The Volunteer's Vow
"Hira volunteers at her local mosque's food bank every week. When handsome fellow volunteer Zain keeps appearing at the same shifts, she suspects Allah might be playing matchmaker."
The Volunteer's Vow
"You're always here on Saturdays."
Hira looked up from the rice bags she was sorting. Zain—the new volunteer who'd been suspiciously consistent—was smiling at her.
"So are you."
"I had to make sure you'd be here." He didn't pretend otherwise. "This seemed better than asking you out in the prayer hall."
They worked together every weekend—sorting donations, serving meals, finding moments between duties to talk.
"Why volunteer?" she asked.
"My mother always said service is the best form of worship." He paused. "Also, there's a woman here I'm trying to impress."
"Is it working?"
"You tell me."
He asked her to dinner after a particularly long shift.
"Somewhere halal and proper," Zain said. "With your family's blessing if you want. I'll do this right."
"And if I want it less proper?"
His eyes darkened. "Then we negotiate."
They negotiated at her flat—after family dinner, after proper introductions, after everything was appropriately settled.
"I've wanted this for months," Zain admitted, kissing her neck.
"So have I." She pulled him closer. "Finally."
He made love to her with the same dedication he brought to charity work—thorough, giving, focused on her fulfillment.
"Meri jaan," he breathed, moving inside her. "You're my answered prayer."
"That's borderline blasphemous."
"That's honest." He grinned. "Allah sends us what we deserve."
"We have to tell the mosque committee," Hira said afterward.
"They already know. My mother mentioned it to six aunties." He laughed at her expression. "Sorry. Desi mothers."
"They're planning the wedding already, aren't they?"
"Probably." He pulled her close. "Shall we let them?"
The wedding was at the mosque—reception in the community hall they'd served in together.
Best volunteer work either of them ever did.