...
I stepped inside the mosque, the hefty doors closing quietly behind me. The cool breeze welcomed me in, along with the presence of two men awaiting my arrival.
"Assalamualaikum."
One rough voice and another raspy voice greeted me.
"Wa alaikum assalam."
I uttered the greeting as I sat down on the pastel-white carpet over the marble tiles.
A sense of disappointment settled over me since, unlike last time, the silly, sweet narration and banter of the kids were absent.
Their class had ended long ago, and it was only us three men sitting face-to-face, enjoying some dates.
"You are late again. Why is it that we are the ones who end up waiting every single time?"
Yusuf scowled at me, and I awkwardly avoided his gaze, unable to explain myself.
He was wearing a sky-blue hoodie paired with his dark-brown trousers, his hair tousled. The look represented his off-work mannerisms.
"He must have been lost in his thoughts like every... single... time."
Zayne remarked and paused in between the words to exaggerate the extent of my late appearance.
"Spare me some slack. Unlike you, I'm the vice president. I've more work than you think."
"Oh, please~ All you do is sign some papers."
Zayne countered, almost revealing the built-up frustration jammed in his chest.
I chuckled, sighed, and then went still, letting the silence fall over us.
The air turned frosty as soon as I held back my words, both the men gulping at my unintentional glare.
"That look is familiar."
Yusuf muttered under his breath while folding his arms over his chest and shaking his head.
"Looking at you, I'm getting scared of marriage."
Zayne added, rubbing his shoulders and shivering dramatically.
I munched on my lips, trying to bring up the topic and gain advice from the only people I knew.
Their faces told me that they were expecting my worries and had no intention of meddling with them. Both men eyed me, hinting that they didn't want to stick their noses into my troubles.
Alas, it was their fault for making me a friend.
I shrugged and grinned happily before opening my mouth, watching both their faces darken as I did.
"So, quick update. I told her how I feel last night."
Their eyes opened wide, and they blinked twice, trying to process what they had just heard.
Zayne flung himself towards me and fake-cried in my arms.
"Aaa~ I'm so proud of you! My brother is all grown up."
I pushed him aside, and he sniffled into a tissue and whiffed as if he were truly moved.
I glanced over at Yusuf. He was still as a stone. The impact was much stronger than I had anticipated.
"Let me guess. It didn't go well, did it?"
My head sank, and I exhaled tiredly once more before shaking my head no.
Neither of them spoke for a moment.
Zayne's dramatic expression slowly faded, and he sat back down beside Yusuf, suddenly looking much more serious.
"She rejected you?"
"No."
I answered almost immediately.
"Then what happened?"
Yusuf spoke, his eyes fixed on me.
"She asked for time."
Zayne's eyebrows rose.
"Time?"
I nodded.
"She didn't say no. But she didn't say yes either."
The words felt heavier when spoken aloud.
Yusuf leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms again.
"Then what's the problem?"
"I made her uncomfortable."
Both of them exchanged a glance.
"How?"
I hesitated.
"After I confessed, she started avoiding me."
Zayne's playful expression disappeared completely.
"Are you sure she's avoiding you because of the confession?"
"I don't know."
My fingers slowly tightened around the edge of my sleeve.
"But this morning, she couldn't even look at me."
Yusuf remained silent for a few seconds before speaking.
"Haider, you told her how you felt. You didn't demand an answer."
"I know."
"Then give her the time she asked for."
His words were simple, yet somehow difficult to accept.
I lowered my gaze.
"I know she deserves time."
"Then why do you look like you're about to attend your own funeral?"
Zayne's sudden remark earned him a glare.
He immediately raised both hands.
"Just trying to lighten the mood."
A reluctant breath escaped my nose.
I had spent the entire morning torturing myself with possibilities when she had given me the simplest answer possible.
She needed time.
And if I truly loved her, I had to give it to her.
Yet I still wonder how much I could endure of it.
Giving is taught to be always better than taking in our religion. And now, I must follow through and give.
Not to mention, I couldn't even take what was originally not mine.
My eyes adored her, but it was my soul that fell in love with her. What kind of man would I be if I couldn't even do the slightest thing to give her space?
My pain and misery can't compare to the essence that is in love with her. My heart is so full of her that I can hardly call it