It was during this one particular Ramadhan when she suddenly felt that life as a singleton needed to be over soon. Like very soon.
She has loved and lived every minutes of being unattached (by choice) but just at that moment, she broke down into tears.
(Oh well, is not it partly peer pressure? The best friend cum house mate is happily attached to a man, and you have nothing? Poor you!)
She needed a man beside her.
She needed a husband.
(Finally. You have felt and known that long before, but are too consumed with yourself, is not it? )
It beat her ego to have to say that. It was not that she has been in denial all this while. People would have thought that she’s a feminist, but no, she has never denied the need for a man. She’s her daddy’s girl after all.
(Who doesn’t enjoy a bit of attention? I mean, opposite sex’s attention for specific. One who listens to your every rants, someone to which your heart skips a bit or two)
She was not married yet simply because there’s no one who caught her attention.
If there was one she’s really into, she often said, she would really pursue him.
(There were actually, don’t deny it, but you were not too sure, or too keen, or perhaps still waiting for the so-called perfect ones. Admit it!)
But no, there’s no one.
Now she needed one.
And that Ramadhan, she began praying to God, for a husband. For someone to help her being a better person – not that she has not tried on her own, but it didn’t work.
(You are kind of helpless on your own. Your ego is sky high, and no one really cares to say it out loud to you when you do things wrong.)
She has come to the moment when she can finally said, God, I have a good career, I have fulfilled my parents’ expectations, and now please, I want to be married.
And surely God listens.
He listens and responds in a way che could never imagine.
Only after a few nights, a text message came in, rather very early in the morning.
‘Salam. May I ask you a personal question?’
It was from an unknown number.
(But you had an inkling that this could be it)
Thinking that it is from a girlfriend whose number she accidentally deleted, or a distance friend asking for advice, she said yes. And asked for the name of the sender.
‘This is XXX. May I know whether you are still single and available?’
(And you couldn’t sleep well after that, could you?)
To which she said yes. Just a Yes. It was from an acquintance she came to know no less than three years ago. A friend of friend.
‘I’m thinking of making you my wife, but I don’t know you much. Can we meet some times soon for a ‘getting-to-know’ session?’
(You almost had a heart attack, and then you recalled your prayers to God. Is not God great? Could this be the answer to your prayer?)
To which she also said yes. Yes for the session.
A month later they met, They ask questions. They answered questions. They got to know each other dreams and expectations.
Those that can be put in words, really.
(You were fighting, of course. Could there be anyone better than him? Would you miss out on better things because of this? All sorts of silly questions, when you just knew back in your heart that this is the one.)
And two weeks after that, she said yes.
Yes for a marriage.
(Finally! After much tears and fights – don’t you just love picking up a fight every now and then?)
To a man who each day she has started to fall in love with.
(You only notice so after that one dream, didn’t you? The dream in which you were forced to marry someone else, which brought you into tears because you have really liked this guy..remember?)
And is still falling in love with.
**Written in response to dailypost challenge this week: we’re challenging you to explore how different narrative modes affect your writing.