I wasn’t even supposed to be at that masjid. Tampa’s Sligh Masjid was over an hour away, but my friends dragged me to go to the later Eid prayer. So I threw on my light brown caramel hijab, an all-black outfit, and my long modest graduation-style cape that made me feel like I had just earned a master’s degree in flying like a bat. I mean — you could see me from a mile away. After prayer, we were taking Eid photos when something slipped from my purse. As I reached to grab it, all I heard was a loud: "MASHALLAH!" For a second, I thought—was that a bomb call?! I scanned the crowd. No one panicked. Just me. I shrugged it off and went to check out vendors while we planned our next move. Ten minutes later, a young brother approached me saying, “My friend is interested in speaking to you.” He gave this whole pitch — tall brother, beard, convert, lives in the masjid. I hadn’t even seen the guy yet, but I politely declined. “I’m okay, thank you.” My friends, of course, kept pressing. “Who is it?” The brother pointed: “That one — over there.” I gave a quick side glance. My friends started whispering. Then came the ask: “Can he have your number?” And me, the queen of improv: “I don’t have my phone… I don’t know my number.” (Lie. My friends stared at me like: Really?) I started frantically looking for a business card. Couldn’t find one. Almost gave the wrong social @ but this brother had his phone out searching me in real time. So, I gave in. LOL. That brother turned out to be Aymen John — respectful, sincere, and intentional from the start. He didn’t slide into my DMs or play games. He asked for my wali… and when I told him my father had passed, he asked for my brother’s blessing first — before speaking to me. From the first conversation, he set his intentions. He showed up. Got a haircut (yes, that matters). Shared his heart, his story, his goals. From there, we courted each other with clarity, respect, and joy — the way God designed it. Aymen came to my family’s home and humbly asked for their blessing.