Old Wounds

Bismihi Ta’ala

Mohsina

Part 47

We all have things we don’t say. No matter how hard you try to avoid it, somehow, the truth always surfaces, and somehow, old wounds sometimes open up…

“Mos,” Hamzah called, as I speedily made my way down the cobbled pathway ahead of him, hearing his footsteps right behind me.

I didn’t turn back, even as his black trainers came into view, as I kept my head down. I wasn’t exactly angry, but sometimes, I could swear that Hamzah did need a filter on his mouth. And also…. well, it was good to make a guy sweat.

I was still in good spirits, despite it all.

And one of the reasons was that last night’s function had gone off smoothly. Being the first family function after years, it was actually great seeing everyone… even the annoying cousins that I usually didn’t enjoy seeing. On top of that was an influx of family, work friends… even Mickey and Lesley with Muslim guy from HR had pitched up and it was simply so amazing  to have them there on our special day.

Afterward, knowing  that Hamzah was planning to leave the next morning, we had retired to our own homes for a few hours, already exhausted, due to Zaid’s fussiness as he slept for all of four hours, before Hamzah came to fetch us both.

And it was expected that the goodbyes were a little more emotional than usual. My parents had both grown immensely attached to Zaid, and so had Nani and Jameela.

“Mohsina.”

His tone was pleading and he was slightly out of breath, having had to jog to catch up with me, but there was very evidently a speed limit on my performance, due to the baby in my arms.

”At least let me take Zaid so you can sulk in peace?”

I shot him a stony glare, not surprised to see the grin on his annoyingly handsome face.

“Open the door,” I said feistily, holding tighter onto Zaid as he fumbled in his pocket for the keys,

”Only if you forgive me,” he said earnestly, stepping forward to take Zaid from my arms. “Really. I did say I’m sorry. I was trying to avoid your question so I gave you a dumb response…”

Hmmm. Was that even an excuse? Comments like that weren’t completely baseless. That was the part that got me.

“What do you mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes and looking up at his face, noticing his suddenly grim expression, as he glanced at me back.

The conversation in the car had happened just a few minutes ago, but the words he had said hit a little deeper than intended.

The drive was pleasant enough, and surprisingly, Hamzah was a quiet driver.  While I chatted, snacked and munched  (mostly on chocolate) Hamzah kept his eye on the road in true dedication, determined to get there to our destination by late morning.

And even as I glanced at him from time to time, it took me a while to figure out that while I wondered if he was being quietly grumpy or if perhaps he wasn’t a morning person, that he was, in fact, actually reciting Qur’ān. As he drove the four hour drive to the local destination, sliding his phone open from time to time, probably checking some error or word he may have missed on his 13 line Quran application, Hamzah’s only purpose was to make sure he did his two para dhor for the day.

It was  after pulling into the most breathtakingly scenic road, seeing the mountains ahead of us, I had already figured that we weren’t exactly heading along  farm route like I assumed, and my first instinct was to ask him exactly what he had planned.

“So can I ask where we’re going?” I said, giving him a sideways glance as we sped along the smaller road, Hamzah’s eyes planted firmly on the road.

“Of course you can,” he said blandly, now glancing at me momentarily. “Doesn’t mean I have to tell you.”

I rolled my eyes at him as he smirked, and then turned serious again as he opened his phone again, and then moved his eyes to the road. Typical Hamzah.

And of course, as he did it, my whole intention was renewed, because even though he could obviously be a reclusive, irritable old grouch at times, I remembered my own attachment to Quran that had inspired me to change my life, and my pursuits and my spirits immediately lifted.

The fact that he was so dedicated and used this time for something worthy was quite admirable. I mean… This was, ideally, how our lives should be.

In the airport or the park, in between rounds or even in the shopping mall … our entire purpose and aim should be Qur’ān.  Qur’ān. Qur’ān. And how beautiful was it that the reading of it never makes one tired or weary… but it’s recital only increases ones love for the beautiful book of Allah. In fact, the heart only grows fonder, as recitation increases, and one finds himself or herself even more immersed in its love.

And if our hearts were pure as they should be we would never tire of reciting it.

And while I sat there watching him with severe FOMO, because I didn’t know enough of Qur’ān to recite without looking (and knowing that the minute I tried opening my phone application , I would immediately feel sick), all I could do was silently wish him to read louder as I put my head back and listened to his barely audible recitation as he continued.

“I had thought we were going to the farm,” I said when he stopped, feeling particularly soothed after three and a half hours in, not being able to take my eyes off the streaky sky that now came into full view, and seemed to stretch to beyond forever and more.

Hamzah didn’t look at me.

“Nah,” he said, as we turned into a dirt road. “Isn’t the farm standard a little… basic… for girls like you?”

Ouch.

Girls like me?

I frowned and I could immediately see the regret on his face as he realised what he had just said, and instantly apologized.

But the damage was done, and it stung. He had just implied that I was only after the big bucks. Again.

Besides, money and finances were a bit of a touchy subject for us … and I really didn’t want to delve into it.

It was just that, even my father didn’t know the full truth about what had happened when Hamzah had called off our Nikah and maybe it was time to see if Hamzah may know a little more than he let on…

But first, well… I had bigger fish to fry. He had just admitted that  there something he was hiding, too, and right then, I was determined to find out what it was.

I clenched my jaws together to stop my teeth from chattering, as we stood outside the door of the chalet where we would be spending that night at. I was literally freezing up.

I looked at his unflinching gaze, trying to read his expression. As always, Hamzah gave nothing away.

”Tell me, then, Mister,” I demanded, still annoyed but wanting to know more about the truth he wasn’t willing to reveal. “What you are avoiding telling me?”

I stepped back and plonked myself down on the cement bench behind me, not anticipating the coldness seep right through to my bone.

Yeech, it was frrreeeziing.

“Okay Missus,” he replied, shivering slightly in the morning cold too, even as he pulled on another puffer jacket over his current lightweight one. “Can we at least go inside first?”

I had one of my warmer coats over my grey modest tracksuit, while Zaid was covered in about four layers. Though the body heat was keeping him pretty comfy for now, I knew that it wasn’t a wise idea to be out in these cooler temperatures. I could also feel the tip of my nose going slightly numb, and I could assume that it would only be a few minutes before it started running unattractively, and I wouldn’t even have a hand to wipe it.

I nodded, a little half-heartedly, as Hamzah fiddled with the bunch of keys. It took a few tries before he got it, but eventually, the old wooden door creaked open and as he pushed it, signalling for me to go in, before he did, and pulled the door behind us.

And as I stepped in, I couldn’t help but feel immediately awakened, somewhere deep within me… a part of me that had been asleep for way too long.

The place was beautiful. Gorgeous, some may say. And if the door was any telltale sign of what lay beyond it, I might have thought that the place was a dump, but in actuality, I was kind of mesmerised by the untainted view before me.

SubhaanAllah. It was simply glorious. It had been a long time since I had appreciated nature like that.

The huge glass windows before me boasted most spectacular scenery, overlooking one of the most amazing canyons. For some reason, I always loved the time of year when everything bursts with its last beauty, as if nature had been saving up all year for the grand finale… for days full of a fine, pale sunshine that sifted through the late, leafless golden red array.. Autumn had always been my favourite season. The air was as crisp as the leaves on the trees, and a sky so blue spread before us, that you could drown in it…

As I stared, for a minute, I forgot that I even had Zaid in my arms.

”Do you like it?”

I withheld my answer until I put Zaid down, glad to see that he didn’t even stir. He had been up early, despite the late night, and it was about time he caught up with all his missing sleep.

”This is stunning,” I said truthfully. “I’m not sure how you even found this place.”

It was tucked away at the end of one of the most bumpy dirt roads, but it was worth getting up at 4am and travelling eternity and beyond for.

It also looked like a woman had a hand in the room preparation.

Rose petals were scattered along the floor, and bottled grape juice was perched on the bed pedestal. I wanted to ask him if Rabia had been involved, but mentioning her would probably immediately dampen my spirits. I didn’t want to stoop down to her level and rat her out, but Rabia had come to take Zaid the night before, it felt like she gave me the complete cold shoulder and I was a little annoyed about it.

Like, what did I ever do to her, except give her tit-for-tat when she really deserved it. She couldn’t really be holding a grudge from so long, could she?

Either way, I had made a firm resolution after Ramadhaan to keep myself out of people’s business and avoid picking out their faults. Even if it meant overlooking my slightly annoying sister-in-law, and acting as if it didn’t affect me, I was at least going to try. At least Saaliha was nice, even though she kept apologising to me for her sister gatecrashing the wedding towards the end.

That was a cute thing though, and when I met her, I found myself instantly taking a liking to Fareeha too.

”I saw it online,” he said easily, pulling off his jacket as he looked around, feeling the air around us ease off, as the under-floor heating warmed it up.  “Imraan knows the people who own it. Strangest thing ever. They have an Instagram page.  It actually looks exactly like the pictures.”

He had that look on his face and I knew he was trying to provoke a reaction and the old squabble we always had about social media, but nowadays, it didn’t bother me much. With all the excitement during the past two weeks, I didn’t quite need the dopamine influx and had kept my Instagram posting to a bare minimum. I had come a long way. I no longer had the urge to show my life to everyone who followed me.

The reality was far more engaging. I just hoped that I didn’t slip into old habits when things calmed down…

”I can see what you’re doing,” I retorted, narrowing my eyes at him as I pulled off my scarf and cap almost unconsciously. “Trying to distract me so I don’t ask about what you were hiding. Just spill it.”

And as Hamzah opened and closed his mouth, almost as if he was going to say something witty back, but got thrown off, and it only struck me then that it was the first time that he had actually seen me without my hijab, and I kind of wished that I had at least been a bit more dignified about removing it.

Why was I like this? Maybe Nani was right when she called Jameela and I jungalees yesterday.

“Okay, gorgeous,” he said breezily, after a few seconds, walking toward the glass doors that led outdoors, feeling my cheeks reddening slightly at the impromptu compliment.

He had pulled opened the door that led outside slightly, promptly lighting a cigarette as he stood there and turned to me.

“I’ll tell you, alright? I didn’t want to go back there because there are too many memories.”

He placed the cigarette in his mouth and pulled in deeply as we looked at each other, me slightly confused, before I finally asked:

”What memories exactly?” I said carefully, knowing that things may have happened there that I probably had no idea about. I had taken a seat on the ottoman at the end of the bed, facing him.

He didn’t say anything straight away. Instead, he turned his face toward the open door, releasing a cloud of cigarette smoke than dawdled in the crisp morning air almost rythmically, before he turned back.

”Memories of our friends,” he said in low tone, after a few seconds of silence. “Liyaket. His wedding. Being there with him almost every holiday before that. Memories of all the good times I want to forget. Those kind of memories. You know?”

I swallowed and nodded, feeling an inevitable wave of grief overcome me as I digested just how lost Hamzah seemed right then.

I didn’t expect that. I didn’t expect him to actually have real emotions that affected him and made him into entirely different and softer kind of character, who wasn’t always messing around and chasing the next good thing.

Death. One of the most painful reminders about the inevitability of this life. One of the most resilient kind of forces that pull you right out of your comfort zone.

I wanted to go forward and comfort or hug him, offer him some soothing words, but… well, we weren’t exactly at that kind of comfort level with each other as yet and I couldn’t even think of what to say…

Also, he was puffing away at his menthol cigarettes with such ferocity that I wasn’t sure that he’d even notice me through all that smoke.

As you may have gathered, I wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of Hamzah’s smoking habit and often stayed as far away as possible.

And it was just as well, because Hamzah had already slipped through the opening, onto the balcony, and I didn’t blame him.

It was a most enchanting outlook. Mountains upon mountains, with the sun at its highest point right then, almost unveiling the naturally landscaped glory of nature that mesmerised us so completely.

A wired little bird feeder was situated on the edge of the balcony, and while I watched, tiny, colourful birds made their way in and out through little squares, arguing and teetering in a most adorable fashion as they pecked along at the scattered seeds, almost as if this was their most eventful meeting of the day.  I was sure that Zaid would enjoy watching them when he woke. He was starting to notice things and this would probably have him gurgling in glee.

And as I watched Hamzah, though I wanted to venture out too, I had a feeling that he needed his privacy right then, and I didn’t want to lose myself in the beauty as yet. Actually, I didn’t want to immerse myself in the moments, as much as they were calling out to me…

For some reason, I was still holding back. So much had happened in such a short time, and I felt as if needed to just let myself deal with it in the easiest way possible…

And as I turned away from him, knowing that Zaid would need another bottle shortly, I kind of absorbed myself in my tasks for the time-being.

I quietly folded my scarf with the pin on the counter, pulling my legs up onto the couch, I hastily pulled out laptop to check up on emails, as I tried to think of something to say when he came in next.

I stared at my laptop, a little displaced. I didn’t have anything to officially submit, but it was my new tool to keep me off social media. It wasn’t that I didn’t go on at all. I was just majorly limiting posting and getting carried away with baseless and mindless content.

Also… well, it had become a goal of mine to at least try and be the kind of wife that I wanted to. Maybe it was circumstances. Maybe it was history. Maybe it just needed more time.

I wasn’t there yet, but I knew precisely the kind I wanted to be.

An intelligent woman, a sincere well-wisher, a pious soul, a patient human, a comforting wife, a caring spouse, a loving mother, an expert homemaker… The Ideal Woman and a dream for many…

It was on the famous occasion when Rasulullah (sallallahu ‘alaihi wasallam) stood up trembling, heading home to seek rest and solace in the tender care of none other than Sayyidah Khadeejah (radhiyallahu ‘anha).

This great woman, the best friend that she was, calmly comforted Rasulullah (sallallahu ‘alaihi wasallam) giving him the strength he needed.
She addressed him thus, “By Allah! Allah Ta‘ala will never disgrace you! Indeed you join and maintain family ties, you bear the burdens of others, you earn for those who cannot acquire a livelihood, you extend hospitality to your guests and you provide assistance when a calamity or disaster strikes.”

Sayyidah Khadeejah (radhiyallahu ‘anha) spared no effort in consoling Rasulullah (sallallahu ‘alaihi wasallam) at this greatest moment , which is perhaps the greatest of her deeds.

But this was the best of the best… and I knew that there were no greater examples that the Sahaabiya, and as looked into her life, I could tell that this was who  Sayyidah Khadeejah Al-Kubraa (radhiyallahu ‘anha) was.

And though I was inspired and aspired for something even close to that, I always knew that I would fall short, because of course, my husband wasn’t the greatest human of all time, Nabi Muhammed (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam).

Yes, we all want that perfect kind of love. The beautiful life that you want to live every moment and never share, because you just want to have it all to yourself will it. Everyone wants things cut out for them..

But that was the test, wasn’t it?

Everyone has their battles, and their bridges to cross. This was a unique kind of situation and I knew Hamzah and I still had multiple hurdles to cross. Ill feelings may crop up. Old wounds may open. Encountering speedbumps were inevitable and without delving into the whole bed of roses advice, I already knew that in fully winning my husbands heart, I was going to have to be a little more than just the basics.

And we had gotten this far, and while many people try to please everyone else in gaining their admiration, I knew that there was so much of beauty in the Hadith that stated that when the woman pleases her husband, then immediately, her Jannah is made.

I wondered what I would tell him when he came back. Maybe I would be explain to him that it was how it was all meant to be. Maybe I would tell him that perhaps those who have passed and left have so much better that had been prepared for them.

And as my ears picked up the sound of a cutely disgruntled moan from the bed, my heart immediately lifted because I knew just the thing to be the perfect ice-breaker. Zaid. I knew taking him out, armed with him on my hip would immediately clear the air to say what I wanted to.

Getting to him before the squealing became a full-on howl, I hastily picked Zaid up and checked his nappy, glad to see that it didn’t need a change right then.
I had bundled him all cosily, up in his jacket and beanie as I stepped out the door, all psyched up to conquer the unknown, ready to make the announcement that Zaid the cutest, cutesy was awake.

And as I felt the icy gust of wind hit us as I stepped onto the wooden deck, it was at the very same moment that Hamzah met my eye, as he sat on the wrought iron chair, talking on the phone with his mass amount of stubbed cigarettes next to him.

He turned to me as he saw me, and something about the way he looked at me right then told me that this wasn’t just a regular phone call.

I paused for a minute, wondering if I should maybe go inside, but he raised his hand at me, as if to signal for me to wait.

“Listen, bro,” he was saying, sounding a little hostile as he spoke. “Today is not possible. I don’t know when is. I’m not even in town. I don’t care how urgent she thinks this is-“

There was silence as I assumed the person cut him off, and as Hamzah looked exasperated, he promptly said he’ll call back and cut the call.

Zaid let out a huge, excited gurgle and threw himself forward as he saw Hamzah, noticing that he was there, but Hamzah just smiled half-heartedly and seemed extremely preoccupied.

“Sorry, Mos,” he said, his voice low as he typed something in his phone. “You will never believe who that was.”

And of course, my mind was already in overdrive as it  already concocted all the plausible possibilities… and as I deliberated which one to voice, Hamzah was probably too stressed to even notice the worry in my own eyes.

He had already lit another cigarette, puffing away as he looked outside, almost as if he was trying to draw some serenity from the beautiful view.

“Who was it?” Was all I managed to half-croak, intensely afraid of what the answer may be.

Hamzah’s expression, as always, was unreadable, and my heart thudded incessantly in my chest, as I wondered if our entire day would be spoilt with that one phone call.

And just when I felt I couldn’t take the suspense any more, Hamzah walked up to me, gently lifted Zaid up to his shoulder, whilst pensively meeting my gaze.

“That was Hashim,” he said quietly.

The mention of Hashim’s name already stumped me. I couldn’t imagine what he wanted.

And like picking the scab of an old wound, the pain my friend had once felt had resurfaced now, for completely different reasons.

“He wants to meet Zaid.”


Dearest Readers,

I think I am due for my short break and am hoping I didn’t leave the readers with a huge cliffhanger ❤️
Just a quick one that I’d love to know how readers feel about:
I’ve been deliberating over this, and I’m just wondering if Mos should tell Hamzah the entire truth about her recent corporate past. Just curious as to what the readers think… and what would the correct thing to do be.

Love to hear from the readers ..

Much Love

A x

Don’t forgot our Mission Sunnah Revival

❤️

The Sunnah of Giving up arguing and having good manners…

Whilst we grapple to keep that connection alive out of Ramadhaan, and approach the month of Dhul Hajjiah, let try and increase our Ibaadat.

Abu Umamah Al-Bahili Ra reported Nabi (ﷺ) said,

“I guarantee a house in Jannah for one who gives up arguing, even if he is in the right;

and I guarantee a home in the middle of Jannah for one who abandons lying even for the sake of fun;

and I guarantee a house in the highest part of Jannah for one who has good manners/Akhlaaq.

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… May Allah enable us to practise..💕

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah ­


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20 thoughts on “Old Wounds

      • Jazaakillah
        I think Mos should tell Hamza that all the details of what happened from the time her father was in hospital until the day of the wedding because she wouldn’t want to have to face Hamza’s wrath all over again when it comes out because there are many people out there to make things difficult for her…

        Liked by 2 people

  1. I think before they start their actual life.. they should sit down and have a word.. Mo’s mostly clearing her name about her dad and any funny business affairs about faadil because I know faadil might decide to ruin it for her and she shouldn’t live in fear where her emotions are concerned..

    Lovely post MashaAllah sister

    Liked by 5 people

  2. I also feel like they should sit and talk about everything. Clear the air so there’s no assumptions whenever some doubt appears because I fell if they don’t they’ll always be an invisible barrier between them. They won’t be transparent to each other. Especially if faadil decides to interfere..If she was marrying a total stranger that didn’t know anything about her life then she could just bury that and carry on.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Posted without finishing my reply 🤦‍♀️ Jazakallah for lovely heart warming post. Those 2 are just made for each other with their witty banter.Enjoy your break and we’ll be waiting very very eagerly for the next one!!

      Liked by 2 people

  3. Btw ….what did Faaria do in the wedding?
    Please don’t leave us in suspense about tht part?

    Also I think the air needs to be clear about the fthers pst etc
    About her corporate life all details don’t need to be spelt out
    Feel it would really ruin their relationship coz it’s the past that she has made taubah from..she must mention enough for him to know how far she’s come but that’s enough..
    I dnt think any guy would be so accepting of his wife other activities when it includes almost marrying another guy.

    The lessons are so 👌

    Liked by 4 people

    • Very true. I love your point of view. So maybe clear the air briefly without getting into the details about faadil but I have a nagging itch that maybe he should know abouy faadil proposing because this is faadil we talking about. It may just come out from somewhere that he proposed with his 1 carat diamond ring and hamza might flip if he’s hearing it first time. But then again she’s married to him and not faadil so maybe he won’t flip…too confused😋so ill just wait for you to tell us🤗🤗

      Liked by 2 people

      • Yes. I do agree with this viewpoint too. What’s past is past, and don’t we always say that if Allah had forgiven, who are we to judge… but then again. This is a tricky situation 🙈
        Let’s see… ✨✨

        Liked by 1 person

  4. I think mos has some explaining to do. Hamzah deserves to know. For all he’s been. I know it’s hard for a character like mos to go into detail, but he deserves to know why she did what she did that led to them breaking off the first time

    Liked by 1 person

  5. But. What happened with fadil. She doesn’t have to go into every minute detail. It’s hers to carry. It’s between her and Allah her sins that she repented for. Hamza is human. And now her spouse. She has wholeheartedly chosen him and also repented to Allah for her past. So what she tells hamza and doesn’t is up to her. She doesn’t have to bear all her sins out . I remembered a Hadith of umar (rad) regarding a girl who had repented….

    Liked by 1 person

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