I am sat anxiously at the corner of Christine's Bakery, with legs jittering as I doom scroll nonsensical things online.

"This is completely low pressure", I tell myself as I wear the most down-to-earth clothing I own. This is just a guy inviting a female homie out to doing something good.

He pulls up with a satin baby blue top and I could only think "oh god, he is so good-looking", and I am so underdressed. 

A conversation ensued and my eyelids are heavy from a double whammy - sleep deprivation and prevention from my heart beating at full speed upon seeing his face, with his hair parked at the right places. With him, I now realise I do have a type - tall, dark, and handsome. In particular, one that gels his hair, just enough to get a few strands of hair off its placement to create a perfect gentleman look.  

As if this wasn't enough to make me fall harder for him, when the clock strikes 8, he says, "let's go", and he hurried to take on the bill. I offered to split and he says it's alright. Oh no, this sounds like a date.

We arrived at the mosque and I am still in awe with the fact that a guy I genuinely like is taking me to see the Almighty, and unfortunately,

Every step that night, was one step to saying, this is it, THIS is the person I want to marry.

Him and I agreed to meet at the entrance of the mosque, I want a memento for keepsake, so the boldest thing I did was to ask him to pose for the camera. My nerves beat me to it and I got an unsatisfactory photo, but it was enough to capture the essence of that night.

We ended the night with bingsu, what was supposedly a slight inconsiderate (trust me when I say, I am inexperienced, and I will do better) move, is most likely a step to a promising future meet up. He asks me my progress on my studies, in which I have abandoned and forgotten until he reminds me, oh God, kill me now, why does he care about me like that, it's crazy, before asking me about my future plans. Both our plans seem ambitious, and if he asks me if I'm in for the ride, I'll gladly be his number one fan, as much as he does for me. 

He leaves me with, "later let's catchup again", as if it's second nature to do so. I am Cinderella, so I said okay, and hurried my way back home before the clock strikes 11.

I went back and looked at the photo of him. The night glimmered, along with the mosque, but it is him that glimmers the most. 

And oh God, do I pray to Allah we will work out.