Edit 5 Jun: Thanks to Plaisir94 for helping with this chapter. I have since made a few edits to all mistakes are my own.

Edit 14 Apr: I updated the chapter. Worth a reread. Still looking for a beta. New chapter coming soon as possible.

Dear reader,

This is chapter is completely unbetaed.

I will probably rewrite this chapter. If I do I will let you know. Changes will be minor and I will likely be adding to it and not taking anything away. I'm posting this before making those changes because if I don't, I may never post this.

I hope all readers keep an open mind when reading this story. A few character names will be different to the Twilight books, but I have kept them close as possible. The story will be told from Bella's point of view only. Isra is Bella. Without any further ado, here is the story. If you like it drop me a review.

Chapter 1

The red dot alerting me of a new message in my inbox glared at me. Daring me to lower my thumb onto the screen already. The thing is, I wasn't sure if I wanted to know what the message said. It really didn't help that there was an unusual lull in the number of customers in the book shop today. That just gave me too much time to overthink.

At least an hour had gone by since the last customer had left, that was the reason I'd taken my phone out in the first place. Having been kept busy with work during the morning rush, I'd forgotten all about the events of last night. So when I'd taken out my phone to relax, maybe try to win a juice bar for my virtual town, this notification was the last thing I'd been expecting. Being ambushed by my cousins as I had tried to do the very same thing last night was not what I expected either.

My cousins had completely blindsided me at my Nani's Sunday dinner when they'd shown the account they'd created for me on matrimonial app, Halal Hearts.

After dinner, I had snuck off to the yard to get away from the biryani smell. I was too full to be able to even bear any food smells thanks to my aunt Carmina piling rice on my plate after I had declined her offer of one more serving.

Though the clouds in the night sky threatened a possibility of rain, the crisp autumn air and fresh breeze had felt good on my skin. The calm was a welcome change from the overcrowded house of kids running around playing whatever game made then shout so much. It didn't help that my cousins insisted on adding background music on the speakers. The house was loud enough. It was always this loud every Sunday when my Nani's children and their families gathered.

I had taken out my phone to play on my virtual town when my cousin Maarya had found me.

"Isra, I've been looking for you everywhere," she said, standing at the kitchen door. "Its freezing out here. Can you come inside. Me and Ilyana have something to show you."

Maarya was my age and Ilyana was her sister, two years older than us. Maarya, Ilyana, my older brother Emran and I had always been close since we were babies, we were all close in age. Though Maarya and Ilyana had been great fun as kids, as adult while we got along, I preferred to keep my distance.

I was dragged upstairs by Maarya to Nani's bedroom where Ilyana sat on the bed alongside Aunt Carmina. They both turned to me and smiled, making space between themselves for me.

I bit my lip, wanting to high tail it out of there. When my aunt and cousins got together like this, they were probably scheming about something.

"Come and sit your cousins have something to show you," Aunt Carmina said. The smile on her lips was far too mischievous for this be anything good.

"Do I even want to know?" I asked, my feet rooted to the spot unwilling to move any closer.

"Just come," Ilyana said patting the bed insistently.

With a sigh of defeat I did as they asked.

"Give me your phone. I have something to show you," Ilyana said.

"Can't you just show me on your phone?" I asked.

"Isra, just do it," Aunt Carmina insisted.

I glanced at Maarya who was standing in front of me, with a sympathetic smile.

"Its really nothing bad," she said.

My phone was plucked out of my hand by Aunt Carmina before I could argue.

"What's your pin?" she asked tapping random numbers on the keyboard.

There really was no use arguing with a person that had as much audacity as Aunt Carmina.

She was the kind of person who would return to a new acquaintance's house after she had already left their dinner party and ask for some leftovers to bring for her husband at home. Or ask her physiotherapist if he was single because she had unmarried nieces.

The best thing to do was to hide or avoid her as much as possible. Sadly I was in no position to do either so I rattled off my pin.

With a triumphant look in her eyes she handed my phone to Ilyana.

"I know you said you didn't want to get married, but you are thirty now. You're not getting any younger. Men don't want old spinsters," Aunt Carmina rose from the bed. "Do what Ilyana tells you. She knows how to do these things, Isra."

Neither Maarya nor Ilyana were married nor had they ever been, but okay.

With that final word Aunt Carmina left the bedroom. I stared after her opened mouth unsure if I should be offended, curious or both.

Maarya sat in the spot Aunt Carmina had vacated and reached for my hand.

"It really is nothing bad. Ilyana and I made an account for you on Halal Hearts."

"Th- The marriage app?" I spluttered out.

"Yes," Ilyana said. "I just downloaded the app on your phone. Oh and why do you have a farming app?"

"Its my town."

"Well, now you'll have something useful to do with your phone." Ilyana handed me back my phone. "We made an account for you and we found you a good match."

I scrolled through the profile they had created for me.

Name: Isra Safawan

Age: 30

Location: Seattle, WA

Religion: Muslim

About Me:

Assalamu Alaikum!My name is Isra. Reading is my passion; there's nothing quite like getting lost in the pages of a good book. When I'm not buried in a novel, you can find me exploring new cuisines in the kitchen, challenging friends to board games, or indulging in a captivating movie night.

As a devout Muslim, my faith is central to my life, guiding me in every decision I make. Alhamdulillah, I've been blessed with the opportunity to embark on this journey of finding a partner who shares my values and aspirations.

What I'm Looking For:

I want a husband who values faith and family as much as I do. Age-wise, I'm looking for someone between 28-35, ready to embrace the joys and challenges of marriage.

Non-negotiables:

- Does not drink, smoke, or engage in recreational drugs.

- Respectful of Islamic values and practices.

- Shares a love for reading, board games, and cozy movie nights.

If you're a compassionate, kind-hearted individual with a zest for life and a commitment to building a loving, halal relationship, I'd love to get to know you better. Let's embark on this beautiful journey of love, faith, and companionship together, insha'Allah.

While I had to admit, the profile was not so bad, they had made me sound like a mousy 1950s housewife.

I kept my mouth shut wanting nothing more than to delete the account later as I tapped on photos to see which ones they had used.

It was a photo of me from Eid. It had been taken in the living room downstairs as I was listening to Nani tell us stories about Eid when she was a child back in Mauritius.

Ilyana had taken the photo without my knowledge and later sent it to me over WhatsApp.

I was wearing a white abaya, my hair pushed to one shoulder. Thankfully it was still early in the day so my hair didn't look horrible and my make up was still fresh. There was the hint of a smile on my lips as I looked on listening to Nani's stories.

"We'll need to upload another photo," Maarya said. "But we can do that later."

The air in the room suddenly felt too hot. I wanted to go back to the yard or maybe back in time to tell myself to hide before Maarya found me in the yard.

I knew there was no way I could delete the account without hearing about it a million times over. And they would probably expect me to use it and find matches and show them the matches and read my messages.

I needed air.

"Great. Can I go now?"

"Actually there is one more thing," Maarya said, she leaned over to my phone and tapped the screen opening someone's profile. "We found you a match. His name is Jamal."

"And we already sent him a message for you. So don't go avoiding him," Ilyana added.

I pretended to scroll through his profile but my jaw was clenched as I forced myself to breathe.

"Isra?"

I looked up to the owner of the new voice. My sister-in-law, Rozina was standing just outside the room.

"Your mom is looking for you. I think your parents are leaving," Rozina said.

My heart thudded in relief. Finally an excuse to get away.

"Already?" Ilyana asked.

Rozina shrugged and held out a hand for me.

Gladly I got up from the bed and went to take her hand.

You saved me, I mouthed to her.

"Don't forget to check your messages," Maarya called as I hightailed it out of there.

I hadn't checked the messages until I had gotten home, knowing this delay was the only protest I could do against this whole thing.

Of course a fresh wave of anxiety and panic hit me as I read their message.

Aslm, my name is Isra. I see we've been matched. I'd like to get to know you better but I'd prefer it if we met in person first.

How could they outright ask him out when I knew nothing about him?

It had taken me a while to calm down so I could go to sleep. I'd spent an hour talking myself down.

And now- today- I had gotten a reply from Jamal.

I pulled my bottom lip with my teeth wondering which reply I would hate more; an acceptance or a rejection?

The thought of both made my gut twist with unease.

Holding my breath, I lowered my thumb onto my phone screen.

Wslm Isra. How are you?

I'm okay with that. Let me know the time and place.

Clicking the side button on my phone, I shoved it back into my pocket. I needed to focus on work, anyway. Jamal and my virtual town would both have to wait.

The faint sound of some KPOP song drifting from the book shop floor told me even Jessica, who was manning the bookshop counter, was probably on her phone.

Before I had unlocked my phone a notification lit up my screen to inform me of the message from Jamal.

As an attempt at distracting myself from the boredom, I found myself rearranging the set of multi-colored mugs on the shelf for the fifth time in just as many minutes.

But of course my mind wandered back to everything I was trying to distract myself from. The image of myself in a wedding dress next to some faceless stranger suffocated my mind.

A loud thump and clinking of porcelain pulled me back to reality. I looked down, the mug that had slipped from my hand was lying on its side, thankfully, still fully intact on the floor.

"Everything okay?" Jessica called out to me.

I had to clear the lump from my throat before responding.

"Just me being clumsy," I answered with a sigh as I bent to pick up the mug, setting it back on the shelf.

I took a step back, rolling my head back on my shoulders as I let out a low, frustrated growl. I hated my cousins for putting me in this situation.

I looked around for something that would distract me from the thoughts that I'd rather not be having right now.

Maybe a good book would help to ease my mind. Making my way over to the shop floor, I found Jessica with her phone in her hand, her long, pink hair shielded her face from my view.

When I had first read her resume, she had all the qualifications we were looking for, but when she showed up, she was nothing like I had expected.

In fact, Jessica had long since converted me into a KPOP fan with her constant chatter about her "biases" and persistent music recommendations. She reminded me more of a teenager than a woman doing a Master of Fine Arts in English Literature at U-Dub. I loved that about her. Jessica always brought a fresh perspective.

I looked around the empty space, not surprised at all to see there was still no customers in sight. I took my opportunity to browse the book selection, warmth filling my chest as I inhaled the comforting scent of old and new books. It never failed to bring me back to my childhood, back to happier times when I would visit my Dada every day after school and he'd read to me as we sat together on his chair.

When I inherited my Dada's shop, I kept things pretty much the same – the atmosphere just pulled you in, so not too many modifications were necessary. As I browsed, I ran my finger along the rich, mahogany bookshelves, one of the only changes I made.

I thought back to the days I would sit on my Dada's lap, begging him to read me a princess story.

"Dada, tell me a princess story!" I'd insist every single time.

Of course, it was never a regular story. He would read my favorite Arabian nights story – The Talking Bird, the Singing Tree, and the Golden Water. So enthralled by the quests of magic and happily ever after, I would ask him again and again to read me the same story and he'd oblige at my insistence every time.

"Again?" He'd ask.

"Yes!" I'd reply impatiently. "Wait, wait! I need a snack."

There'd been no cafe back then that he could pop into to get me a snack. I'd built one after taking over the book shop. Yet Dada would always wink and pull out a pack of gummies or a fruit and give it to me before starting his story.

I'd be enthralled by the quests and magic of it all.

My Dada passed six years ago, and I missed him every day. Being here, in his shop, made me feel close to him. He really was the calm in the middle of my crazy family.

I took in the stained, light beige color of the pages and the worn edges. I held the book up to my face, breathing in the musty scent, already feeling the anxiety dissipate from my body, my chest loosening and my shoulders dropping to a more comfortable position. I let out a gentle sigh as relief flooded my body.

Maybe I was overthinking this whole marriage thing because of my interfering cousins. I mean, even if I wanted to marry someone, Isra Mariam Safawan could never make a real connection through some marriage app.

Ya Allah, if I am to get married please give me someone I didn't meet through the internet. I want a good man who I meet in real life. Ameen.

The bell on the door chimed as a customer walked into the shop. I peeked around the bookshelf to check if they were going into the café.

My breath caught in my throat as a man I had never seen before stopped at the door. I checked him out as he checked out the shop. He was tall with reddish hair that seemed to have a mind of its own, standing up in all different directions. He had a pair of sunglasses on his face, but from what I could see of his face, he was quite handsome.

He moved with an air of easy confidence towards the bookshelves, his gaze lingering on the spines of the books as he ran his long finger across them.

Even Jessica was staring. Her hot Korean biases no longer able to hold her attention with the presence of this gorgeous man.

I may have loitered longer than necessary, pretending to be sorting through some books to get a better look at him. I chastised myself for creeping on him while doing it. I didn't just work here; I was the owner of this place.

Brushing my fingers through my long hair, I squared my shoulders and stepped out of my hiding spot, walking to the man.

"Can I help you with something?" I asked, giving the handsome man my best, most professional smile.

The handsome man turned to face me and with a sheepish smile on his lips, a deep set of dimples forming on his cheeks.

I wanted to see his whole face, but those sunglasses were an annoying deterrent. I wished he'd take them off. I mean, the bookshop was well lit, but it wasn't bright enough for him to need them on

"Yeah, actually its my sister's birthday and she enjoys reading." He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous laugh falling from his lips. "I'm clueless when it comes to genres."

"No worries. I can help." I smiled reassuringly. "Tell me a little about her if you don't mind."

"Well, she's twenty-one, hyperactive, and a shopaholic," he chuckled. "She loves shopping a little bit too much."

His voice was like honey, those dulcet tones caressing my eardrums. He had the kind of voice I could listen to forever. He could be talking about cockroaches, and I'd be enthralled by every word.

I shook the thoughts from my mind, getting back to the task at hand.

"If you look over there," I pointed to the shelves in the back corner. "You can pick out any book by Sophie Kinsella."

"Kinsella?" he echoed, looking to where I pointed.

"She'll get a laugh from any Sophie Kinsella book. I know I do."

I paused, looking at him, at those infuriating sunglasses when the stupid words tumbled from my mouth before I could stop them.

"Is it too bright in here?"

"Hangover." he answered.

Nope. Definitely not Muslim.

"Oh… want to grab a coffee?"

My cheeks flushed with a burning heat as I lost all ability to monitor my mouth, words just flying out of their own accord.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

He would was going to think I was hitting on him.

Fix it, Isra.

"I mean in the movies people with..." I trailed off, mentally scolding myself. I shook my head, forcing a smile on my lips. "I mean coffee could help."

What was I even saying?

Shut up, Isra.

"We have a café back there," I added pointing my thumb over my shoulder to show him.

His full lips quirked into a crooked smirk.

"Maybe next time," he replied.

I clamped my stupid mouth shut and just smiled politely as he walked away without another word.

Scampering back to the café, I pulled out my phone.

If that's how I was reacting to haram men, maybe celibate life wasn't for me.

I opened WhatsApp and searched through my contacts for someone I could talk to. Someone who wouldn't go gossiping and actually had marriage experience. There was only one choice in the end.

Hi Rozina, are you free at around 1.15? -I

I hit send before I could chicken out. Then I watched as her status changed to online and three dots appeared as she typed out her reply.

Aslm Isra, I'm free. All okay?-R

Wslm. Yes, I just need a favor.-I

I'm free now.-R

I was going to ask to come meet me if you could.-I

Oh. Sure... -R

Great, I'm at work, you can come here and we'll go to lunch... But at 1.15 that's my lunch break.-I

K, see you later-R

...

"Someone asked me out," I blurted out.

Rozina's fork froze halfway to her mouth. Her fork hovered inches from her plate, the perfectly seasoned lamb kebab forgotten.

I'd kept our conversation to idle chitchat until this point. Stalling for as long as I could. Seeing her back at my book shop had made me lose my nerve… until now I guess.

"And you said?" she prompted, her voice laced with curiosity as she lowered her fork back onto her plate, giving me her full attention.

"I mean it wasn't exactly him asking. Technically it was me, but Maarya and Ilyana did it. The guy accepted. Now I don't know what to do. I'm considering not going," I told her, still feeling unsure about where I stood.

"Is that why you looked like a gazelle being hunted last night?"

I scowled at the memory of last night's events.

"What happened to wanting a single, celibate life?" Rozina asked.

"My brother has a big mouth," I mumbled.

A hint of a smile played on Rozina's lips.

"No, your aunt came downstairs and told everyone that you no longer wanted to die a spinster."

I recounted the events somewhat reluctantly before shovelling my kebab wrap into my mouth to shut myself up as I waited for her reply.

"But you're considering it," Rozina observed, her head tilting slightly as she studied me.

I nodded at Rozina as I chewed, regretting taking such a large bite as I kept trying to chew faster and so I could swallow so I could answer her.

"So your cousins chose this person?"

I swallowed down the large lump of food in my mouth. It made a painful path down my throat and I hit my chest with my fist, coughing slightly as I tried not to choke.

When I finally gained some composure, I gulped down my water, raising my eyes to my sister-in-law who was watching me with an amused expression.

"Yes," I told her, still coughing gently.

"And you want to meet him?"

"I suppose I should."

My stomach squeezed into a tight knot as I pictured myself on a date. The image of a date filled with stilted conversation and nervous laughter, sent a wave of apprehension through me.

"But?" Rozina asked, ever the intuitive one.

"I don't know anything about him and can you really trust a person online?"

"Since I met your brother through work I can't say for sure, but you'll never really know unless you meet him."

"What's so great about marriage" I mumbled, setting my chin on my palm. "I mean... If I don't know what I'm missing then I can't miss it, right?"

"Emran is my best friend, Isra," Rozina said softly. "And yes, most of the time, I love being married to him. But it's not always sunshine and roses. We both know that."

"Do you think I should meet Jamal?"

"If that's what you really want, me and Emran can chaperone for you. But It has to be what you want."

"I think it might be."

"You think? What's really brought this on?" she asked, her eyebrows pulling down with concern.

The image of the handsome man from the bookshop flashed behind my eyes causing my cheeks to flush.

"This customer came to the shop today," I told her hesitantly. "I was this close to getting haram thoughts."

"I wouldn't advise going on a date with a man based on feelings for another man," she cautioned me.

Taking in a deep breath, I focused my gaze on hers.

"Maybe I need to… if only for the experience of going on a date."

"Whatever you decide, I'm here for you." A slow smile spread across her lips then. "So, tell me about those haram thoughts you almost had."

I fell back in my seat, covering my eyes and groaned in embarrassment.

A/N

I know since first publishing chapter 1 I have only posted edits of this chapter. I plan to write and finish this story. I am having trouble finding a beta or at the very least someone to sound board ideas of all.

Bear with me and stay tuned for more.