From Heartbreak to Hope

Bismihi Ta’ala

Hamzah
Part 86

I had never felt more like a warrior than the moment I realised my marriage was becoming a war zone.

Theres something about having a raging fire set alight inside you that made you feel like you were literally in the midst of a fire. And for me, it was even more so, because although it took extreme measures to get me to that point, I knew that once I got there, it took a lot for me to calm myself down.

And as I thought of it, the man I’d become during the past few months, the doting husband, the more I realised how much Mohsina had changed me.

I’d never been the kind of guy who was a pushover.

For me, I had always been the one to own it, to lead the pack, to call the shots.

Then I married Mohsina, and everything changed. She was one of a kind, and she preferred to be in charge. I had left that to her… let her take the reins for most decisions, except the adventurous ones, and in some ways, relied on her way too much.

And now, it was time for me to take back the reins. As uncomfortable as it was, it had to be done.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Imraan’s brown eyes were slightly narrowed as I nodded my head, and his frown deepened.

”Like really, absolutely sure?”

His question was posed with a permanent frown and for a minute, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

And then, like a stab wound, I recalled the pain that I had felt the previous night and almost everything became clear again.

The pain was like hole in my gut. Constant and unflinching.

And just like before, that fierce protectiveness that I felt for Zaid had overcome me again.

“I need to do what I know Liyaket would expect from me,” I said bluntly.

”You really think Mohsina doesn’t deserve a proper say in this?” He questioned, is eyebrows raised. “She’s the only mother he knows.”

“The evidence is stacked against her,” I said softly, feeling horrible about considering what I was.

Feeling terrible for having to separate Zaid from her, even if it was for a short while. I just couldn’t stand the thought of Zaid being away from me.

“But didn’t you hear what Zubair said earlier?” Imraan said, frowning. “And I’m sorry bru, but as a mediator here, I can’t let you just throw your marriage away too. If Saaliha was here and she knew what happened, she would say the same. Premature decisions are never wise ones.”

Immense guilt overcame me as I processed the reality.

But Saaliha wasn’t here. She wasn’t here because she had been admitted to hospital last night.

I didn’t realised that she was already 14 weeks. She lost the baby at 14 weeks, and Imraan shouldn’t be here, with me, while I was going through this crap.

He should be there with her, while she was probably grieving the loss of the baby they had waited so long for.

“Bro, I’m so sorry,” I said, meeting his gaze as I watched him shrug nonchalantly. He almost had me fooled. “You should get back to the hospital.”

“No need,” he said firmly, looking tired. “Everything’s already done. She’s resting now, and I’ll fetch her later. You, my man, need to sort out your head. My sincerest advice would be that you don’t give her a Talaaq. Think of what you’re doing. You can do that at any time if you need to, once you’re sure. It’s too early. Let me speak to Zubair properly. Let’s just gather information first and you can make a decision on what to do from there.”

I honestly hadn’t met anyone like him before. He took every test and challenge in his stride. I knew how badly he wanted this baby, and yet, he had surrendered to Allah Ta’alas will, with no questions asked. I wished that I could have that kind of tawakkul.

Although I hated to admit it, he was still talking sense and he was right about my marriage.

I didn’t want to speak to her, and she probably didn’t want to speak to me either. We were pretty messed up as a couple, and more so as parents. We needed proper arbitration and the ayah in the Qur’ān was clear on that.

If you anticipate a split between them, appoint a mediator from his family and another from hers. If they desire reconciliation, Allah will restore harmony between them. Surely Allah is All-Knowing, All-Aware. (Surah An Nisaa) 

I shook my head in disbelief, my mind still on the events of he previous night.

I didn’t expect it. I didn’t even know what hit me until it all became a reality.

The reality that Mohsina had lied to me, over and over again, and never cared to mention to me a most important fact, was a punch in the most painful of places.

And at first I thought it may have been some kind of plot for them to sway me. I had been angry, but more so, confused.

My first reaction to seeing the necklace was absolute shock.

I could feel Mohsina looking at me, her gaze watching my every movement as I turned away from her, pushed the key in our lock and turned it, hearing the catch releasing.

The door opened soundlessly. Mohsina’s voice was the loudest noise in the room.

“Hamzah, it’s not what you think it is.”

I took a deep breath, not realising how much I wanted to yell right then, but holding myself because I hated what was happening to me.

Why him? I wanted to ask her. Out of every man on the planet she could have had a past with, it had to be Faadil.

Now here he was, in the middle of us, causing me to lose control and I knew that there was nothing I could do about it. It was only a matter of time.

I took a step inside, grinding my teeth, pulling the cooler bag along with me as I did, wondering why the day that had passed us seemed so far away.

“I’m so sorry,” Mohsina whispered again, close behind me now, and there was something in her voice that I never heard before.

Regret. Remorse.

Resolve.

“Say something, Hamzah,” she murmured, and i knew that there was nothing I could do to hold back that lion that had been unleashed within me a few seconds ago.

It was raging within, as I spun around in the middle of our living area and faced her tear-stained face.

“You saw him on the day of our Nikah?!”

My voice was cutting, and escalating with every syllable. I didn’t intend for it to be any other way.

Right then, all I could see in her was betrayal, and I hated it.

As she swallowed and looked up at me, the stupid necklace and note in her one hand as she stood there, almost as if she wasn’t sure what to say.

”Tell me the truth, dammit,” I breathed, edging closer to her, even though I felt repulsed by her.

I was overwhelmed by emotions. Frustration and anger and a whole lot more that I didn’t understand …

“Tell me,” I spat, bitterness creeping in as I watched her eyes avert and tear up again. “Was he your back-up plan?! Was he planning to whisk you away with promises of the best kind of life, with a glorious penthouse apartment and that damn Porsche that I could never give you?!”

She was shaking her head as I was speaking, tears falling freely as she did, her hand trembling as she raised it up to cup her mouth.

I’d never seen her cry like that. Actually, I’d never seen her cry before.

Period.

But it did nothing to me. I was unmoved. All I saw was my own pain.

Her greed. Her betrayal. The hurt that she caused. The suffering that our families and Zaid would have to endure because of everything that had happened.

”Tell me I’ve got it wrong,” I begged finally, my hands clenched in front of me, my voice dropping to a whisper as I watched her, her hand over her mouth, eyes wide, eyelashes threaded with tears. “Tell me that he didn’t have anything to do with you. That he was just a guy who was aiming for more than he could get.”

The words hung in the air for three seconds before she dropped her hand, and opened her mouth to speak.

“We were proposed.”

My heart felt like it had dropped fifty feet as she said it. They were proposed?

I literally staggered backward, unable to focus on anything. Breathing was difficult, for those few seconds. I just could not process it.

Yes, I knew there was something, but not that she was going to marry him?! Him?

Red, hot anger rose within me as she came into focus, and I turned toward the bedroom.

”It wasn’t public knowledge,” she said louder, following behind me as I opened my cupboard to pull out a bag.

That hit me even harder.

It meant that it was going on behind the scenes, which was what Faadil lived for. It gave him the opportunity to do whatever else he pleased without getting slack for it. It gave him the chance to be the guy I knew he was all the time, to strategise most conveniently to his own advantage. He had known that we were proposed before that, and that was evidently his intention. He wanted to get back at me because he didn’t take his lousy job offer.

With Faadil, there was always an agenda. Love, for him, whether it existed or not, was never the agenda.

“I broke it off when I quit. I didn’t know he got that chain for me…”

”I don’t care about the damn chain!” I snapped, gaining my composure again as I watched her, and she realised what she had said. “You still saw him. You saw him and who knows what else happened. The day we made Nikah. Was I just some test? Did I mean nothing to you at all?!”

He had bought the chain for her? It was the one I had given her. The exact same, one carat chain that I had given her at our proposal. Almost as if he was trying to replace what we had.

That chain… the stupid material piece of metal… was a symbol of something we had. Whatever it was.

And she had ruined that. Or he had. Whatever.

Screw it. I didn’t care. I tossed half my drawers into an open suitcase and moved to another cupboard.

”Hamzah,” she said, her voice escalating as she watched me shove more clothes and cosmetics into the bag. “What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving,” I said simply, pausing to look her in the eye. “Didn’t you want that all along? Weren’t you waiting for me to go?!”

“Not like this!” She whimpered, her eyes filled with tears, as she focused on me again, edging closer as I backed away. “Hamzah. You mean so much to me.”

My phone was ringing now. Imraan, signalling he was downstairs. I glared at it, and then glared back at her.

“I don’t understand,” Mohsina cried, blinking furiously as she watched me packing. “None of this makes sense. Yes, he came to see me, but I didn’t see him the way you think I did that day. There’s more to this. Hamzah, please. Just listen. I didn’t want you to know that he came because I didn’t think it mattered. You were the one who mattered. It was always you. Please don’t give up on us.”

I wanted to laugh. Ironic, wasn’t it? She was the one who wanted me to give up.

And now I did.

I shook my head at her, sending Imraan a message to say I would be down in five, heading to the bathroom to grab my shaving machine. There was no way I was staying there tonight. Or ever.

“Hamzah, this is all too convenient. The way this happened, after everything that we’ve conquered so far, you can’t let this ruin it. Listen to me. We have hope, right? Did you speak to Rabia recently? She knows Faadil and she-”

“Rabia has nothing to do with this!” I barked, sounding foreign, even to myself.

Mohsina shuddered as I said it, her expression actually a little fearful as she watched me move, as fast as I could, with whatever I could gather.

“And so you keep saying,” she said, glaring at me now, as I felt something shifting in the room. “You take her part every time, despite everything she’s done so far, and despite knowing that she hates me.”

”Stop making this about her,” I said evenly, not wanting to hear any of her excuses. “How she feels about you is irrelevant. You did something wrong. You messed up. And now you’re blaming her. And now, you want hope.”

Hope. She had the audacity to speak about hope now. After taking my heart and butchering it to pieces, she wanted hope.

”I know did something wrong,” she admitted, suddenly sounding desperate. Desperation was a foreign concept to her, and it didn’t suit her. “I’m so sorry, Hamzah. I’ll say it a thousand times if that’s what it takes. I’ll tell you everything. But Rabia… she keeps interfering in our marriage and if you just listen to-“

What marriage?!” I retorted, not able to control my thoughts or words anymore, thinking of how Liyaket left me, and Layyanah left her, and all of this came almost as a done deal. “None of us even wanted this. It came by chance. We barely had time to breathe or mourn. Without even thinking about what I really wanted, I made this decision, hoping it would fix everything, and I never thought it could ever turn out like this.”

“Don’t, Hamzah,” she gasped, her face looking pained and her voice thin, as she grasped my arm. “Don’t say that. You know that’s not true. I wanted this. You can’t take back what you say.”

“I know,” I said with a sigh, realising that I may have gone too far but not bothering to retract a thing, as I shrugged her off. “And you can’t take back what you did. Leave. Me. Alone. I need to go.”

She stepped back, looking visibly stunned at my blunt words. She didn’t put up a fight, because she knew.

She had gone too far. I had said too much.
Hurt her the way she had hurt me.

Things were at a point where we were irreparable.

I didn’t even try looking back at her as I rolled my bag out the door, acceding to her request of having Zaid for the night, and letting her know in as few words as possible that I’d fetch him first thing in the morning.

I knew that I wanted him to be with me, now, more than ever,  and the fact that she had a court case pending and all her lies escalating, was enough leverage against her to win her submission before we even got to a custody battle.

She didn’t even argue when I told her I’ll keep him with us at my parents and she can visit when I’m at work. She didn’t even argue when I told her that she shouldn’t try fighting for custody. She didn’t even say a word, when I told her that we’ll have to speak through our lawyers.

I was broken, yet I couldn’t even feel it. All I could feel was numbness, creeping in, overtaking my every sense.

Still, the next few days were unbearable.

Zubair and Imraan had convinced me that signing the papers formally was enough for now. It would leave Mohsina unsettled and not knowing where she stood. I put my phone off for a few days, knowing that if I entertained her, my heart wouldn’t be able to handle it. I would find myself confused and angry. Upset and frustrated, all over again.

It took every ounce of me to drag myself to work every day, till the weekend.

Zaid was edgy and tearful without Mohsina during the evenings. I wanted to give in, to let her keep him, but the thought of her and Faadil made me sick and I couldn’t take my mind off what had happened when he saw her that day. I couldn’t even think what the situation would be if she was really involved in the fraud. 

If it wasn’t really anything, why would she even see him? And if she saw him then, who knew how many other times she may have seen him?

I couldn’t even process how messed up this situation was.

I wanted to bury myself in my bed for days like I did when our proposal broke off, but Zaid needed me. To put him through that killed me, and I hated Mohsina for what she was doing to him. The fact that she barely fought for him made it clear that she wasn’t concerned.

As long as I knew her, with Mohsina, I knew that I could never know what she was thinking or what went through her head. We avoided each other expertly. She came to see Zaid when I wasn’t there, and made sure I never had to clash with her.

It was two days later when Zubair told me that he confirmed something about Faadil that was a breakthrough. He had gotten enough evidence that Faadil had framed himself at Hammonds. Outed himself for the money that was being taken over the past year. Zubair’s uncle had also played a part in helping him. It was an anonymous tip-off that was traced back to him, and Zubair’s conclusion was that there was a greater reason he did it, and the only thing he could think of was because he wanted Mohsina back in his life.

And of course, that made me sway.

Imraan had gone back home, because Saaliha went to her mother, and I was left to my own delusions, trying to figure out what to do with the information Zubair had provided. Rabia, despite me thinking that she would have tons to say about the situation, said very little. I kept remembering the words Mohsina had said about her. I kept thinking that she would never say something that wasn’t true. But then again, she hadn’t told me she was going to marry an idiot, so I had no idea what else to think about, and no one to talk to about it.

My parents didn’t say much. I didn’t tell them about the chain. It would have hurt them to know that Mohsina’s ex-fiancé had done something to interfere. They were expecting a separation, and the fact that Zaid was now with us didn’t seem to be strange to them either. They accepted it as part of what Mohsina and I decided to ensure his safety and meddled very little in my life.

And so, with Imraan and Saaliha back home, Rabia and my parents tiptoeing around me, all I had was the Qur’ān for company.

And honestly, it was all I needed. When it seemed too much to bear, all I had to do was open the Qur’ān and feel the weight shedding away. And it helped, without me even realising it. It was the only thing that kept me from going completely insane.

And as I sat with Zaid one night, reading Qur’ān to him until he slept, my heart feeling lighter than it had in days, it was a few moments of peaceful relief when my entire life seemed so much clearer.

For the first time since the entire thing happened, I realised that even though things may not be perfect, I’ll be okay. That I could do this. I could picture us, as Zaid grew up, being a decent little guy. I could picture Zaid, with Liyaket’s body build and Layyanah’s eyes, looking up at me and actually admiring me for who I was. I could picture him, in the future, maybe even amicable with each other, not feeling like we had failed him as parents.

I held him tighter as we slept that night, placing his bottle next to us, for the first time since I left, he was calm and contented, as he slept in my arms.

I awoke at the early parts of the next morning, a buzzing next to me, as multiple messages came through. I had blocked Mohsina, but I knew that she wouldn’t message me anyway. She was in contact with my mother about Zaid and I preferred it that way.

I pulled my phone to me as I shifted, seeing Zubair’s name on the screen, and then imraans missed call too.

Zubair: Did you see it? The article

There was one more from a guy at work, who knew that I was married to Mohsina. The next message was from Imraan.

Boss. You signed just in time. Your name is nowhere there.

I opened the messages and finally found the link to the news article they were referring to, feeling my heart beating incessantly, because I knew that this would happen, sooner or later.

It was a business news article on a well-known site, but it spared no details. The article spoke about Faadil as the CFO, the accusations that were pinned against him and what Hammonds is doing to upscale the law suit. I read carefully, pausing at the part where Mohsina’s name appeared, taking a deep breath as I read it

an ex-employee, who seemed to have a connection with the transactions, has been questioned. All allegations were denied. Further investigations prove that there may have been some foul play, and Hammonds is awaiting the trial to go to court before pressing further charges against her.

Crap. It was bad. For her.

Not as bad as it could be, but bad enough for people to do some digging and find out that her so called ex-husband was also an employee at Hammonds. For a few seconds, I felt my heart contract painfully, feeling genuinely horrified for everything she had to go through on her own.  I had tried not to think about feelings, but it was because of how deeply I felt for her, that I hated to see this happening.

I breathed out as I tapped a stirring Zaid off again, shifting off the bed, wondering if I should message her, just to see if she was okay.

I trashed the thought, remembering her betrayal, and moved toward the bathroom instead.

My phone buzzed in my hand, and I glanced at it as I saw Imraans message.

Make Shukar. Allah saved you at the right time. Sawls and I are making duaa that it all comes together again. 

I scoffed and shook my head.

Imraan and Zubair were the only ones who knew about the chain, and yet they still both rooted for us. I didn’t want anyone else to know what pushed me over the edge.

And despite the conflicting feelings that I felt right then, despite the hurt and the confusion of the past week, despite everything that seemed so hopeless right then… the fact that I had been saved from something that could have tarnished my reputation too, was nothing short of a miracle.

Make shukar. Yes, I had lost something, but perhaps all that I lost was the only way I had been saved. He was right.

I just felt like the scum that I was sitting there, unscathed, when my wife was probably broken by the events that were happening in her life.

I made whudhu and sat on the musalla that night, until the light from the sky became visible, because the little relief I felt, was constantly tainted by a sense of loss. I missed Mohsina like a hole in my head.

It was something I hadn’t allowed myself to feel until that night. Whether she felt the same about me, was a wonder.

And I knew that there was probably so much going on in her life, that she barely had time to think of me, but I hated that it had come to this. I hated that there was no way we could be, that would appease us both. That I couldn’t even speak to her, to ask her how she was holding up. I hated that she wanted to cut me off as much as I wanted to cut her off. I hated that I hated her.

I had honestly thought that she’d be grovelling by now. In honesty, right then, it was I who felt like grovelling at her feet, but I knew that there was no way that I could, without remembering the pain that I’d felt just the week before. Without remembering that she wanted me out in the first place.

Besides, we were now the eye of the storm, when everything was hitting the fan in a most stinking way, and I knew that there was no better time to let this be than right now. The good and the bad were now blending into one experience that was drawing me to Allah, and that’s when clarity was never more stark than it was right then.

Suhayb ibn Sinān Ar-Rūmi (may Allah be pleased with him) reported that the Prophet (Sallahu Alaihi wa Sallam)said: “How wonderful the affair of the believer is! Indeed, all of his affairs are good for him. This is for no one but the believer. If something good happens to him, he is grateful to Allah, which is good for him. And if something bad happens to him, he has patience, which is good for him.”

I had somehow found that patience within me. I had always said that I needed something to fight for, something worthy. For me, I knew that Allah Ta’ala was showing me what that could be, through this very unconventional part of my life.

I had to keep fighting, to keep having a cause. To keep having hope. To keep being grateful. To be the best father and believer I could be. Ramadhaan was approaching, and with every day that passed, I could feel my heart aching for it.

All I had was the hope that I had to keep aspiring to be more than I was.

All was not yet lost, I realised, as I drove back from Fajr Salaah that morning, watching the contrasting colours of daybreak, ignoring the messages that were coming in from colleagues and people who knew Mohsina.

Mohsina. Seeing the sky once more only brought her to mind. The darkness had turned to light, and there was only one thing that I could think of, when I saw it.

Hope. Though it ached to think of it, I could still remember me telling her that hope was never a mistake. To return to hope after heartbreak, though… to the beginning… to the start line, was the ultimate act of courage.

Even after the storm, there is always a hope that calmness will reign once again.

Even though everything felt like it was falling apart, like the little light in the sky that peeped out and then spread its wings across the earth, even after the darkest of nights, time was going to heal it all.


Hope. SubhaanAllah.

I know it may not have been the ending we wanted before Ramadhaan but it definitely gives me a little hope. Hope that Allah is always looking out for us. Hope that He is saving us from sin. Hope that everything is always under His watchful gaze, and He would never break us without us needing to turn back to Him for fixing.

May we always turn to our Rabb, through every trial, in every circumstance, through every heartbreak… may it still bring us hope. 

May Allah grant us strength and resolution this Ramadhaan, to be the best Muslims we can be. I’m not sure if I’ll manage another post.. do you guys want one? It may just leave more unanswered questions so rather not.

Please remember this weak and sinful author in your precious Duaas.

Much Love Always,

Witg lots of sabr and shukar this Ramadhaan.

A x

 

Suhayb ibn Sinān Ar-Rūmi (may Allah be pleased with him) reported that the Prophet (may Allah’s peace and blessings be upon him)said: “How wonderful the affair of the believer is! Indeed, all of his affairs are good for him. This is for no one but the believer. If something good happens to him, he is grateful to Allah, which is good for him. And if something bad happens to him, he has patience, which is good for him.”

 

Sunnah of Duaa

Begin your dua first with praising Allah and then by sending peace and blessings upon His messenger ﷺ. Then, make dua for yourself, dunya and akhira, for close family and friends, and then the ummah at large. Finish your Duaa by again sending peace and blessings on the Prophet ﷺ and praising and thanking Allah.

The Prophet (ﷺ) said, “Du’a (supplication) is worship.”

In all situations, let’s bring in the Sunnah of Duaa every single day this Ramadhaan and after.

Sayyiduna Anas Ibn Malik (radiyallahu’anhu) reports that Rasulullah (sallallahu ‘alayhi wa sallam) would recite the following supplication when the Month of Rajab would commence:

اَللّٰهُمَّ  بَارِكْ لَناَ فِيْ رَجَبٍ وَشَعْبانَ وَبَلّغْنَا رَمَضَانْ

Allahumma baarik lana fi Rajaba wa Sha’bana wa balligh-na Ramadan

Translation: Oh Allah! Grant us Barakah (Blessing) during (the months of) Rajab and Sha’ban, and allow us to reach Ramadan.

(Shu’abul-Iman, Hadith: 3534, Ibnu Sunni, Hadith: 660, Mukhtasar Zawaid Bazzar, Hadith: 662, also see Al-Adhkar, Hadith: 549)

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..💕

#RevivetheSunnah

#RevivetheSunnahofbeingGrateful

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

25 thoughts on “From Heartbreak to Hope

  1. Oh man.. As much as we would like another, but perhaps it’s better we don’t cos no way that we’d be left at peace.. Although we’re still heartbroken at the events.. Feel sorry for Saaliha, can only imagine the heartbreak she & Imraan also experiencing..
    My heart is breaking for Mos & Hamza together with lil Zaid, let’s HOPE that they’ll be ok.. & Together as a Family..
    They both do love each other so fiercely.. It’s just a Huge test for them.. Till the next post.. Wish you well for Ramadhaan.. & May you come back with tons of inspiration for how the story will continue with passing down lessons for us too. آمـيـن 💕

    Liked by 5 people

  2. Oh Allah!!!
    Be patient Hamzooooo!!!!

    So…we must make shukr for this hope-filled post and sabr until the next suspense-filled post👅
    Jazakillah Authoress, for this exercise in sabr and shukr💕

    Liked by 5 people

  3. Dear author I am now entering the month of Ramadan with a broken heart 💔 absolutely shattered!! Broken into a million pieces… now You wouldn’t let this poor dedicated reader start her Ramadan on a bad footing would you 🥺🥲i know this month is a cure for broken hearts but another post or 2 might just be the solution 😇

    On another note this was so heartbreakingly emotional…I could feel hamzas betrayal. I feel bad for him. And poor poor sawls😭😭. I want to know where’s rabia in all this. She’s very quite. Hope she’s regretting what she did big time

    Liked by 5 people

  4. 9h my word.
    جزاك الله خيرا dearest author for the long post.
    The emotions in this post😭😭😭💔💔💔
    Poor Mos.. I hope she’s still managing to keep strong
    And Hamza.. what a dagger to him..
    Through all this I really hope there’s still HOPE

    Liked by 4 people

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