The Echoes of the First Date
Do you remember our first tryst?
I gazed at my reflection for hours—a vanity I had never known.
My only obsession was to be the most beautiful in your eyes...
Tell me, was I?
Speak to me, O fairest face. Is there hope for me in your heart? Shall I continue?
Have my feminine incantations succeeded in swaying you?
Talk to me, chirp like a bird as you wish, without question.
Do not wait for a word from me; your beauty has paralyzed every fiber of my being.
Do not even ask my name, for by God, I no longer remember even my first.
The Web of Influence
What began as calls with flimsy excuses soon became calls for no reason at all. Every day, Abdullah fell deeper under Rowan's spell. And how could he not? She showered him with gifts and an intensity of attention he had never experienced. She began preparing his breakfast with her own hands, dazzling him with delicacies; she mastered the art of cooking just as she mastered the art of seduction. Poor Abdullah tripped over her smiles and fell headlong into the well of passion.
Rowan stood before him armed with every weapon in a woman's arsenal—both the legitimate and the "internationally forbidden" ones of feminine guile and cunning. Abdullah, meanwhile, stood defenseless, stripped of any pretension or games. He had no past experiences to shield him, and his principles forbade him from seeking counsel or speaking of her to others. He was a lone soldier on a battlefield against a woman whose beauty forced one to glorify God in awe.
The Master of the Field
Abdullah became her shadow. He called her in the morning to wake her, after lunch to "sweeten" his day with her voice, after evening prayers to hear of her day, and at bedtime to receive his "spiritual nourishment." He was a child in her hands, giving everything without realizing the cost. His emotions were virgin territory, never before touched by human hands.
In their conversations, he played a game of "counter-attacks," struggling under a relentless pressure that left him with barely five percent of the "possession." Rowan controlled the field, the fans, and the commentators alike. He fought to keep up, but alas, his defenses were no match for her strikes.
Past Shadows and Innocent Memories
One day, Abdullah asked: "Why haven't you married yet?"
"Destiny hasn't knocked yet," she replied.
When he asked if he was her first love, she answered with calculated brilliance: "I have never loved before you, but I was once the object of another's obsession."
She told him of a lawyer she worked for at eighteen—a married man with children who pursued her relentlessly. Abdullah, consumed by jealousy, asked: "And how do you feel about him now?"
"Nothing," she said. "He is a ghost from seven years ago, dead and forgotten."
Then, she turned the tables: "And you? Confess your first love to me instantly!"
Abdullah laughed, charmed by her authoritative tone. He told her of his cousin, Iman, whom he "loved" when he was thirteen. His only way of flirting was asking her every ten minutes, "Iman, how are you?"
Rowan erupted in laughter. "How can a thirteen-year-old love a woman in her twenties? That wasn't love, Abdullah; it was a mere childhood crush." Yet, in that moment, she realized the sheer purity of the heart she held. Here was a man who hadn't spent his youth chasing girls or loitering at school gates. His entire romantic history was a single, innocent month in Syria.
The Proposal
That night, Abdullah lay awake, haunted by a strange mix of jealousy and fear. The thought of another man having desired her—and the terror of losing her to someone else—pierced him. He decided there was only one path forward in the world he knew: Marriage.
The next evening, with a heart full of shyness that made his words stumble, he broached the subject. He asked about her "knight in shining armor."
She began to describe him: "Most importantly, he must fear God... he must love me... and oh, it would be perfect if his name were 'Aboud' (Abdullah)."
Abdullah's world spun. He didn't just feel joy; he felt as if the dreams he had been chasing had turned around to embrace him. She had saved him the agony of the question by giving him the answer before he could even ask.
The Declaration
"Will you accept me?
Will you accept a home within my heart, to flow through my veins with every crimson drop?
Will you be my stubborn love in this world?
Will you accept me as the knight of your life, to spirit you away to a far-off realm?
Yes, I am asking for your hand in marriage, for I know with absolute certainty that this is what I desire.
Will you allow me to imprison you within my cage for a lifetime, my stray gazelle?
Say 'Yes,' and declare today the first True Valentine's Day of my history.
Please, accept... before I resort to 'escalation,' for I would accept your hand even if it were given under threat."