When the Game’s not Over

Bismihi Ta’ala 

Part 44

Mohsina

Buzz. Buzz!

Maahira: No!

Are you serious?

Me: you heard me. He’s here. Right now.

Maahira: Did u even tell Hamzah???

Me:  .

Maahira: boy, you’re in trouble.

Me: Not my fault. Didn’t have a chance to talk again. Tonight.

Maahira: Talk. tonight? Watch me while I die laughing.

Me: *rolling eyes*

Maahira was being super immature.

And as I thought about what to reply amidst my anxiety, it was precisely at that moment when Jameela started pounding on the door, in complete fishwife style.

It was the first time that my usually dazed and dreamy sister was actually sounding more panicked and out of control than me.

“Mos, are you in there?!” She called, sounding like she was losing her marbles. “Mos, you won’t believe it! Your boss… ex boss… is here ! He’s waiting outside. It’s a bit early for the function but from what he told me, I doubt he’s here for that…”

“Just keep him outside,” I said hastily, pulling on my drabbiest cloak and a black scarf. Last thing I needed was Nani spotting the ‘business mens’ and going outside with a rolling pin. “I’m coming out.”

”Dont worry,” she said quickly. “He doesn’t want to come in. He’s at the shop.”

I sighed, relieved, as I checked in the mirror and picked up my phone again. I cannot look good. I cannot make an effort for him. I cannot.

Buzz again. 

Maahira: listen. Tell him 2 respect ur wishes and leave. He can’t even be there at d function. Plz listen 2 me this time. U can’t risk it.

Gosh. She wanted me to chase him out. I might as well send Nani.

Me: What if he pulls out all the lines?

Maahira: don’t be fickle. You cannot fall for it.

Me: Faadil is smoother than chocolate ice cream. You know me and chocolate.

Maahira: then go on a damn diet, girl. It’s time to divorce chocolate! Chocolate is bad for your health!

Me: *sad face*

Maahira: are u crazy? What are you even thinking about. This is Hamzah. He wants to make this work.

Me: :>

Maahira:  That’s my girl. Allah will put Barakah in the right thing when you do it the right way. Faadil is never going to be the right way.

She was right. Faadil wanted a long engagement and huge, flashy wedding with all his high flying associates. Hamzah’s requirements were so much simpler.

Simple wedding. Simple home. Simple life.

It was a simple equation.

Simple everything = More Barakah. No questions.

Me: I know. I need to be strong.

Maahira: U are. C u later now. Still recovering  from Samoosa run #2. Burying all hopes of happily ever after in my pillow. Scarred 4 life. xx

I smiled, despite my sombreness at the current predicament I found myself in. I couldn’t wait to hear Part Two of Maahiras Samoosa Run Escapades, because they were always filled with the most dramatic and hilarious scenarios.

And after convincing myself that chocolate is really bad, I was all psyched up to handle Faadil’s smoothness, and knock it right out my system.

Besides, after the week that I’d had, I was hoping that no obstacles would be chucked in to throw me off course. But such was my luck… everything that had happened seemed like it was meant to throw me off track and the tests that were happening entailed me grappling to stay on the right path, no matter what it took.

And I know that you are wondering where it all started so let me dive straight into it and spare you the grief, because all I knew was that I was way in over my head.

But that’s the thing with Tawakkul, isn’t it? Even when you are over you head, somehow, things still come through for you, when you have faith that Allah will see it through. The thing with Tawakkul is not only to pray and believe that not only will you be able to believe that nothing can harm you with Allah by your side, but to fully understand that you have the strength to fight anything because your strength comes only from Allah Azza Wa Jal.

And at that point, right after Ramadhan, when spirits were still flying high and my heart was endowed with faith of higher degrees, I had some kind of hope in my heart that what I wanted would somehow be granted.

In fact, even at the beginning, I remember already feeling exhausted, as I had complained to Jameela. If only I knew what the rest of the week entailed, I would have been far less dramatic.

”I can’t breathe,” I had remembered saying to her as she walked into the room, with me scrounging around for a decent abaya to wear, as Muhammed Husayn told me that Hamzah and Papa were waiting downstairs to speak to me.

“I had a feeling that outfit was a bit of a clingy one, especially around the upper area…”

I glared at her as she grinned at me quite obnoxiously, quite peeved that she was making light of a potentially serious situation.

“Listen,” she said, pulling off the pretty baby pink abaya she was wearing, with a cream trimming. “Wear this, but stop acting like you are having an anxiety attack. He only wants to speak about Zaid. Your outfits not going to make a difference.”

I glared at her.

“Or maybe it will,” she said mischievously and I narrowed my eyes, but I was, honestly, quite relieved and very intent on being modest.

I mean, modesty was our trait. What defined us as Muslims. Besides, what else could come out of strutting myself, except Nani having anxiety attacks too and we really didn’t need more kuku people in the house at the moment…

After being quite certain that looking decent and unexposed would have a far greater impact than being revealing, I calmed my nerves and made my way down the stairs, surprisingly keeping myself together. My frame of mind had altered significantly, and strangely enough, those things that impressed me before, seemed almost inappropriate. Where a basic slack suit would have been fine before, going on front of non-mahrams with anything slightly fitted made me cringe. I can’t believe how I actually wore topas above my bum before.

And making my way down to the lounge very self-consciously, with my father in the passage and the rest of my family seated just outside the house for Eid supper, I didn’t even process that the house was unusually quiet inside. By some miracle, Nani hadn’t gotten wind of Hamzah here yet, being so busy with the evening meal, and the silence felt a little strange. I actually half-wished that Nani had been let in on it but then then again, if everything didn’t go as she expected, the dramatics would have been inconsolable, so I instantly held the thought back.

And as I halted outside the lounge door, I could hear Muhammed Husayn talking to Hamzah, and as I entered, I was quite shocked that my otherwise unconscious brother was actually offering Hamzah something to eat. The fact that he had some manners was a great surprise…

“Thanks bru,” I could hear Hamzah’s voice say politely. “It’s been a busy Eid. I cannot eat a single thing more. Maybe just some water.”

And if I wasn’t bordering on palpitations, I would have probably greeted as I entered, but as I entered, my heart was literally in my throat as I realised that not only was my family not present at all, but Hamzah’s entire family was missing too.

In fact, it kind of caught me off-guard, because it  meant that while Muhammed Husayn went off to fetch the water, all I was faced with in a painfully appealing blue-grey kurta, his legs folded underneath him, Sunnah style, as he sat with a gurgling Zaid, was Hamzah himself.

And with Zaid already on the carpet, and in his element, I had arrived just in time to see the royal roll-over from tummy to back, and it always made me laugh when my little guy had that look of amazement on his face, as soon as he accomplished his goal.

I smiled as I saw it again, watching Hamzah excitedly pick him up and throw him in the air, while Zaid broke into a fit of giggles, just before they both caught site of me.

I had just entered the room, clearing my throat noisily, not able to conceal the major trauma that it had brought on, because according to me, that stuff was just damn dangerous…

”Sorry,” Hamzah said sheepishly, glancing at me briefly I stood there, probably looking as formidable as ever, before he quickly turned his gaze away.

“Assalamualaikum.”

”Wa alaykum Salaam,” I mumbled, relaxing a bit because I knew I shouldn’t be so possessive, so I added . “It’s okay. He loved it.”

And I wished I could just chill but being there, right now, was making me all sorts of unsettled, because honestly, I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to make it through this meeting.

Muhammed Husayn had re-entered, watching us almost anxiously, as if we were some kind of ping-pong match. I wasn’t quite sure what he expected. To tell the truth, I wasn’t quite sure what I expected either…

”I’m sorry if I disturbed your Eid supper,” Hamzah said, his back to me as I made my way to the couch behind him, and my father hovered outside. Sitting within this view was awkward, and I wasn’t quite sure why I felt that way.

I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t even with my family and that some of my cousins annoyed me anyway, but I didn’t.

There was so much on my mind. I had heard, through the grapevine, that he had decided to go to Al-Aqsa as a last minute I’thikaaf plan, and it was something that I wanted to desperately ask him about. I wanted to ask him what had inspired him in the spur of the moment. I wanted to know how he felt now, after such an overwhelming trip.

I wanted to ask how his Tarawēeh had gone. How he felt first Ramadhaan after losing his bestest friend. I wanted to know if his heart had been healed with the word of Allah. I wanted to ask him if Ramadhaan had gone as it planned, and if Allah had made apparent His love for him through the recital of Qur’ān that had become his beautiful refuge. I wanted to ask him about his journey from then until now… about how he had undergone the significant change that I’d glimpsed a few months back, before everything went so terribly wrong.

I wanted to ask him too, if he felt the navigation of Qur’ānic guidance that had brought him back to his route, when circumstances had swayed him off-track, and love and loss had broken him inside. I wanted to ask him if he had felt the weight of Allah’s word that had intervened between his heart and his whims and if his purpose in life had changed as much as mine did….

But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t say al the words I needed to. I couldn’t even say one.

And at first I didn’t understand it. it’s not like I hadn’t spoken with men before. I wasn’t that green. As an external auditor, my entire career had been meetings and clashes with the opposite sex, and it was barely appropriate or ideal. I did it because I didn’t have any motivation not to. I didn’t have the kind of conscience that halted me.

Now, though, as I stood there, with only Hamzah in view, even though I was properly dressed, I could honestly say that I never felt so awkward in my life. Something major had altered within me and I literally felt like hiding behind a curtain.

I knew, on this journey I was taking, there was a little room for deviation. As much as I wanted to ask him… I knew that there was a way to speak, to be modest and aware and keep myself from appearing anything less than dignified.

”My father said you wanted to speak to me,” was what I said quietly, careful not to be speak too openly.

And as he nodded, without looking at me, and the whole situation was oddly surreal.

And as if a reminder was vital, in the back of my mind was the story of Musaa (AS), which stood out for me as having some of the most important lessons. Attraction to the opposite gender is not taboo; it’s like hunger in Ramadan, and it’s completely natural. But, as a lesson, in this story, Allah shows us how to control them:

Allah Ta’ala says: Then there came to him one of them, (daughter of Shu’aib (AS)) walking shyly, as it was narrated from the Commander of the Faithful, ʿUmar ibn Al-Khaṭṭâb:

“She was covering herself with the folds of her garment.” Ibn Abî Ḥâtim recorded that ʿAmr ibn Maymûn said: “ʿUmar said: ‘She came walking shyly, putting her garment over her face. She was not one of those audacious women who come and go as they please.’”

The âyah goes on: She said: “Verily, my father calls you that he may reward you for having watered (our flocks) for us.”

And those words… well, it was a beautiful example of good manners and modesty: she did not invite him directly lest he have some suspicious thoughts about her. Rather she said: My father is inviting you so that he may reward you for watering our sheep.

How simple and beautiful were the ways of our pious Ambiyaa, who showed us a most virtuous way of life…

I breathed in as I awaited his response.

”Yes,” he said blandly. “I spoke to your father. He said to speak with you. Its been a long two weeks, and I can’t describe how much I missed this guy. With going back to work I thought it’s best to work out some kind of proper arrangement so we can both have the best of him.”

I took a deep breath, knowing what I had to tell him first, before we figured out a better arrangement.

“We can…. but, I resigned,” I said flatly, looking at a spot on the carpet near him, and swallowing hard. “Two weeks ago. From Hammonds.”

The silence in the room was almost deafening.

He was the one person I was waiting to break the news to, since it had happened, because I knew that this would be my one shot of redemption. It would be my one shot to prove that I was taking this seriously. It was my one chance to prove that maybe… just maybe… I was more worthy than he had thought… but the news had a less than desired effect..

He glanced at me briefly, before looking down again. It didn’t seem to be news to him. I couldn’t seem to meet his eye either.

“I see,” he said quietly, gently lifting Zaid up onto his lap, and shifting onto the couch, so he could face me, without meeting my gaze. “Did you get a new offer somewhere in else?”

He was waiting for my answer and his tone was neutral as he asked, but I knew that there was a note of inquisition there.

“I’m thinking about doing something different,” I ventured carefully, purposely wanting to knock him for a six. “I wanted to study Qur’an.”

I could tell from the way his gaze suddenly faltered, that this was something he didn’t quite expect.

Good, I thought to myself. I liked to catch people off guard. I was, after all, anything but predictable.

And I expected more of a reaction, but all he did was tickle Zaid’s tummy, almost as if he was avoiding a response.

Zaid, however, was making up for it completely.  And as we both sat in silence, listening to Zaid giggling gurgling away, both Hamzah and I were on completely different wavelengths.

“That a massive change,” he said softly after a minute… so softly that I barely heard him. “I didn’t know how much had happened while I was gone.”

I kept silent, simply because I could not formulate the words to say what I needed to. There was still so much to let him know, about Hammonds, about the job, about everything that had happened in between that had upset our entire future…

But how could I even begin? 

How could I explain to him that those vile men had taken me and broken my spirit to such unworthiness? How could I explain to him the humiliation of having to beg for my fathers safety, with money I didn’t even have? How could I tell him the feeling of having to literally sell my happiness into the safety that Faadil had promised me?

But it was over now, right? It didn’t matter. We just had to work on Zaid and giving him the best we could.

I couldn’t look at him. The moment I tried, everything came flooding back, and I didn’t want to remember that, as the basis that formed us. I didn’t want to remember the hurt and the ugliness and the general feeling of hostility caused by wealth and status that existed between us.

This was too much.

I hadn’t even said what I needed to say. I hadn’t even gathered my thoughts enough to string them into the kind of thread that would patch up all those shredded pieces. I hadn’t told him that I had prayed, in the early hours of the morning, and that I had asked Allah to illuminate a way. I didn’t tell him how he had inspired my change… How he made me want to be better… and I hadn’t even told him all the things that I so desperately needed to say way back when I never got to say them….

Instead, I just looked down again. So that was it. That’s all he really wanted to speak about. Alright then.

I shifted in my seat, now intensely aware of the silence and not sure if it was my cue to leave. After all, there was no need for me to be sitting here with a strange man, if we had nothing more to discuss.

Hamzah’s focus had now been shifted to Zaid, who was now suddenly a little more unsettled, as he let us know in his own way that it was probably time for bed. Knowing that his tummy was starting up again, my first instinct was only his comfort.

“I think Zaidoo needs to la-la,” I said cheerfully, swallowing back all emotion that may have surfaced, knowing that it was time to call it a day. “I’ll take him up.”

If not anything else, maybe this will be the beginning of a more civilised relationship between us, that we both would be more accepting of.

It would be the initiation of more understanding and compromise. That sounded like a good plan.

“Relax,” Hamzah said to me, instantly scooping Zaid up and cradling him in his arms expertly now, as he popped a dummy into his mouth.

I turned my face because it was doing strange things to my insides because I had no idea that Hamzah actually had it in him to do human things like rock babies to sleep.

“I’ll do it. I missed this guy way too much to part with him…”

I was instantly on edge now, feeling a little threatened that he was getting so cozy with my little guy. I knew it was silly of me but i couldn’t help the possessiveness.

”But you’ll have to,” I said firmly, not wanting to raise an argument about who was keeping him tonight. We had discussed this a while ago. “Part with him, I mean.”

“I know,” Hamzah said, but I could hear an edge to his voice. “But I may change my mind.”

I narrowed my eyes. Now he was making me anxious again. One minute I was sure that he was a saint, and the next I wanted to strangle him.

“You can’t,” I said firmly, shaking my head. “Not allowed.”

”I’m not allowed to change my mind?” He asked incredulously, and I shook my head vehemently, no longer feeling so aware of myself.

When I got ready for an argument, unfortunately, I was all about tit-for-tat. As much as I knew that I needed to work on it, I just couldn’t swallow my anger.

”Its not fair on me,” I said bluntly. What will I do without Zaid here? He was my safety net. “You can’t just swop and change as you please.”

”But what if I want to?” he insisted, looking at Muhammed Husayn now, almost as if he was talking to him. “I like change. It’s more exciting when it’s not expected. What if Zaid wants to?”

”Not in this case,” I insisted, revving myslef up for a proper motive to argue. How could he pin this on a baby? “Zaid doesn’t know any better!”

I couldn’t believe he was pursuing this.
Muhammed Husayn was looking at us both now, opening his mouth to try and stop us.

“Okay okay,” my brother said, glancing at me as if I was embarrassing him, “Can’t you’ll just come to some agreement…”

Zaid had conveniently abandoned the sleeping mission and was bobbing over Hamzah’s shoulder, flashing me a scampish grin.

It was almost as if they were all ganging up on me and I loathed the betrayal.

Frankly, even if Zaid started blowing me kisses right then, I wasn’t gonna sway.

“Maybe we can do a trade off?” Hamzah said furtively, and I knew he was aiming for a compromise. I wasn’t.

“I’m not interested,” I snapped, getting up and walking a few steps toward the exit to show I was serious,  but not wanting to go without Zaid. “I don’t compromise on my deals and that’s final. Muhammed Husayn, please bring Zaid up to me. Now.”

I shot my brother a warning glance and Hamzah had the cheek to look amused. He actually found it funny.

“Okay okay,” Hamzah laughed, putting his hands up in surrender, as I halted, waiting for him to hand over Zaid. “I’m sorry, I’m just joking. Just open this, and I’ll stop being a pest.”

Ugh. He was being ten times worse than a pest.

He had apologised and I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or angry. This was the worst part about Hamzah. He was always up to some stupid prank. I thought that he would have grown up from back in the day, but he obviously hadn’t got the memo. That was, clearly why, no-one intelligent ever trusted him enough to get involved with him. Except me. Clever me.

I was glaring at him now like he was the bane of my life.

Also, what was with this audacity to look so alluringly proud of himself and it made me even more agitated. Even as he handed a silver paper packet over, I was still fuming, feeling like I had compromised way more than my sanity to accommodate him. If this was another prank, he had to leave…

But because he sounded so sincere as he handed over the package that I had barely noticed was next to him all this time, I kind of crumbled a little, letting him pass it to me through my brother, whilst studying it silently, with a no-nonsense look on my face.

“I brought you something,” he said quietly, as I opened the packet. Actually, more like ripped it apart, due to my state of mind, which almost immediately dissipated as it opened. “It’s kind of an apology.”

And as he said it, the thing was, if I had a weak spot for anything, they weren’t many people who didn’t know what it was. Coffee and Cadbury chocolate were my favs, and just catching a glimpse of that purple-blue wrapper always made my heart sing, and as I pulled it out, the huge slab of Bubbly chocolate was basically a soothing to my eyes.

On it though, I hadn’t even processed, stuck with a fancy piece of washi tape was a little handwritten note:

‘Another chocolate, another chance?’

And my mind was so clouded with emotion that I couldn’t quite understand. And of course, I felt a little conned into forgiving him but if didn’t quite answer what exactly Hamzah was saying until he looked up at me, and then spoke.

“In case you are wondering,” he said with a grin, his eyes meeting mine for the first time that evening. “Muhammed Husayn did tell me that he ate your chocolate.”

Muhammed Husayn was looking only slightly apologetic, as I glanced at him.

“Also… I’ve been doing my fair share of thinking,” he said quietly, sounding extremely apprehensive. I figured this wasn’t easy for him to say. Who would have thought Hamzah actually lost his pluck? “And well…. after Maulana gave me a good talking to about being mature and stuff…. I spoke to your father and asked his advice…”

I actually had no idea that my father spoke to him , and as I looked toward where my father stood, he smiled at me, almost reassuringly.

”What did my father say?” I asked, a little calmer now, as I wondered what the two of them really spoke about and if he was really just talking about my father’s concerns… or someone else’s.

“He said he worried about you and Zaid,” he said steadily, glancing up at me, his eyes meeting mine and holding my gaze for a minute. “I did too. So I asked Allah to show me a sign about what I needed to do and when you told me just now that you had quit Hammond’s and wanted to start classes… Well, I suppose that was it.”

Wait. A sign?!

“Listen,” he said softly, obviously noticing my alarmed expression. “I know that we are all just figuring things out. What I do believe is that everything happens for a reason and all I can see is Allah piecing this whole thing together in a better way. And maybe it wasn’t meant to be before, and the timing was off, but I do firmly believe that Allah is showing us that sometimes these things can’t be planned or chosen, and maybe we lost so much and people we love but is it maybe possible that through this all, Allah is choosing us to be together in a most unconventional way..?”

Woah.

Us? Did he just say us? Together?

I swallowed the huge lump in my throat, biting back emotion as he said it while I spotted my father lingering by the doorway, with a strange look on his face.

Oh gosh. Tears were filling my eyes and I wasn’t even sure if I had was understanding right. I missed Layyanah so much right then.

But Hamzah wasn’t finished.

“I love Zaid too, and I know know you can do this on your own, but you shouldn’t have to. All I know is that I don’t want to have to miss another Eid day with him ever again.”

“…..”

That was me. It was just snot and tears and I couldn’t quite believe I was already starting to bawl my eyes out. Every damn thing just made me want to ugly cry. And I wasn’t certain but I thought I heard Hamzah just say that he might want me in his life.

And I’d like to say that I was bowled over by this very impromptu proposal, but I’m afraid that there weren’t many words to describe how I felt right then. It was a bitter – sweet occasion that brought back so many memories of Liyaket and Layyanah and I couldn’t help but think of how they would have felt right then.

And sometimes we look for these situations as if they can be found, but the thing is, sometimes it comes suddenly, overwhelming you, like a hot summer storm. Sometimes these things can’t be planned and chosen. Sometimes Allah intervenes directly, and the entire thing just becomes a new part of you that you’ve reached, and there’s no going back without soaking it all in.

And the rest as history, of course, because I already knew what I wanted. There was no way I could even hold Hamzah’s annoying tendencies against him because I knew that there was no better way to work this out, and despite my worries and concerns, Allah had come through for me in so many more ways that I had ever imagined

And of course, I had been on cloud nine till Monday morning, basking in congratulations and well- wishes and being extremely grateful to Allah for inspiring Hamzah’s decision, because I knew that none of it was possible without my Rabb who was forever looking out and keeping watch for me. Besides that, we knew that it was the best thing for Zaid, but it didn’t mean that it was only about him. We had both given our final answers two days after making isthikhaarah, and everything felt so right, that I couldn’t imagine it any other way.

But as always, reality had to intervene at some point, and I suppose it was a way of getting back at me as I found myself slightly anxious- making my way back to the office, facing real life once again.

Hands down, that last day at Hammond’s was the hardest and the huge set back for me. Seeing everyone again, going through the motions… was extremely overwhelming. Most of all, meeting Faadil, this time, making sure we stayed an arms length away from each other, with no emotional attachment at all, was most difficult.

And it was emotionally taxing and he had tried to convince me otherwise, but on that day we had both agreed that we were going to be mature about our break up, and wish each other well for the future. That’s what closure meant. The meeting had ended off on a slightly nostalgic tone, but the relief I felt after, hoping that he was no longer holding onto a future together helped me to shoved the thoughts out of my mind as I tried to push myself into the week ahead.

It was just that, even at that time I had made it clear, I got a feeling that the conversation wasn’t completely over. He had been cool about it, but from past rumours, I knew that Faadil was always the one to call things off, and he had tried to make it sound like he was, but my news had kind of knocked him off course.

Nonetheless, I shoved any stray thoughts out of my head, because at long last, I had made it to the Nikah day and my heart was in my throat as I thought of what  it would all entail. Over the past few months, I had imagined different and varying scenarios in my mind, but none could really compare to how it really felt that day, right up until Faadil phoned to say he was outside my parents home.

He hadn’t come inside. I remembered telling him once that my family was pretty traditional and I was glad he respected it. It was just that now, after trying to call and message multiple times, he had now let me know that he had taken a small road trip to see me without knowing that today was my big day. There he was, standing in the open, with grassy fields as a backdrop, familiar scent of Montale Oud that I had become to accustomed to was way too familiar for comfort.

And I know. I know what you’re thinking. Another man calling me and wanting to see me while I was supposed to be getting married on that day, was probably the lowest I could go. I was stupid. Really stupid. I felt crap about it too. But this time, it wasn’t like all those months ago, when Faadil had caught me at my weakest resolve.

It wasn’t about making the most of my unmarried status. I had grown up. I knew where my loyalties lay. I had made a commitment to Hamzah, and it meant much more than anything that had ever happened with Faadil. What I did know was that rejection was barely his cup of tea, and this was his last attempt at closure, or perhaps a last attempt to change my mind…

Perhaps he expected to win in the end, like he always made sure he did. But this time, I had to just take one look at him before I knew that this wasn’t just Faadil the great, coming to blow his own horn.

What started with sin, must end in ruin. Right?

“Mos,” he started weakly, as soon as he spotted me. The relief on his face as he saw me was undeniable. “You don’t know how glad I am to see you.”

I looked down, knowing that I owed it to Hamzah to at least be a little conservative. Maybe he thought that instead of calling, if he placed himself in front of me, it would change my mind. What Faadil didn’t know was that my attraction for him was based only on the temporary things that now meant nothing to me….

”Just hear me out,” he almost begged. “I know this is a little late, and I heard you’re getting married today. Mos, I can’t lose you…”

---

Dearest readers

Extra long bonus post. It was the other POV I had written so I tied it up… so will try and post again soon InshaAllah, since l I’m due for a short break after Mosee’s drama is over .. ❤️

Much love

A x

Mission Sunnah Revival

In line with love for Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Salaam), a narration goes like this:

Someone asked Ali (RA): 

“How much was the Sahaba’s love for the Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam)”

He replied: “By Allah! To us The Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) was dearer to us than our riches our children and our mothers, and was more cherishable than a drink of water at the time of severest thirst.”

SubhaanAllah… what perfect imaan they had…

The Sunnah of Quraan Tilawat…

Whilst we grapple to keep that connection alive out of Ramadhaan, I it’s recommended to set a certain amount of Quran to read every day, to purify the rusted hearts.

Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Sallam) said: “Stick to the reading of the Quran, as it is Noor for you in this li free and treasure in the Aakhirah.”

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aan

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

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