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A/N: If you guys start comparing Hamza and Fawad, just remember, that's exactly what I want you to do!

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Hamza

I didn't come from a loving family. My parents had been in an arranged marriage, which worked out for a while, but then as I turned ten, things took a turn for the worst. My parents started fighting so much that my studies were getting affected and my teachers started complaining. That's when Mum filed for divorce, and claimed full custody saying that Papa was more concerned with his business than raising a child. That was a blatant lie. The moments I'd spent with Papa when I was a child were some of the best moments of my childhood.  

Mum was strict and uncaring, and then she got remarried. However, she couldn't have anymore children, so her new husband divorced her, and she currently lives with my elderly Nani in Glasgow. 

By the time I moved to London with Papa, I was a typical party boy. I spend most of the nights dancing in nightclubs, and smoking with friends. Natalia, my university best friend, had followed me to London, and we were very close. We never dated, or any such thing, but we had a pretty touch-feely relationship. We held hands and hugged, which my father strictly disapproved off, as he'd caught us a couple of times when I'd brought Natalia over to the house to cook her a meal, but she wasn't my girlfriend. I know Papa was constantly worried about my friendship with her, and repeatedly warned me against it. 

Natalia was gorgeous, with long flowing blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes and a smile that made my heart dance like a background dancer in a Bollywood film. I loved her like a friend, but our friendship was purely platonic, but Papa didn't understand that. He said that there was no such thing as friendship between a Muslim person man and a non-mehram woman, or vice versa. He needed to understand that no matter what, I was not going to go against him, or disappoint him. I may not come from a loving family, but he was the only stable and loving parent that I had.

Hania.

Her wide brown eyes always clearly displayed her innocence. She was simple, but in the most perfect way. Her cheeks turned pink at the slightest of things. She was beautiful, no doubt, and her behaviour was undeniably cute. She just wasn't the type of girl I'd pictured spending my life with. Sure, she was an ideal wife-material and Bahu-material for others, but she was not the one for me.

I was a confused mess, especially after the advice of Papa. He had never given me the wrong advice regarding anything, and both my heart and mind were on the same side this time, because they were telling me to listen to Papa.

Ya Allah, please help me make a decision.

****

I walked into my bedroom, and it was decorated with roses and candles, you know a typical wedding night room.

"Natalia?" I said, softly. I had no idea why I had expected her to be my bride.

My bride sat on the bed, a red dupatta draped over her, her face hidden from my sight. I sat down facing her, smiling.

"Welcome home." I reached out and lifted up the dupatta and froze.

Wide brown eyes stared up at me, nervously. The almost black, dark hair was pulled up in a bun, with a teeka hanging from her forehead, and long earrings dangling down the sides of her face.

*Teeka is the jewellery worn on the forehead, common for brides.

My smiled widened. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm your wife, silly." Hania whispered, her cheeks turning pink.

"Ma Sha Allah." I lifted her hand up to my mouth and kissed it. "I've never seen such an innocent beauty."

"And I'm all yours." Her gaze remained on her lap, her long eyelashes brushing her cheeks, shyly.

I leaned forward and slowly pressed my lips against hers.

****

I sat up in bed quickly. "What the actual f**k?" 

I have heard of Istikhara prayers to make decisions in life, but I hadn't even done it. And yet, this one simple dream was making me question myself and my immediate rejection of the idea of my marriage to Hania.

If Papa knew about this, he would say that this was a sign from Allah. Papa had placed the idea of marriage to Hania Fawad in my head, and now I can't stop thinking or dreaming about it. Why? I barely knew the girl apart from the fact that she was a shy, awkward girl whose parents and family seemed to be her whole world.

Why did you do this to me, Papa, why? Why do you hate me so much? I groaned, falling back onto the bed, as I stared up at the ceiling.

****

I rode around Lahore the next day, trying to figure out my muddled thoughts. Yes, I was happy with an arranged marriage, and yes, Hania seemed like a sweet person. If I was honest with myself, there was no genuine reason for me to reject her. And if I was further honest with myself, then I know that a lot of people would advise me to accept this arranged marriage. 

Friendship with a non-mehram girl will result in nothing, but being bound by Nikah to a nice, sweet Muslim girl would be completing half my faith. Think it over, Hamza. What has more benefits, and what is nothing but harmful for you?

But then my internal side came up with another suggestion: what if I married Hania to please Papa? The thought briefly crossed my mind before I shook my head. No, Hania was too sweet and innocent. If I ever got into marriage with her, I would have to be fully willing to do so. If I used her, not only would I be unfair to her, but I'm pretty sure her parents would kill me. They seemed very overprotective of her.

I was meeting Rabia, my cousin, at a café nearby. Rabia was twenty, and she I treated her like my own little sister. When Rabi lost her parents, there was a little argument because Phupho's family didn't want to take her in due to the financial burden, even though Phupho herself wanted her to stay (My Phupho was her Khalla). However, Papa put his foot down, and refused to let young Rabi witness any further fights, and had taken her under his care. He was now his only remaining mehram after all.

"Assalam Alaikum, Hamza Bhai." She smiled as I approached the table where she'd been sitting.

"Walaikum Assalam. You okay?" I sat down opposite her.

"Alhumdulillah." She had been scrolling through her phone, but put it away as I sat down. "How's Mamu? Is he coping okay in London alone?"

I laughed. "If it weren't for the maids there to cook for him, I'd be seriously worried."

She grinned. "Poor Mamu." She looked thoughtful. "You know he mentioned a girl, the daughter of a former doctor of his."

I rolled my eyes. "Not you too, Rabs." 

"Why not? She sounds like a nice girl." She looked curious. "What's her name, again?"

"Hania. And yes, she's a very nice girl. But she's..." I mentally searched for a word to describe her. "She's so awkward and shy. We are not compatible. She's too good for her own good, if you know what I mean." 

"No, actually I don't. What the hell does that mean, Bhai?" She raised her eyebrows. "Who in their bloody right minds rejects a girl who sounds perfect, to be fair. So what if she's shy and awkward? Mamu said that she is well-mannered, polite and she comes from a good family. She sounds like a good match."

"Look being nice is great and all, but I can't marry a girl who seems like she has no personality. She just does what she's told by her parents, for f**k's sake!"

"And? So she's a good girl? What's wrong with that?" She shook her head.

"I want a confident wife, somehow who fits with me, and..." I looked up and froze.

I should have thought twice before coming to a café in Defence. It was a popular café, especially amongst people our age. Including Hania, apparently.

Her eyes were filled with tears and her cheeks were pink from embarrassment.

"Hania!" I stood up, startled. 

She rushed out of there, and before I knew what I was doing, I followed her.

*****

Hania

I was visiting the café with a family driver. I'd told Mama that I wanted to go out for a bit, just to spend some time outside the family home, and as the café was very close to our family home, she let me. 

I wish I hadn't forced myself to go and say hi to Hamza when I'd spotted him. I wish I'd listened to my shy and awkward side and stayed away. Instead I heard what he really thought of me.

"We are not compatible."

"Has no personality." 

You know, it wasn't like he'd said anything too awful, but what hurt me a lot was the fact that I had been thinking about him like a stupid naïve teenager with a crush, while this is how he actually viewed me.

"Hania!"

I ignored his voice as I headed out towards the family car.

"Hania, please stop. Hear me out." He reached out, and to my utter shock, he grabbed my wrist, stopping me in my tracks.

I whirled around to face him, ignoring the sparks I felt because of his touch. "Get your hand off me!" I was surprised at the confidence and the rage in my voice.

"I'm sorry, Hania. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't! Why would I be hurt by a guy I barely know?" Yet, I couldn't stop my voice from breaking.

"Hania." He stepped closer to me, his hand still holding my wrist. 

"I knew it. Out of control daughter of an out of control woman."

I jumped, startled and Hamza dropped my hand. We turned to see Ismael walking our way with a woman I recognised from seeing around my Mamu's house, Nailah Khalla, a cousin of Mama.

"This isn't what it looks like." Hamza tried to explain.

"Oh really? Are you her husband?" Nailah Khalla raised an eyebrow at him. "With what right are you laying a finger on her?" 

I was trembling with fear. Images of my parents being humiliated over this made me want to die. They'd already been through so much because of Iman, and now I was going to put them  through this absolute destruction of their respect. 

Hamza looked at me, almost pleadingly.

"Go away. I don't want anything to do with you!" I snapped.

Taking a deep breath, he went back into the café.

Nailah Khalla tutted. "Is this what you do in the absence of your parents?" 

"This isn't what it looks like." I muttered.

"What else can I expect from Jasmina's daughter?" She smirked. "Do you know that she had an affair with her university best friend while she was engaged to your father?"

"That's enough!" I snapped. "I tolerated my own insult, but I will not tolerate you saying a word against Mama." I got into the backseat of the family car, and asked the driver to take me back home. Angry and humiliated tears filled my eyes. I had no idea where all the anger had come from, but all my feelings of being showed down was mixing up into a giant flame of rage that was slowly taking over me. I had thought that Hamza hadn't made fun of me, or criticised the way I was, and that is what I'd liked about him. But no, he was just like the others. 

And then Nailah Khalla showed up, saying awful things about my mother. I didn't care if it was true or not, it was not my concern. It was Mama's past, and if she was with Papa right now, it meant that they'd sorted out their issues. What happened before my birth, or even before my parents' marriage was none of my concern. How dare she tried to defame Mama in front of her daughter?

****

Ismael

"Phupho, you shouldn't have said all that about Jasmina Phupho." I had been forced to bring Papa's cousin out to this café, as she wanted some coffee cake. 

But the sight of Hania with that guy had shaken me to the core. I trusted Hania, I knew her well enough to know that she was innocent in all this, but if I wasn't mistaken, I had felt a certain chemistry between the two. I don't even think that Hania even realised it. 

"Jasmina was a disgrace to her parents, and now her daughter is going down the same path." Nailah Phupho shook her head. "Astaghfirullah!"

"You know, Nailah Phupho, it's ironic you say 'Astaghfirullah' while maligning the character of a pure girl." I was irritated at her, and I headed back towards my car. "I'm waiting in the car." 

I wasn't going to do anything. I had made up my mind. I was only twenty-one and I still had years of medical education to go through. If Hania found happiness elsewhere, I wasn't going to be selfish. I was going to step aside and let her life go where Allah had planned for it to go. I respected her, Jasmina Phupho and Fawad Uncle too much to cause unnecessary drama. 

****

Hania

When I got home, I immediately ran upstairs, without talking to or facing anyone. I was in tears and seriously upset right now. 

"Hania, is that you?" Mama's voice came from the foyer.

"Y-Yes, Mama. I have to go to the bathroom." I made up an excuse as I rushed to my room and slammed the door shut, kicking my shoes off.

I pulled back the duvet and got into bed, pulling the duvet back right over myself. I cried hard, putting a pillow over my head, and taking all precautions to muffle the sounds of my weeping.

Why can't you control your feelings? Why can't you stop yourself from having a crush on someone? My crush on him was the reason I was more hurt by his opinion of me, otherwise I wouldn't have cared. I was used to people making fun of me, or not understanding my social anxiety. I was used to people criticising me and comparing me to Iman, saying that my younger sister had more confidence than I did, and actually laughing in my face.

"Hania?" Mama's soft voice was followed by a light knock on the door. "I'm coming in, jaan." I heard the door open and the light tapping of her shoes against the marble floor. "Hani?" I felt her sit down beside me, pulling back the duvet and laughing lightly. "I remember how you tried to hide like that in the mornings, thinking that if you stay hidden, I won't be able to find you and send you to school. You must have been around five or six then." She pulled the pillow off my head. "What's wrong, babe?"

"Mama..." I moved to rest my head in her lap.

She gently caressed my head. "What's wrong, meri jaan?"

"Why are people so awful to me because I'm so awkward and shy?"

"Who dared hurt my Hani?" She began to gently massage my head, making me feel almost sleepy. 

I sat up, crossing my legs and facing her. "Mama, when I went to the café..." I told her everything, including my confrontation with Nailah Khalla. My eyes widened as I realised that Papa was in the doorway, frowning.

"Hania, my past is not something that I'm proud of." Mama said, softly.

"Mama, I don't care what your past is. That's your past, before I even existed. I have no right to know about it, or question you over it. It's none of my business. But she had no business saying all that to me."

"You're right." Papa spoke up, taking a seat beside Mama. "She had absolutely no right."

My mother looked at him. "I'm going to tell her."

"Jasmina..." 

"It's okay, Fawad. Since this has been thrown in her face like this, I am willing to tell her exactly what happened."

"Mama, you don't have to. I literally have no wrong thoughts in regards to that matter." I took her hand in both of mine. "All that matters to me is that you both are together. Your past is your and Papa's business, not mine or Iman's."

"I want to tell you, Hania." She said. "In fact, I want to tell Iman as well. I don't want anyone to accuse you or Iman of anything based on my past." She looked at Papa. "I trust that my daughters are old and mature enough to know." 

"Are you sure you want Iman to know that?" He looked uncertain. 

"She's made mistakes, Fawad, but I have faith that she'll never use my past against me. And if this comes up in front of her unexpectedly as well, I don't want her to be shocked. I want her to be prepared." Mama looked at him.

****

"I may have developed a crush on my university friend, Jeremy Newton, while I was in London studying, but that's all it was, a crush." Mama explained. "I just had no idea then that my feelings for your Papa ran much deeper. I was too naïve." 

"If I meet that Newton guy, I'll punch him in the face." Iman frowned.

"This is exactly why I keep warning you both about crushes." Mama added. "I know how much trouble it can land you in. It can cause you to take wrong decisions. Unfortunately, Allah saved me from my life being ruined, and I got another chance with your Papa. And, a huge credit to him here as well, because anyone else would have rejected me." She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. 

"Everything happens for a reason." I said. "You had to go on a longer and much difficult route to get to the right destination. But ultimately, I was meant to exist, as was Iman. You had to be with Papa, no matter what route you took."

"We don't judge you, Mama." Iman reassured her. "In fact, I think you're much cooler now. You didn't want to hurt Papa by marrying him while you liked someone else. That was the right thing to do." She paused. "But, yeah, I'm glad you didn't marry that pr**k. I like existing, thank you very much." 

"Language." Mama warned her, while pulling Iman into her arms, all anger seemingly melting away during this family moment. "Thank you, my loves. I knew you'd be understanding. I just didn't know how to tell you both that." She looked at me. "Hania, would you go to your room for a bit now, please? Now that we're here, I need to talk to your Papa and Iman about something." For this conversation, we had moved into the living room.

I nodded. "Okay. Is it okay if I go and make myself a cup of tea first?" 

"You don't need my permission, Hani." She smiled. I walked out of the room, feeling much better now.

For me, family was the most important. Nothing else mattered. No crushes, no heartbreaks.

I hadn't told Mama what I had heard Hamza say about me, and she had gotten distracted by Nailah Khalla's words, fortunately. I knew that if Mama had heard that he had uttered those words about me, she would have gone into her Overprotective Mama Bear mode, and she's sort of intimidating when she's like that.

****

Iman

I felt sorry for Papa, having to go through all this stress. 

"What the hell were you thinking?" He looked at me. "I don't understand why you were contacting a twenty-eight-years-old and giving him details about our family. Is this what your mother and I have taught you?" 

"He's in Lahore, Papa." I dropped the final bombshell. "I'm worried that he's going to turn up here, and I might spot him around Defence." 

He stood up, and began to pace the room, looking absolutely furious. He didn't speak for such a long time that even Mama looked worried.

"Fawad?" She got up and walked over to him.

He turned to look at me, his face expressionless. "I give up on you, Iman." 

I blinked, surprised.

"I have no more hope that you'll ever change." He said, simply. "Even twelve-years-old have more sense that you in regards to this matter. And by doing this, you've proved that your Mama and I should not have any good expectations from you." 

"Fawad." Mama grabbed his arm.

"I'm your father, which is why I can't leave you to handle this on your own." He continued. "I will always help you, along with you mother, even though you show us absolutely no regard. You don't care what we say, or what we expect from you. You just do whatever you want to do, regardless of the consequences."

"Papa, I'm sorry." I muttered. "Just please help me through this, and I won't repeat this again."

"As I said, I'm your father. I have to help you." He held out his hand. "Give me your phone." I handed it over without protesting, after unlocking it. "His name's Rayaan, right?" I nodded, and he found the number on the contact list and dialled it.

I waited with bated breath, glancing at Mama nervously. 

"Rayaan, right?" Papa spoke into the phone, his voice low but filled with fury. "Listen up. I'm Iman's father, and it's in your best interest to lose all contact with her, and stay the hell away from her. If I ever hear that you tried to contact my daughter again, I have connections in the police and I will have you instantly found and arrested. And it that's still not intimidating enough for you, you can try and contacting her and see how protective a father becomes when it comes to his daughter." With that, he hung up the phone. "This is your final warning, Iman. Sort yourself out, because we're not always going to be around to have your back."

"I'm sorry." I said, before leaving the room and rushing up the stairs. 

****

Hania

"Fawad Bhai," One of the guards came inside in a rush shortly after Iman had gone upstairs. "A boy called Hamza is outside. He says that he wants to speak to Hania Beti."

My eyes widened and I looked at Mama.

"He wants to speak to Hania?" Papa looked puzzled. "Send him in."

The guard nodded and headed outside. Papa and Mama looked seriously curious at Hamza's sudden appearance. 

A few seconds later, Hamza entered the living room, holding a box of chocolates.

Ya Allah, now what?

"Assalam Alaikum." He greeted us all, to which we all replied. He looked awkward as he began to speak. "Uncle, Aunty, I'm sorry for coming by uninvited, but I had to apologise to Hania. I really hurt her today."

"You hurt her?" Papa asked. Mama, who'd moved to stand beside him placed a hand on his arm, as if to keep him calm. 

"I'm sorry, Hania." Hamza looked directly at me. "You are a sweet, kind and compassionate person. In fact, you're one of the nicest people that I've ever met. Hurting your feelings is, without doubt, a sin, because you're such a good person." He held out the box of chocolates. "I brought this for you as an apology gift."

"No. I don't accept your apology." I surprised everyone in the room, including myself. "I did nothing to you to deserve you talking about me behind my back like that. Yes, I'm awkward and shy, and I listen to my parents, and I greatly depend on them, but clearly, you don't know what social anxiety is, and I think you should go learn something about it before commenting on my behaviour."

"Hania..." He seemed lost for words, and only seemed to remember my name.

"Forgiveness is a great thing." I added. "But not to the point that you let other people treat you like a doormat, and letting them walk all over you." 

"You're absolutely right." He admitted. "And that's exactly what I'm going to do tonight. I'm going to educate myself on the subject of social anxiety." Politely nodding at my parents, he headed out, and soon we heard the front door close behind him. 

I blinked, surprised at my own courage. My parents were staring at me incredulously, and they continued doing so for a few more seconds, before Papa grinned.

"I'm so proud of you, meri jaan." He wrapped his arms around me, kissing the top of my head. "I'm glad you took a stand for yourself."

Mama gave me a hug as well. "I wish I'd made a video, Hani. You were brilliant."

He came all the way to this house, where he knew that my parents were present, intending to apologise to me, while bringing me a box of chocolates. It melted my heart a little, and I was beginning to find remnants of my crush lingering around inside me.

"This was necessary." I whispered. "He needed to know the error of his ways. At least now, he won't make fun of an awkward person again."

Mama kissed my cheek, holding me close in her arms.

****

Hamza

I researched on social anxiety all night, as I'd promised Hania, and I began to understand how she must feel all the time. This anxiety affected her behaviour and her ability to talk with anyone out of her immediate family and relatives. 

I felt like a complete a****le for talking about her like that, and I was actually glad that Hania hadn't forgiven me that easily.

The light from my laptop was giving me a headache, so I went to bed after that.

Early the next afternoon, when I knew that Papa would be awake back home, I dialled his number. "Assalam Alaikum, Papa."

"Walaikum Assalam, beta." He answered. "How are you?"

"Alhumdulillah." I took a deep breath. "Papa, I've thought things through. I know what I said about Hania not being wife material, but culturally and religiously it makes a lot of sense because of the type of person she is. And, also, I respect your decision and I trust that you know what's best for me."

"What are you saying?" He sounded hopeful.

"I do have to get married." I paused. "And Hania has really surprised me. I don't know about her being good enough for me, Papa, but I'm definitely not good enough for her. She's too pure, too good, and I would be proud to have her as my wife. I think you should go ahead and talk to Fawad Uncle. I'm ready to marry Hania, if she's ready to accept me." 

****

What do you think about Hamza's decision to respect his father's wish and marry Hania?

How will Hania react to this? Would her parents accept?

Thoughts and comments?

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

HINT: Things may not be as simple as they seem ;)