to hear me out, and then it was her call whether she wanted to tell her parents or not.

He looked at me from across his desk in his study. "Hamza, I'm asking you this one more time: are you willing to marry Hania?" 

"I am." 

"And are you doing this because of me, or is this something that you want for yourself? Be honest with me, because both your lives and future depend on this."

"I want this for myself." I admitted, honestly.

He stood up and walked around to where I was and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Your socialising will have to decrease to a great amount. In fact, your social life should only involve decency and acceptable places. Hania would have a great part in that, and even if she's not there at times, you will never behave in a way that would cross the limits of Islam and our culture. Natalia will have to be completely out of your life, with no communication at all. I've never liked your friendship with a non-mehram girl anyway, but it's even more important when you have a wife.  Do you accept these conditions?"

"I do." 

"Do not let me down, Hamza. Do not let Hania down." He said. "I'm only going to approach Dr Fawad and Mrs Fawad if you reassure me that you won't emotionally and mentally destroy their daughter, and that she will remain happy with you." 

"Papa, I can reassure you that." 

"But the most important thing that should determine your treatment of Hania is the fear of Allah. It may seem that we may get away with a lot, Hamza, but He is watching everything. He notices every injustice, every broken heart and every harsh word. Do not ever let these into your marriage. Hania is an innocent soul, with a pure heart. If hurting a person is a sin, hurting a person like her is even worse, because of her sweet and gentle character." He continued. "I'm your father, but I will not tolerate any injustice against my daughter-in-law." 

I nodded.

"Like Hania is a shining example of her parents' brilliant upbringing, I want you to remember what I've taught you. Make me proud, Hamza. Don't humiliate me in front of Hania's parents and Allah."

His words were deep and heavy and I was absorbing them quietly. 

"I reassure you, Papa. I will try and be the best possible husband to Hania. You can go ahead and speak to Fawad Uncle and Jasmina Aunty about my marriage to Hania." 

****

Ismael

"So, it seems like our Hania's rishta is being fixed." Papa announced over dinner one day.

My heart sank and I almost choked on my rice.

"Ma Sha Allah!" Naz Mama smiled. "Who's the incredibly lucky young man?" 

"Hamza Daniyal. Remember we met Mr Daniyal when Fawad and Jazzy were still here?" Papa replied.

That reckless biker guy? I felt nauseated all of a sudden.

"Is he good enough for our Hani Jaani?" Ahad Chachu frowned, concerned.

"If Fawad and Jazzy agree to this, then obviously." Papa said. "But Jazzy did request that we meet up with some of their close relatives in Lahore, just to get an idea of the sort of khandan they are from." 

"Ismael, are you okay? You look pale?" Naz Mama suddenly looked concerned.

Ibrahim was staring at me from across the table, and I hoped that he wouldn't say a word. He looked sympathetic, but he didn't say anything, maintaining the Bhai Code.

"I can't wait for Hani Appi's wedding!" Amara already got excited. She loved weddings.

"You know, Hamza gave me young Ahad vibes." Papa looked at his younger brother. 

"Well, let's just hope that he turns out the way Ahad has turned out." Zoya Chachi looked worried. "Our Hania is so innocent and shy." 

Sweet and shy Hania. That's what I loved the most about her. I loved her awkwardness, the way she was. I loved her soft, kind and compassionate heart. I loved her thoughtfulness, her smile and her ability to cheer up others.

Ya Allah! I love Hania.

****

Hania

"Hania, where are you?" 

I was in Papa's study, typing up a new story on my laptop, with my legs folded underneath me on the chair. "I'm in the study, Mama!" 

Mama came in. "I'm heading to the supermarket with Iman. You want anything?" 

"Iman's going grocery shopping with you?" I laughed.

She smiled. "Yes, and I'm so unbelievably happy. Who would have ever thought that my daughter accompanying me for grocery shopping will give me so much pleasure one day?" 

"Well, if it makes you so happy, I'll come as well. Double happiness, right?" I turned off my laptop and stood up.

"Did your Papa inject me with some prescription drugs, and am I so high that I'm hearing things now?" Mama was dramatic as always.

I rolled my eyes. "Take it or leave it, mother." 

"Come on." She grinned. "My two babies coming with me!" 

"This is exactly why we don't come with you!" Iman's teasing voice came from down the hall. 

"You know, you both should thank me." Mama looked at each of us in turn. "I can easily just order you to come, or even better, to go and do the shopping yourselves as you're old enough. But I have a heart of gold, so I do it myself." She slid one arm through each of our arms, and we headed out. 

Mothers are so cute, getting happy by the smallest things.

****

"Appi!" Iman called out.

"What?" I was selecting ice cream, while Iman was looking around in general. I looked up and saw her holding a box of potato smileys. 

"Remember how much we used to eat these?" She laughed. "Mama used to say..."

"Aloo hi banjao gi ek din." We both finished together.

*"You'll become a potato one day."

We both started giggling.

Mama returned from the pharmacy section and raised her eyebrows. "I really should stop leaving my kids unattended." 

Suddenly, Iman looked nervously towards me, before walking over to our mother, dropping her voice. "Did you get it, Mama?" 

"I've got it, don't worry." She smiled at her, reassuringly.

"Get what?" I asked, curiously.

"Nothing! It's personal!" Iman looked embarrassed.

I dropped the subject, but I'm guessing that it probably was a female sanitary product. I remember how I always sent Mama to get my pads when I first started my periods, because I was so embarrassed. Now I just embraced it as a part of who I was as a female, and with the graceful presence of self-service kiosks, shopping for them had become much easier.

As I walked ahead of my mother and sister, I heard Mani whisper, "Thank you, Mama."

"For what?" Mama sounded bewildered.

"For respecting my privacy and keeping my secret." 

I couldn't help smiling fondly. Mani was so cute.

"Baby, have I ever exposed your secrets?" Mama asked her. "I would never do that. What you want to keep private, I will respect that, unless I feel like it's a threat to your health or safety." 

 "Well, thank you anyway." She said. 

We were waiting in the queue to pay, when I saw a guy in a leather jacket, who strongly resembled Hamza. My heart automatically skipped a beat and I bit back a smile.

Ya Allah, please let Hamza be the right choice for me, otherwise I'm just setting myself up for a heartbreak.

****

Iman and I stood outside the living room, listening in. Her eyes were wide and a huge smile was on her face as we heard the conversation between our parents and Daniyal Uncle.

A week after our shopping trip, Uncle had set up a day to come and see my parents, making sure that it was on Papa's day off, so as to not cause him inconvenience. Hamza was also inside with them, but I had chosen to stay out because I was suddenly overcome with shyness. I had practically forced Mani to stay out here with me.

"Fawad, I'm going to be direct about this." Daniyal Uncle spoke. "I am here to ask for Hania's hand in marriage for my son Hamza, with his reassurance that he will keep Hania happy."

"I'm sorry if I sound straightforward, Uncle." Hamza's voice made my heart skip a beat. "But, I have performed Istikhara, something my friend Faiz suggested to me, and the answer was yes." 

Allah! I hadn't told him about my parents' Istikhara, and Mama and Papa hadn't either (upon my request). In fact, immediately after my periods were over and I had taken ghusal (cleansing), I had performed it to...and my answer was yes as well.

Four people had received a positive reply in an Istikhara now. What other reassurance did I need for this marriage?

"Well, as satisfying the answer is to hear, Hamza, as you can understand, Jasmina and I are very protective about our daughters." Papa said. "If we agree to this marriage, we would do this because of our complete trust in Allah. But Hania's health, including mental health, and her wellbeing will remain our top priority, and if we feel that she is changing in a negative manner after her marriage, we will step in. It's unorthodox, I know, but a lot of people mistreat their wives with the confidence that the girl's parents or family won't step in to defend them. That will never be acceptable. I apologise if that causes you offence, Daniyal Sahab."

"Absolutely not!" Hamza's father said. "Rabia is like a daughter to me, so I can understand your concerns, and I respect your views, Fawad." 

"My wife has spoken to Hania," Papa said. "And we, as a family, are agreeing to this alliance, because we also got a positive reply to Istikhara. Allah has planned the best for our children, I have full faith in that." 

Iman grinned at me, and I blushed, dropping my gaze.

"But," Mama spoke up. "We would like a gap between the Nikah and the rukhsati, and that is Hania's request. After the Nikah, they can get to know each other better easily, and will become more family with each other in the time period."

"We have no problem with that." Uncle said.

"Hania's graduation is in October, so we will discuss the rukhsati plans after that." Papa added.

It was unusual for the bride's parents to be setting out all the conditions, but my parents had continuously proved that they will always have my back. This wedding would be on my condition, mainly because of the doubt that Hamza had planted in us. 

To explain the concept of Rukhsati, usually the Nikah is performed on the same day as when the bride leaves with the groom, but on some occasions, there's a gap between the Nikah and the bridal farewell, for various reasons: e.g. the girl completing her education, visa issues, etc.

"Shall we consider this baat pakki?" Uncle asked in a light tone.

*Baat pakki: marriage alliance fixed.

"Yes, we should." Papa said.

Iman silently jumped up and down, doing a little dance move, before hugging me*.

*Throwback to For Our Love.

"Congratulations, Appi!" She said, happily.

To our surprise, Mama came out and raised an eyebrow at us.

We both stared at her with our lips pursed, like we used to when we did something naughty when we were kids and Mama caught us. 

"Yep, I knew it." She said.

"How?" Iman looked confused.

"Because once upon a time, I was in this position, with your Phupho giving me company." She smiled, holding out her arms to hug me and Iman. "And now one of my girls is getting married, while the other is taking her first step towards being a doctor. Ma Sha Allah." 

I felt tears in my eyes as I realised that it won't be long before I had to leave my Mama and Papa behind and start my own life. In Sha Allah.

For me, Hania Fawad, this was a major step, and the scariest thing I'd ever had to do in my life so far.

****

Hamza

I felt happy, calm.

The Istikhara had relaxed me, and all the doubts in my head had been cleared away. 

That night, I stood in my room by the window, drinking coffee. My room was my photography haven, with photos of various places around the world, adorning the walls. One whole wardrobe was dedicated to my photography equipment. 

I looked around the room. Not long in the future, and Hania will be here as well, In Sha Allah. This would be her room as much as it was mine. I grinned cheesily at the idea. 

Mrs Hania Hamza. That sounded nice.

I took a sip of coffee. Before I'd performed the Istikhara Salaah, I had doubts. I was unsure whether I was doing the right thing or not. But the very next morning, I'd woken up certain that I'd wanted to marry Hania, and not just for Papa's sake. All my doubts had vanished, leaving not even a trace behind. It was as if I never was sceptical about the idea of our marriage.

I was now a hundred percent convinced that Hania Fawad was the girl for me, and Allah had confirmed that through the prayer.

I still was uncertain about love, but I was trying to accept the idea that maybe one day I would fallen deeply and crazily in love with Hania. After all, it was common knowledge that Allah placed love in the hearts of two people bound by Nikah. Who was I to deny what my religion had told us?

Ya Allah, give me the strength to be a good husband to sweet Hania.

****

A major theme of their story is to follow Istikhara, and starting the relationship with faith that it's the right decision made for them by Allah.

Will Hamza keep Hania happy or are more problems destined for her?

Thoughts and comments?

Thank you for reading and don't forget to vote.