I had been travelling for over a month, a brutal road trip from Iraq to Iran. Not necessarily because I was ranging through a nationwide war-zone like they show in the movies but rather rocky terrain, no washroom for hundreds of kms and not a person in sight. At this point self maintaince was thrown right out the window, my overgrown eyebrows, a bare face and an intense tan as my olive skin tone now became a soft honey in the fall weather of November. When I decided that the reason I was going on this trip was to find myself spiritually, I didn’t want to indulge in superficial things, like makeup or dressing up. Through the entirety of the trip I wore the hijab and most of my time was spent in shrines where a chador a cloth that covers the entirety of your bodily aura was mandatorily worn out of respect.

So there I stood in a jewelry shop near my hotel that I would pass by everyday to go to the harema sacred inviolable place. Browsing through the fine selection of Iranian feroza, stumbling through my spiritual journey while also indulging in some retail therapy. In my defence these gem stones weren’t just for pretty display on my hands but they also had healing properties for the body and mind.

Running from one glass display to another I couldn’t set my heart on a specific article; I wanted all of them. Midst the questionable time I was spending trying to narrow my selection, the sound of the door creaking open caught my attention and soon when I turned my head to look over, I caught glance of the kindest eyes I had ever seen. For a moment I couldn’t help myself but admire the man, his full beard was finely kept creating a deep contrast of the dark color against his fair skin while his piercing green eyes were an enticing distraction from the outline of his muscles even through his black dress-shirt. I shrugged at his lingering glance catching mine and turned back to the salesman as I asked him to ring my bill for me.

Soon enough when I looked up those same eyes met mine again but this time he was standing behind the counter with the most stunning ring in his hand. Narrow diamonds clustered around a garnet which was also my birthstone. He turned the calculator towards me, and I glanced down to read 28. “This is my age, I also own four houses and this is my personal business.” He paused before he spoke again, “you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met and I want to marry you.”

I was too stunned to speak, his words eloquently met my ears like music and I began to blush. Adjusting the black chador over my head thinking how could someone even consider my acquaintance in this state? I chuckled and thought it was just an exaggerated compliment but his gaze said otherwise.

He spoke again, ”I always knew I would wed an *ajami - someone whose mother tongue isn’t Arabic or a non Arab in general. “Your beauty has enticed me and there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” Again he tugged at my heart strings but I was already spoken for at the time so I told him exactly that and he was heartbroken. I avoided looking up at him through the rest of the transaction and tried my best to hide how red my cheeks exactly were. I paid the due amount for the rest of the jewerly that I bought even thought he insisted on all of it completely discounted.

Before I could walk away from one of the most interesting encounters in my life, he held the ring out to me and insisted I keep it as a gift. I reached out and my fingers lingered against the palm of his large hand as I picked up the ring. Through the rest of the days I would often catch sight of him and his eyes spoke words to me I don’t think our tongues could ever exchange, even today I wonder how my life would have unfolded if I had yes to his endowing request.