Mohsina Part 69
Life consists of two days. When it’s for you, don’t be proud and reckless, and when it’s against you, be patient… For both days are a test for you.
When I was younger, in my childish idealism, I always believed that everything could be fair. To me, no one should be wronged or hurt, and if they were, justice must be served. I failed to understand that this world is inherently imperfect.
We will always mess up. And in those mess ups, people would be hurt. The world would not always be fair.
It took one look at Hamzah for me to realise that he wasn’t angry. He wasn’t angry at all.
What he was, was something worse.
Dis-a-ppointed. It sounded like three different words, not just syllables, as I felt the depth of his emotion sink within me.
And as I scrolled through my social media feed in a moment of silence and unfiltered disbelief, in desperate need of a distraction, I thought I would find some relief. Luck had it (or maybe it was completely intentional) that a snap of Rabia with her breakfast smoothie, on my kitchen counter, immediately came onto my feed, and I could tell that she had posted it as soon as she left.
Morning goals! *smoothie emoji*
And then the hashtags.
#gymvibes #heathfreak #loveyourbody and it went on and on with the audacity to add in a #brotherbear somewhere there until I literally wanted to barf on my iPhone.
And honestly, I was peeved. And I wished that I was reading it wrong, but to me it just went to show that even after all that, Rabia had absolutely no remorse for anything she had said. It didn’t matter who she hurt. What she said. How deep her words cut.
That was social media, folks. No matter the cost, the post must be posted, and the game must go on.
I wasn’t the kind of person who got offended easily. I had always been a tough nut. But after what Rabia had said, with everything that had happened so far between Hamzah and I, the fact was that I was hurt by her words. It was like she intended harm, and would stop at nothing.
I was way angrier than I’d been in ages and Rabia had been the cause. I wanted to grab her face and shove it in the soapy sink, but of course I couldn’t do that.
Not without looking as psycho as she was.
But here’s the thing: Sometimes when everything else in you is spent,…and there’s no more space for hurt and betrayal… Sometimes there’s nothing else that’s left to feel, but disappointment. It was just that sometimes disappointment in itself feels like you’ve lost everything that ever mattered.
And I know that forgiveness was divine and all of those very sensible things that people usually say to cushion the blow of brokenness.
The thing was, I could see what Hamzah felt, but I was too angry to even give a damn.
Rabia had crossed a line.
Hamzah tolerated it. It was simple.
And maybe I shouldn’t have been so harsh, but I couldn’t help myself. Breaking up pieces of me didn’t come without consequences.
Rabia still had the audacity to look unruffled, even as I stalked out of the room, while Hamzah watched us both with his mouth half hung open.
“Mos,” Hamzah called, and I had seen his entire entire expression change as I slammed the bedroom door.
And while I paced, I picked up the words ‘stuff’ and ‘wait in car’, but I didn’t bother to even try and stop them before they were going to wherever they would be going. Frankly, I was sick of this game Rabia was playing and I was really so done with being the doormat.
If livid was a person, then I knew i would be it. I flashed my eyes angrily at Hamzah as he came in and looked at me, and I could feel his questioning gaze on me before I even met his gaze.
Why? His eyes were saying, and I wished that you had the guts to yell at him.
“Mos,” he said aloud, and I could feel the awkwardness in his voice, trying to hold back his own emotion. “What happened?”
“Why don’t you ask her?” I said nonchalantly, not wanting to explain further, knowing my words had probably penetrated deep.
He paused and watched me as I busied myself with TikTok instead. I knew he hated that but I was doing it to rile him up. For some sick reason, I wanted a reaction out of him, like Rabia had invoked a reaction out of me.
I was waiting for it, but what he said still felt like a punch in the gut.
“Did you really have to be so harsh with her?”
Oh. No. He didn’t.
The question came after 10 seconds or so of silence, and I couldn’t help but glare at him as he asked it.
How dare he? How dare he?
“You know what?” I said, my voice sounding as if someone was strangling me. “I’m exhausted with your games, Hamzah. First you leave, ignoring my calls, with no idea of what on earth happened to -“
”Mos, let me explain-“ he started, but I was done with him talking.
He had enough time to talk. The whole damn day was enough opportunity. Maybe it was the last straw. Maybe it was that instagram post. But right then, was when something within me snapped, and there was no going back.
”Let me finish,” I barked, anger rising within me again. Maybe it was hormonal and it was too much for that day, but I just couldn’t hold myself back. I wasn’t going to let him shut me up as if my feelings don’t matter. Was it only Rabia that mattered?
“You leave the house in a horrible mood,” I said in a raised tone, my finger pointed and voice sounding foreign to even myself. “Without any idea of what’s going on the entire day. I try to call you like a billion times, but you choose to ignore me! You turn up after twelve full hours, unannounced with your sister who hates me from the day we got married, and literally camps at our place! She is vicious in every sense of the word, obsessed with Instagram and digging up pieces of my past, and on top of that, she insults me, tells me that I just happened to land myself a husband by default, while accusing me of being a damn gold digger who only married you for Zaid and your money! And after putting up with all her crap, you still have the audacity to come in here, all high and mighty, asking me if I really had to be so harsh with her?!”
I was fuming. My voice had risen to a high pitched screech and my chest was heaving from the outburst.
I was barely the snitch type, to harbour ill feelings and talk about what people did to me. I really wasn’t. I was more the type to silently let these things brew, and tolerate insult after insult, putting up walls and acting as if it barely bothered me, even when it did.
I could not believe that I had said all that. He was looking like he had been stunned to silence.
”She really said that?” He asked, his expression turning stoic as I stared back as him after almost a full minute.
I wanted to laugh in his face, but I didn’t even have the energy for that.
Like I would lie.
I hated feeling this way. It was as if I had to prove myself. I was trying to creep out of this big black hole and I kept on slipping and falling right back in.
Anger was all consuming. It made you mad. it made you irrational. It was also in those highly charged moments that you lost control of all these sensible, sometimes even your thoughts.
And I wished that I could tell Rabia that I wasn’t after money. It was barely my intention. I wished she knew what I had turned down to make this work. And I knew that I didn’t deserve a pat on the back, but I definitely didn’t deserve the crap that I put up from her.
And as much as I tried to fight it, the feelings and upset and hopelessness were consuming me.
Hamzah had spun around, looking slightly disorientated, and I could only assume that he had gone to drop Rabia back home, leaving me with a gaping hole in my gut that left me feeling at a complete loss.
And that’s when the demons find their way in, through the little nooks and crannies that pave a path into the mind.
And at that point, I couldn’t believe it, but the feelings of inadequacy right then had reduced me to a point where I found my thoughts going back to Faadil and my past, and wondering if things might have been any different if I had chosen another path, instead of putting myself through this.
And I knew it was wrong. But when Shaytaan gets even the smallest of gaps to penetrate, it’s highly possible that he will go all out in his efforts and have an absolute field day.he makes you question your life. Your choices. He even makes you wonder… what if, the path you had chosen, wasn’t the right one for you, even when taqdeer had already deemed so.
Indeed, Iblis (Satan) only enters people by the measure he is able. His ability to do so is increased or decreased according to the degree of their mindfulness, their negligence, their ignorance, and their deeds. Know that the heart is like a fortress. (The fortress needs to be protected by the mindfulness of Allah)
And I wasn’t even sure where Hamzah had gone. He hadn’t even apologised. I had an idea that Zaid was still at his Ma’s place, and I was sure that he would be were perfectly fine for a at least an hour or so more. I had even expressed milk for him, but now that he was eating a little, leaving him for a few hours wasn’t that bad anymore.
I sighed as I cleared the kitchen counter, trying to coax myself into calming down as I went back to the room, barely even hearing the door opening behind me as Hamzah walked into the room again, hands stuffed in his pockets as he watched me carefully. Perhaps he was trying to figure out if I had regained my sanity. I could see him hesitant, trying to figure if it was safe to talk, but I was far from worried about what he thought, and I was so done.
I didn’t ask him where he went to. I didn’t ask him what had happened with Rabia. I didn’t even want to know.
”Mos, this is all my fault,” he said softly, and I could see him preparing for something bigger he wanted to say. “I’m so sorry. I won’t keep anything from you again. I’ve been thinking that we need fixing, and I came back here precisely because I didn’t want to keep anything else from you and there’s no better time that to fix this than right now…”
And then I felt bad. Like, why was I even like this? I couldn’t even stay angry with him properly, when he clearly deserved it.
He wasn’t done though.
“This morning, when I came back, I came to tell you that Liyaket’s mother asked me to help with the house,” he said softly, and I felt a stab of emotion as he said it, knowing exactly what he was talking about. We were meant to go back there months ago. “She wanted me to do it when I dropped Zaid. I couldn’t bring myself to go in there on my own.”
Although he had gone in once or twice to let a cleaner in, I knew that he hadn’t spent as much time as he needed to sort things out.
I didn’t answer. I was feeling guilty and annoyed at once. It wasn’t a very pleasant place to be….
I wasn’t sure if it was the emotion in his voice, or the responsibility that I owed to Layyanah that made me turn and look at him. His eyes were downcast and his fingers were twiddling together as he spoke, and I could tell that he was feeling uneasy about it. I could also tell that his emotions were all over the place and he wanted to do this as much as he wanted to stuff toothpaste up his nose.
This entire thing was going to be one of the most difficult experiences since Liyaket’s and Layyanah’s death and I was feeling heart sore for everything it would bring.
And that was why I just couldn’t be the kind of person who would leave him to face it in his own. From the moment our friends passed away, it was like their deaths were the invisible thread that connected us together.
I couldn’t imagine him having to go through and sort their stuff out on his own. I couldn’t imagine all those emotions he would feel, and how he would fare with them if I wasn’t there to support him through.
”Would you like to come with?” He said softly, and I knew that it was coming from a place of desperation.
I couldn’t just ignore his request. Not now.
Without even realizing it, I had nodded and agreed, knowing that it may be time that I tucked away my pride and cut him some slack.
“Oh, and I’m sorry about Rabia,” he said softly, shaking his head apologetically. “She won’t be allowed home for a long time.”
I felt a little lighter, as he said that. I did think that she had crossed boundaries, but I also felt bad that I had been so forthright with her.
It wasn’t even his fault, but I didn’t want Rabia to take up more of my energy. I wanted to move past her for now and deal with her later.
I had been angry. So, so angry. I also knew that the issue with her would be resolved with time. I would sort it out, and things would be okay. The girl just had a helluva lot of tension and she was making us her punching bag.
“I’m coming,” I said vaguely, letting the words be our truce as he walked out and I pulled on an abaya and scarf, trying to psyche myself up for the rest of the day ahead.
And perhaps I should have seen this part coming. The part where we picked up the pieces of the past. Maybe with meeting Hashim and all this talk about Zaid and Liyaket, Hamzah knew that he would have to do it sooner than later.
What I didn’t expect was feeling the way I did as we too the offramp, realising that it was the first time that I would face the reality of Layyanah’s passing head on.
Everything that had happened so far had made me question do much. Liyaket had pushed her to resolve things with her family. Hashim pushing so hard had made me question what happened with Layyanah and her family during those last few weeks. When I was with Faadil, I hadn’t been as close to her as I wanted to. I was pulling away on purpose.
Had she gotten to where she wanted to be? Did they actually make some kind of resolution to be civil? It made me question why they didn’t come forward sooner, or why they hadn’t come into the picture when Hamzah and I were still trtying to figure our way around a new born baby.
The questions were mulling over in my mind as we drove through the outer lying town in the outer suburbs where our farm and Liyaket’s mother still stayed.
We made small talk as we entered the little suburb, feeling it awkward without Zaid there as the buffer.
And reaching the house felt like how it always did.
From a feeling of grief, it had become a mixture of anxiety with just a tinge of sadness. The feeling reason for the anxiety every time we came here was because I knew for a fact that Liyaket’s mother never opened the house. I knew that at some point, we would have to be the ones to do it, and today, the emotions that overcame me were a little too severe to internalise.
It was the second time Hamzah had asked me that in the last two days, and I knew that he had good reason to. I could literally see the fear written on my face. Coming back here, knowing that if I have to face the life that they’re lived along with everything they owned was sending a fierce kind of turbulence through my system.
I was frozen in my spot for a few minutes before we stepped onto the patio. I knew that it wasn’t going to be an easy task, but as Hamzah turned the key that he had in his pocket in the lock, I really didn’t expect all the emotions that flooded through me as we stepped into the house. It had been over four months, and from the minute I lost Layy, I knew that my heart would never be the same again.
And as Hamzah greeted loudly, his serene voice soothing me in ways that he couldn’t have imagined, my eyes were already fixated on the hook on the wall, where Liyaket’s jacket and Layyanah’s scarf hung, like someone had just put it up there.
I sucked in a breath as I saw it, not believing for a few moments that they were really gone from this world for good. It was so, so freaky… being here, as if we were bystanders in their life, when in fact, they were never coming back to live it. The ache in my gut seemed like it could never be filled.
And my word, I barely expected the emotion that stifled me at that point. Even after these months, it felt almost surreal.
I had already made my way into the kitchen, trying not to notice the two plates that were still lying on the dish rack, as if they had just been washed this morning. The fridge was still running, and the microwave time was flashing with some nonsensical time, as if waiting for Liyaket to come sort it out, like I’d heard Layyanah nag him to do before.
We had already moved through the main area, noting a table cloth folded on the chair next to the nook and natural light streaming in through the Venetian blinds as we passed through to the dining room and hallway… hesitating for a moment before we entered the bedroom.
And somehow, as I met his eye before reaching the threshold just before the passage, I couldn’t help but hold his gaze for a little longer, wanting to savour this feeling of being bound by something that had connected us in so many ways, once upon a time.
Two bedrooms were positioned on either side of us as we stood, next to the couch that Hamzah had gifted Liyaket when they had gotten married. And even though we weren’t proposed at the time, Layyanah wouldn’t fail to express her appreciation about Hamzah (even though it annoyed me to no limits) for buying them the most comfortable couch that ever existed. I watched Hamzah’s face as he took it all in, letting emotions settle as he watched me back, knowing that without them; without their intervention the way Allah had planned it… there would have probably been no us.
I turned away as the realisation hit me, breathing in shakily as we both gazed at the remnants of a life that was lived with so much of hope and vigour.
I could literally picture the exact spot on the corner couch that Layyanah would sink herself into with a bowl of popcorn and coffee (which was her go-to even before she had fallen pregnant), with some Islamic book while she chatted away as if she didn’t have a care in the world. I could almost hear Liyaket’s voice calling for Layyanah from the entrance, before he made the Salaam to announce his arrival after going out to the Masjid.
I felt tipped over by the gusts of life that had come without warning, falling to the floor and shattering in its wake. Who would have thought that we would ever be where we were now, Hamzah and I yanked out of our menial lives and forced into adulthood almost overnight, making decisions that would carve the rest of our lives out with such precision…
It was as if an arrow of grief had struck my heart once again as I remembered, and I didn’t even realise that I was crying until a lone tear made its way down my cheek, and Hamzah refused to meet my eye.
And it felt crazy because there we were, both standing at the entrance to their room, and my legs literally felt like lead as I tried to lift them up to move forward. I wasn’t ready to open the door. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to.
Their bedroom would be the place with the most memories… a venture into an unknown territory where I could only assume would be the most poignant kind of emptiness that one could feel.
“Must I open it?”
It was Hamzah who was asking me, almost as if he needed permission to go ahead and turn it. I knew exactly how he felt. Like we were intruding in something we weren’t supposed to see.
I found myself nodding as I looked at him, watching his hand as his long fingers twisted around the knob, carefully turning it, almost too scared to force it open.
And as it loosened, and we stepped back, almost in fearful anticipation, I really wasn’t sure what we expected.
Maybe we thought our friends would jump out from their bedroom and tell us that the last few months were just a big joke. Maybe we expected some kind of major intervention that would take place as we glanced into the empty room. Perhaps we were just expecting something noteworthy.
But all we got was the deafening silence and reminder that no matter what went on in this world from the moment they had gone, nothing had changed. Nothing in this world was going to bring them back, and everything that lay before us right then was nothing but a reminder of how temporary this world was and would always be.
From the half drunk water bottle that lay next to Layyanah’s bed, to the car magazines and that Liyaket had an obsession with from the time he was a kid next to his bed pedestal… I knew for certain that no one had been in this room since the Night Of. The Accident. It was like a bad word that none of us ever spoke of.
And even though we both stood back for a while, not wanting to touch a thing, but knowing that we had to if we had to achieve what we came here for, it was one of the most difficult tasks in my life to step inside. It took us a few minutes, but I went forward first, as I picked up the bottle, feeling the layer of dust on my fingers as I held it, watching Hamzah from the corner of my eye go over onto Liyaket’s side in quick succession. It was like breathing in an old scent that we had once been addicted to.
The grief felt like my chest was ready to cave in from the weight of the pain that sat in my rib cage.
“I’m taking this for Zaid,” Hamzah almost whispered as he folded a prayer hat that lay on the bed and put it in his pocket. “It was Liyaket’s favourite.”
The reality of what he had just said almost broke my heart. It’s like all this time, we had forgotten.
For Zaid. Only he wouldn’t really know the man who it belonged to. Everything we own, everything we treasure…
Only for our heirs, right? In actual fact, everything here belonged to their heirs. Everything we own, even the most basic piece of fabric, couldn’t even go with Liyaket because there was nothing in this world that holds enough weight to carry through to the Aakhirah.
I breathed in, letting the bitter taste of loss settle in my chest, feeling like I had lost a piece of myself that I could never replace.
The feeling hovered over me as Hamzah’s wheeled in some cases we had come equipped with to pack in, and as we worked, albeit silently, it felt as if something in the air had shifted that moment. It was like coming back there had somehow settled our scores, grounded us, and made us realise once again, what we were here for… ultimately.
Knowing that there was a purpose and some kind of reason we were doing this too, helped us to weather the pain.
There were so many things that had been collected and stored in just that short time they were married … things that we didn’t know what to do with, things that we were sure that would probably never get used… but we packed silently because the plan was to move everything to storage so the house could be rented out as an income for Liyaket’s mother. It was about time that we gained the strength to do it, and I knew that we were doing the right thing, despite how difficult it was.
Hamzahs voice was soft as he said it, and I knew that he was checking on me, despite always being stronger than I felt. I was somehow holding myself together, but I knew that Hamzah was the last person I had to hide from. He was the one person who knew exactly how this felt.
“This is hard,” I said softly, not expecting my voice to sound like it did, as I raised my eyes to his. “Like heartbreakingly hard. You know?”
He looked at me, his face devoid of the usual smile he sported when he said it back.
“I know,” he said simply, in his usual tone, blinking and biting his lip to conceal his own emotion.
It felt like I was screaming from within my soul, but I knew that with every pang of loss I felt, Allah was purifying me throughout it all.
Through every emotion, everything else seemed trivial. I supposed that was what loss did to you. What life was about. Bigger things that happen make the smaller things seem so insignificant. Rabia, Nani and Jameela were distant thoughts to me, that barely fazed me.
There was something about picking up the pieces of the past that calmed my demented spirit. It was like I was slowly healing from inside, when I didn’t even know that I was bruised.
“There’s no way we can finish it all today,” Hamzah said softly, turning to me whilst running his hand through his hair under his prayer hat. “But at least it’s a start. I’m just a little disappointed that I took so long to do it. I was a chicken. Scared. Being here… It’s comforting… in a weird way.”
It was. It so was. Instead of that gnawing loss, the fact that we were here and doing what was the right thing… it gave a sense of purpose.
“We can try and do the whole room today, at least,” I said, not even worried about the timing. I would check on Zaid and feed him while Hamzah went for salaah and then come back after.
“We can,” Hamzah said. “We don’t have to go to my parents today. Rabia will be around. I know she was out of line today. Sometimes I feel like she doesn’t think she is worthy of being good. Like she things that she’s only worth something or recognised when she acts up…”
I kept silent. Rabia was definitely crazy but I didn’t handle it in the best way either. I just couldn’t say it out loud.
“For what it’s worth, I really am sorry,” he said softly. “ I don’t want this to become a gaping hole you feel you can’t talk about. Please find it in your heart to let this go. I know she’s difficult but she doesn’t always mean-“
He was always so defensive…. still making excuses for her.
”Hamzah,” I said in a warning tone, stopping him mid-sentence, not wanting to go there again.
I knew what he was saying. He wanted me to be the noble one. To be compassionate and to forgive her. To win her over with goodness. I wasn’t sure if I had it in me.
Mu’adh ibn Anas reported: The Messenger of Allah, peace and blessings be upon him, said, “The best of virtues is that you maintain relations with one who cuts you off, that you give to one who deprives you, and that you forgive one who insults you.”
Source: Musnad Aḥmad 15191
And I got the lesson, but I also needed time. Some things don’t come as easily to others as they do to us.
Somehow, I knew that this battle would continue, but not now. It was still too fresh. Too raw. And didn’t it also work both ways? Rabia owed me an apology too. I just wasn’t sure if I would get it.
“Not here. Please. Let’s just… talk about something else,” I said quietly.
I didn’t want to fight. That was the last thing I wanted to do in Liyaket and Layyanah’s home, and if they were here, they probably wouldn’t approve either.
He stood silently for a minute, flashing an awkward smile in agreement before moving the suitcase and turning to the cupboard next to him, and speaking again. He took a deep breath again, and I wondered what next he had to say.
”Sure,” he said evenly. “Sorry. I was just wondering…. so… can I tell you about yesterday?”
I glanced up at him, a pair of Layyanah’s hair grips still in my hand as I packed them in a little vase I had carried for smaller things, and I couldn’t help but smile.
And why not? There was much to be said, I was sure. A whole lot more than I even anticipated. The main problem with couples these days is that instead of talking to each other, they talk to others, and that’s where the problems all start.
I really wanted to hear what he had to say.
I just didn’t know how it would blow me away, erasing my previous impressions a creating entirely different sort of scenario to the one that if had in my mind all this while.
“Tell me everything,” I demanded, knowing that it may take a while.
I wanted to hear every bit of what had been going on, from the beginning of when things got even a little bit complicated.
And he did.
My apologies about the delay. A longer post to make up for it. A little less drama… I think we need some calm for now… hehe
Shukran to all for reading, loving all the comments.
Mission Sunnah Revival:
Sunnah of Noble Character:
Nabi (SAW) gave attention, spoke and showed love to even the worst person of a nation until the person felt that he is being given special attention.
May Allah make us of those who uphold the Sunnah of character always.
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..💕
This post was bittersweet.
Sometimes, we need to heal pieces we didnt even jnow were so broken. And Allah guides us and helps us through it all.
As for hamzah, eish needs a smackaroon but shame he is trying just he needs to see what his sister really is.
Lovely chapter, leaves me yearning for more
Shukran for the lovely update
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So so true. Mohsina is also not exactly good with emotion so I find it refreshing to write about her and how she deals with it…
Hamzah is blinded in a very illogical way 🙈 shame, maybe he will wake up
Shukran sister 🤍
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Aww I can’t imagine the feeling of being so helplessness.. like you want that person to come back to you.. even just for a hug..
Subhanallah amazing writing MashaAllah.. but have you ever felt that way to write about it?
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Hmmm… as we get older, we lose more people and can relate to loss in different ways.
To lose a close friendship is painful in a different kind of way, but you know that you have something to look forward to because on the day of Qiyaamah, the righteous will be the only friends. Allah makes it such a beautiful and beneficial relationship in both worlds, SubhaanAllah. May Allah give us righteous friends.
Shukran dear sister ❤️
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Shewh this was one intense post.. The length was definitely appreciated.. There is definitely a different sense of calm you feel once u sort out loved one’s belongings.. But there is also a bittersweet feeling when you either use something of theirs or even wear something of theirs.. Guess grief is just something else.. Doesn’t entirely leave you, you just find ways to deal better..
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Ah shukran, dear sister…
Yes, most definitely- such a tragedy just hits a little hard sometimes
So true, it doesn’t go away and when there are tangible reminders it’s like you’re back at square one.. 💔 all over again
May Allah make it easy for all those who have lost loved ones… 💔❤️
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So bittersweet 💔💔
Grief is something that never truly leaves you… A reminder that life is so short and one day we all have to leave…
Lovely writing as always ❤️❤️
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Shukran dear sister… it truly is…
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Next post will be tmrw InshaAllah… sorry for the delay, the week just got too crazy. ❤️
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