Accepted With Flaws

-Cocoa and Connections-

Whoever does righteousness, whether male or female, while he is a believer - We will surely cause him to live a good life, and We will surely give them their reward [in the Hereafter] according to the best of what they used to do.
(Surah An-Nahl 16:97)

Omaiza's PoV

There came a soft knock on my door, and I welcomed him inside.

"Zawj, would you like to join me for prayer?" Luth  inquired, inviting me to perform Qasr salat, the shortened and combined prayers.

"Could you give me about 5 minutes to freshen up?" I asked, squinting slightly against the light.
"Of course, take your time. I'll be waiting," he replied before quietly closing the door.

Inside the washroom, I selected a nightdress from the cabinet and made sure to put on the prayer clothes that Asma aunty had thoughtfully packed for me. The beautiful white jilbab adorned with delicate blue flower prints felt comforting against my skin. Once dressed, I headed to join Luth , who was already in the prayer room with two mats set out.

"Are you ready, Zawj?" Luth  asked as he assumed the position of Imam. I nodded and stood behind him, joining in the congregational prayer. The verses of his recitation were like a soothing melody, and I found myself fighting back tears as his words resonated deeply within me.

We completed the missed prayers and then sat together, engaging in Duaas and Dikr—reminders and supplications. Unexpectedly, Luth  moved to sit next to me, breaking the distance between us. "Hey," he greeted softly, placing my hand over his. His touch felt reassuring, like a lifeline amid the sea of uncertainties.

"Don't worry, Omaiza. Everything is new for both of us. I understand your apprehension, and I'm here to protect you, purely for the sake of Allah," he reassured me. I couldn't meet his gaze, my focus fixated on his hands that seemed to embody strength, with veins that hinted at his dedication to fitness.

"I comprehend how overwhelming it is to share a space with someone you barely know. It's not like a temporary hotel stay; we'll be seeing each other around 24/7," he continued, his words reaching a place within me that craved understanding.

A chuckle escaped my lips at his mention of being a terrible cook. Despite my initial reservations, his presence was gradually helping to ease my worries.

A sensation of moisture tickled my palms, making them slightly damp. I was tempted to withdraw my hand, but his soothing voice broke the moment of discomfort. "Relax, Zawj. It's not your hands that are wet, it's mine," he admitted, a sheepish grin accompanying his words as he used a tissue to wipe our hands.

"I want to give this a chance, Luth . Not just for you, but for myself," I finally spoke before quickly leaving the room, my heart racing.

I retreated to the kitchen, and he followed closely behind...

After removing my jilbab, I allowed my damp hair to cascade down my back, still moist from the shower.

"Uhm... do you want me to help you dry your hair?" Luth 's question caught me off guard, leaving me uncertain about how to respond.

"It's okay, I don't want to trouble you," I replied, my uncertainty evident.

"Don't worry, Zawj. I'm just eager for the rewards that come with every little act of care between a husband and wife. Let me help you," he insisted, his smile reassuring as he hurried to fetch a towel.

Unsure of how to position myself, I settled onto a seat beside the counter. Luth  approached with the towel, his hands soon working their way through my hair. His touch was confident, as if he had done this countless times before.

"Zawj, I know what you're thinking," he surprised me by saying, his fingers continuing their gentle motions.

"Huh?" I uttered, genuinely puzzled.

"Fatimah is a bit lazy and hardly dries her hair or uses hair dryers," he explained, his actions not faltering as he spoke.

"Oh," I responded with a faint smile, understanding his point. "And she believes hair dryers aren't great for hair," I added, in agreement with his observation.

With a triumphant tone, he declared, "Done and dusted," signaling the end of the impromptu hair-drying session.

"Jazakallahu khair," I expressed my gratitude, reflecting on how my father or Yasir bhai often helped me with this task, or how I reluctantly used hair dryers despite my aversion to them.

"Luth , there was something you wanted to talk to me about?" I attempted to initiate a conversation, eager to connect.

"In sha Allah, next time. Aren't you tired, Zawj?" he responded with a yawn, a reminder that it was already past 11 pm.

Realizing the late hour, I nodded in agreement. "You're right. In sha Allah, anytime," I replied, a smile tugging at my lips as I yawned in response to seeing him yawn.

He chuckled softly and excused himself to his room. Meanwhile, my craving for hot chocolate let me stay back in the  kitchen.

I rummaged through the cabinets, a glimmer of hope in my eyes, and to my delight, I found a packet of hot chocolate cocoa. Preparing the warm, comforting drink, I then embarked on a quest for the perfect mug. My search led me to the top shelf, where I found a stack of mugs, just out of my reach. As I stretched on my tiptoes, trying to grasp one, I suddenly felt a presence behind me.

His hot breath brushed against the nape of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. Instinctively, I pulled my hair forward, concealing the exposed skin. My heart raced, and I froze in my tracks. Slowly, I turned around to find Luth  standing there, an amused smile playing on his lips.

"Enjoying hot chocolate without me?" he teased, reaching for a cup.

We stood in close proximity, the air charged with an inexplicable tension. I couldn't help but notice a small scar on his collarbone, a detail that added a layer of vulnerability to the strong presence he exuded. Holding two cups, his gaze locked onto mine, leaving me momentarily breathless.

I bit my lip, struggling to contain the flush that crept onto my cheeks. He was so close that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body, and it sent my heart into a wild dance.

Before I could react, he took a step back, allowing me some space, but not for long. Leaning in, he rested his hand on the counter, his eyes fixed on mine. The intimacy of the moment sent a rush of emotions through me, and my heart thudded in my chest.

Our eyes locked, and I could sense the unspoken words hanging in the air between us. It was a moment suspended in time, where two souls, brought together by fate, tentatively explored the uncharted territories of their newfound bond.

My gaze flickered to his lips, and I felt my own heartbeats synchronize with his. I closed my eyes, unable to contain the overwhelming sensations that surged within me. The anticipation of his next move hung in the air, causing my breath to catch.

His voice, soft and barely a whisper, brushed against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. "Can I get a cup too?" His words were simple, but their impact reverberated through every fiber of my being.

I nodded in response, my voice failing me in the face of such proximity. Slowly, I retrieved another cup, my fingers brushing against his momentarily as I handed it to him. As his fingers closed around the cup, I felt an electric jolt shoot through me, a tangible connection that defied the boundaries of mere touch.

The moment lingered, and as we stepped back from the counter, the distance between us held a newfound awareness, a subtle shift in the dynamics of our relationship. We shared a quiet smile, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken connection that had begun to weave its way into our hearts.

I took a deep breath, my cheeks still tinged with warmth, and joined him in savoring our cups of hot chocolate. In that simple act, amidst the soft glow of the kitchen and the gentle embrace of the night, we began to bridge the gap between being strangers and becoming something more—a journey that promised both challenges and the sweet blossoming of affection.

A\N
I'm not blushing you are 😂😂
*Covering my mouth and Screaming 🤭😵‍💫😵‍💫✨😭*