“Astaghfirullah..” grumbled Amal, “Veda for the last time, there’s someone else I’m interested in..”

(How can this woman be so insistent? This goes beyond willful ignorance or rose tinted glasses. Are the glasses for blind mice or what?)

“You don’t even know if she likes you back, Mallie! Plus, your parents love me!” she protested, standing firm in her determination to win him over, “I can cook, I’m good with kids, I’m pretty-!”

Amal groans in frustration, turning away from her to take a breath to keep him from saying something uncouth.

“Veda. You’re a sweet girl, and any guy would be lucky to have you-“

“Then if guys would be so lucky, why won’t you have me?” she interjects, face flushed with frustration, “I don’t want any guy, Amal. I’ve loved—desired you for months now!”

“It’s not you. It’s her. She-“ he pauses, tears nearly springing to his eyes as he tries to put his affections equivalent to the world’s weight into coherent speech, “she’s the one I want to marry. To spend my life with and grow with. I want to experience all my remaining firsts with her, to love God through her and with her, to teach her new things and be taught by her” he sighs, and it just barely masks the sound of Veda’s hear tearing in two.

The two of them stare at each other with matching misty eyes, one mourning the unreachable love of a stolen heart, and the other holding the weight of a love so bright it blocks all others out.

“She’s it for me Veda. God willing, I will marry her.”

There’s no waver in his tone. No glint of uncertainty in his eye.

God willing, I will marry her.

God willing, we will be one.