Prologue

He treaded on a path of destruction, lost among a sea of souls, and then he was drowning in her perfection.

Mariam never expected much from life. She lived through the tragedy of losing her beloved, loved in silent fear of love, lived only to please Allah. Through her perfect mask, she created a viral YouTube channel, one that followed Muslim fashion and streaming games, two giant platforms. She didn't expect it to be popular, nor did she except a secret admirer.

A man of few words and the brother of her best friend leads her to a path of desire and decorum as the two play a game of cat and mouse. Little did Mariam know that two imperfect people were more than capable of being perfect together.

Amaar

There were a lot of mysteries that I had yet to solve in life, but the most peculiar one was why my esteemed brother-in-law begged me to take him to eat spicy ramen when he knew that he could not handle the burning roar in his mouth nor could he handle the fire breathing smoke that came with each slurp.

His green eyes watered, breath coming in short pants. "Why... did you not tell me... that I could die like... this?" he struggled through the pain.

I pursued my lips. "Well, someone wanted to take an unnecessary risk."

Subhan was my little sister's husband. We weren't too far apart in age since Amna, my sister, was only three years younger than I, but her life was much more ahead than mine. At a young age, she married the man she loved and they quickly started their lives together. It would be any day now for my nephew to be born, hence why Subhan insisted on challenging himself with food before his baby came.

I found it amusing.

Subhan glared at me, bright, evergreen eyes narrowing at my remark. "I can't help that I was fed peppers from the day I was born. Cut the white guy some slack, man," he said, gulping a glass of water. He squeezed his eyes for a moment, blinking through the haze of spices. "Why do I feel like I made it worse?"

"You're supposed to drink milk if something is too spicy."

"How was I supposed to know?"

"Common sense."

Subhan frowned, though there was a light still hidden in his eyes, a sign of jest. "Why are you so mean to me, Amaar? Be nice to your nephew's father."

I raised a brow. "He isn't even born yet."

"Yet is the key word here," he grinned.

Leaning against my seat, I gave him a long look, wondering how such a goofball and egotistical man managed to gain my little sister's approval. There were often times when I thought marriage would be too constricting for Amina, too distracting from her life goals.

However, Subhan proved time and time again how he would do anything for his wife, how he would sacrifice his own life for hers, how he would follow blindly behind her if it meant that she would stay by his side forever. Not to mention that his company would allow an escape from my perfunctory life.

"Are you really changing jobs?" I asked.

Subhan nodded, stirring his bowl of ramen. "Yeah. Amina wants to be closer to your parents while the baby is born. I don't want to keep her away from them because of my job. Also, with the arrival of a baby, we'll be way more busy than usual. Having your parents help would be a giant blessing," he admitted, inhaling deeply as he stared at his fork. "Let's try this again."

I chuckled to myself. "You're going to regret this, man. If you couldn't handle the spice the first time, you can't handle it the second time."

"Shut up. I'm doing it anyway."

"May Allah have mercy."

Subhan converted to Islam a couple years ago, which was before he married Amina. I was glad that he found the light to Islam on his own rather than allowing love to consume his rationality. He was the complete opposite of me much like my sister. Maybe that was why they fit so perfectly.

A part of me wished to be where they were in their lives, wished to have the bubbling excitement of a new family, of a wife and kids. A darkness clouded over me, sinister whispers reminding how unfit I was for such a life, how useless I would be to another person.

I was never too close to my parents, and that shame continued to follow me in my adult life. I hurt them in ways I never should have. I was that rebel, annoying, smart mouthed son that no one wanted, but my parents continued to stay by my side. Helping Amina achieve her dreams was my only chance at redemption.

It was the least I could do.

But after all was said and all was done, I still hurt my family. Knowing that I did cause shame and resentment to course through my body, for guilt to overpower my senses, for darkness to engulf me in its cold embrace.

Allah, forgive me. I lost my path in the past, but please don't let me lose it again.

I hated myself for how I disrespected and pained my family. I hated myself for the scars I left them. I hated myself for the harsh tones I used. Now, I couldn't even face them without tears in my eyes.

Subhan's spluttering for water broke my thoughts. "Amaar..." he strained to say as his face swelled with redness.

"I told you so," I said, pouring him another glass. "Subhan, this is only going to make it worse."

"Shh, I... need it."

I rolled my eyes. "So stubborn," I muttered under my breath. Why am I not surprised?

Subhan chugged the entire glass, sticking out his tongue like a dog as if it would help. "You're one to talk," he teased, a slow smile on his lips. "Your entire family is stubborn like hell."

"Your point?"

He shook his head, waving a hand at the thought. "Forget about it. Are you going to work next week?" he asked, worry and concern lacing his voice. I knew he was talking about if I'd move out again.

I shrugged. "I don't know yet."

A brief silence ensued between us, a touchy subject weighing heavier than I expected like a delicate balance of responsibilities rested on my shoulders. As the tension stretched, my mind felt numb, uncertainty the thin line that dictated my decision.

I'd gotten multiple job openings for cyber security, so finding a job wouldn't be difficult for me, especially with how the technology field grew in my hometown with each passing day. I could be ahead of the competition with my experience at my current job as a cyber security technician for a friend's father at his profound business.

I wasn't sure if I was ready to continue living with my parents. I stayed with them whenever I visited, but I barely conversed with them unless they initiated or I had too. Every time I looked into my father's eyes, I knew he was upset and hurt by my actions, that he feared for the man I might become, that he wished I would speak to him.

I couldn't. Something was stopping me.

Every time I saw my mother's frail form continue working for Amina and I, continue her daycare, continue her struggles for our well-being, I wanted to erase it all. I wanted to save her from the tedious life she lived, but again the words always melted on my tongue.

How could I stay with them after the pain I caused?

I mixed with the wrong crowd, and I verbally attacked my parents during difficult times of their lives because of my own frustrations. I had no right, yet I did so anyway.

The bustling of the restaurant filled with empty cavities of our time, strange voices mingling with others, laughter infiltrating the dimmed lights of a Chinese restaurant. Subhan and I sat across from each other, but neither of us made eye contact. Although the room rustled with joy and excitement around us, our voices were mute, our lips sewed shut.

The levity vanished like smoke.

"I think you should," whispered Subhan so lowly that I didn't hear him. He lifted his eyes, a mass of emerald sparkling with his determination. "You've made some mistakes, but it's time to be the captain of your ship. Take control of your life again, and stay with us."

"Subhan-"

"Your parents need you, Amaar," he cut off. Amina needs you. Do you really think the stress of a baby and trying to get into medical school isn't driving her crazy?"

I winced at the mention of her. He knew that my little sister held a part of my heart. She always did ever since the first day my parents brought her home from the hospital. Knowing about her heartache, about the turn her life now took hammered the coldness from my heart.

Yet the frigid glaciers were too strong, the currents too violent to let me steer through my conflicting emotions. Amina was married to a great Muslim man, one who could provide for her every need, one who cherished her deeply. It hurt, but I knew she was better off with Subhan than to spend time worrying about me.

"She has you," I said, smiling sadly at him. "She doesn't need her big brother like she used to."

Subhan chuckled to himself, resting his arms on the table. "If that was true, then Allah wouldn't have made you two siblings."

I tilted my head at him, confused.

"You're wrong, Amaar. There will never be a time when she doesn't need her older brother," said Subhan softly, meeting my gaze fiercely. "You have a bond with your family that I will never have. You're tied to them, and even if I'm their son-in-law or her husband, there are some comforts, some quirks that only you know. You are still a part of their lives, so please make them a part of yours."

"I'll think about it."

Subhan sighed, choosing to say nothing.

Honestly, what could he say? Here he was, a guy that everyone adored for his charismatic approach to life and the smiles he infected everyone with, and here I was in my quiet state, my reserved nature, my inability to voice out my heart. In that regard, he was a brighter star in Amina's galaxy than I ever would be.

Sure, she needed me. Siblings always needed each other, but those needs would be replaced by someone else. Maybe I pushed people away too often, or maybe I preferred my solitude, but that emptiness still resided deep in my heart, that burning pain still rang like bells.

My heart felt heavy. Stay with my family, I thought. They want me to stay, but for what?

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