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When we aren’t yet Ready

Bismihi Ta’ala

Mohsina

Part 121

One thing I realised as I progressed on the journey of motherhood, was that our generation was becoming obsessed with trying to prove that women can do whatever a man can, and therefore, losing their uniqueness. The thing is, women weren’t created to do everything a man can do. Women were created to do all the things that a man can’t.

In a marriage, the lines often get blurred because we’re always trying to get the best deal out when we should be focusing on getting the best of each other out. Whether we are ready or not to face it, some things have to be said out loud.

Marriage is not always beautiful. It can be bloody hard. It’s even ugly, because you see the absolute worst in someone. You see them when they’re mad, sad, being stubborn, when they’re so unlovable that they make you scream. But you also get to see them when they are laughing so hard that tears run down their face, and they cant help but let out those weird gargling noises. You see them at 3am when the world is asleep except you two, and you’re gazing at some random thing that’s so beautiful and heartwarming, or having some random snack with a heart to heart in the middle of the kitchen floor.

You get to see the side of them that no one else does, and its not always pretty. Its snorting while laughing, its the tears when it feels like its all crashing down, its the farting, its the bedhead and bad breath, its the random sing-a-long ans outbursrs, its the anger and the joy. Marriage isn’t a beautiful thing, but it is amazing.

And despite Nani telling me to pull my socks up ages ago when she had been trying to give me the very relevant 411 on parenting, I hadn’t believed her until I lay with Zaid in his co-sleeper cot, watching his cute expressions as I read a book to him that he had recently become attached to, and I realised that I may have been a little hard on Hamzah stepping up. I may have expected a little too much from him. Even after he had left, he still made sure he did everything in his power to help with Zaid, and play his part. I had relied on him too much, and sometimes, didn’t give him the credit he was actually responsible for.

“Mother must be mother,” Nani had drilled into me, one day when I told her Hamzah was making Zaid his food. “Man must bring home money and women must do her work at home. This is the only way that there can be peace.”

And yes, though I would never admit it, she was mostly right. Yes, men can play a part in rearing kids, but when the dynamic gets shifted and things didn’t go the way Allah intended it, there were always problems. It was only now when I found myself doing the work of both of us, providing for our family and seeing to Zaid, that I actually gave Hamzah the credit that was due to him.

As for Hamzah, when he was around, without fail, he was always the one putting Zaid to sleep. His patience and the beauty of his Qur’ān recitation was just what Zaid needed to calm down. Now that Hamzah wasn’t around and Zaid needed some comfort, I’d had to adapt and change, and somehow, Zaid had settled into a new routine.

As for Nani, she had been on my mind recently and I desperately missed her (despite our contact bickering) and wanted to see her, but I was terrified of the kind of reception I would get if I had to break the news to her now when Hamzah wasn’t around.

Also, I knew that Jameela was planning this big do with the families at her gorgeous new place and she planned on inviting us all.

Zubair had gone from zero to hero in Nani’s house because apparently even Nasreen and her in laws knew about this apartment block and it was the best place ever.

My sister had already forced me to answer her call earlier that week, even though I had scoffed at my phone several times as she called, wondering what exactly my sister wanted right then.

She had already babbled off a load of incoherent information and I shook my head as I attempted to understand.

”Wait,” I said to my sister, unable to process what was going on in her brain. “This Saturday? And Nani’s going to be there? What will I even tell her?”

”You don’t have to say anything,” she stated obviously. “Your stomach is obvious enough. Just let things pan out by itself and stop being so emotional. You have to tell Nani at some point…”

I wasn’t ready for all of that. I wanted to hide away and not come out till after the baby was born, but I knew it was ridiculous and impossible. How I had kept this from Nani for so long was beyond madness.

I wasn’t sure if Hamzah would return yet. There were no certainties. The hardest thing to accept was the loss of someone who was once so much a part of your life. I knew that at some stage I’d have to accept that he was gone, but I was still holding onto hope that he was going to find his way back to us.

And as if the answer to my hopes was imminent, my phone buzzed on the dresser, but I ignored it because I had decided to leave my phone aside when I was with Zaid and I was trying my best to fulfill my own promise, but I couldnt resist taking a peep.

Tell me that you heard the good news.

I leaned over slightly and typed two question marks in response. I hated when Maahira did that.

They found him.

I only glanced at phone as it buzzed, and Zaid’s chocolate brown eyes popped open because he had somehow heard the device, obviously thinking that everything that happened on it was for him.

I knew that she was privy to the information because Rabia posted everything on social media before anything else, but it hurt that no one else had told me first.

And despite the hurt, the joy that accompanied the news was unparalleled.

I had sighed in relief because I had been tormenting myself with the idea that Hamzah had been taken to some remote location and tortured brutally before he died.

All this time… I wasn’t sure how to explain my feelings to her. She was too far away, and too busy with work and the extremely romantic Chunks to invest in my problems. I didn’t want her to stress over me. She had an amazing life she was living, and though I knew that she cared, I was pulling away on purpose. Besides, Rabia was being a downright Karen since day one and I wanted her to stop filling me in in her posts, because I just didn’t want to know about her.

“What else did she say?” I asked, edger for any other information despite the source. “I wished that I had heard from one of my in laws at least.”

And I knew that I was being dramatic, because it was only twenty minutes later when a call came thorough from an unknown number, and that’s when my mother-in-law had called to give me the good news that they were sorting out Hamzah’s paperwork and he would soon be back home. I had wanted to know if he was hurt or if he was something had happened to him, but she cut me off and told me to relax, and I already knew that they had probably been given strict instructions from Hamzah to not give me any information that may potentially stress me out. If only he knew how much I had already gone through in the past months while he wasn’t here.

I breathed in as I paced the apartment, trying to ignore the movements in my tummy as I did. It felt like the baby was doing gymnastics in there, and my brain was following suit.

I turned and watched our son, his brown hair flat on his head as he sunk into the little pillow I had bought him for his cot, his eyes heavy as he sucked his thumb more vigorously and kicked his covers off and drifted off once again.

My heart lurched as I processed it all again, not knowing what to expect from Nani or even Hamzah. This whole situation was all so out of my control that I couldn’t actually believe it was happening to me. Was Hamzah going to see Nani? Was he going to come on Saturday? Would he actually arrive in flesh and blood, after being gone for so long.

I didn’t realise how much I missed him.

He had sent me a brief message from his brothers phone a few days back to say he would be home in two days, and now that he had arrived, I wasn’t quite sure what to do.

Salaams. It’s me. I’m messaging from Imraan’s phone because I don’t have any device. I hope that you and Zaid are well.

And that was it. No ‘I love you’ or ‘Missed you’. Simple and straight to the point. It left me more confused than ever.

Did I go there and welcome him, or did I give him space to adjust before I brace him with my gigantic presence? I knew that he would want to see Zaid but I wasn’t quite sure whether he would be too tired to process our presence.

“So do I go demand to see him or not?”

The question was aimed at myself but I said if aloud because I had already dialled Jameela and I wanted someone to tell me what to do.

It’s what I missed about Hamzah right then. Somehow, he just had that hold over me… the ability to take control and coax me into doing stuff, whether it be getting out of bed or getting into my Qur’ān, I missed him so much right then that it physically hurt.

I mean, I knew the value of Qur’ān. Ever since I had heard the news about him, I had trashed Netflix and started on my Qur’ān once again. It was only the Qur’ān that set me straight again.

It was because of the Qur’an, that many miracles came into existence. It was because of Qur’ān that Rasoolullah was able to cope with all of the trauma in his life. And there is no way anyone can claim to have a life worse than his. He experienced mental, emotional, physical and even spiritual trauma throughout his life but never did he utter words of hopelessness.

Because He had the Qur’an. He found the answers he sought in the verses that were revealed from the Heavens. When life became difficult and patience became a test on its own, he was reminded that Allah Ta’ala loves the patient. When poverty struck him and the pangs of hunger struck his blessed stomach, he was reminded of the food in Jannah. When anxiety and panic consumed his life, he was reminded of the sunrise and the better life that is yet to come.

Through all of his trials, he stuck with the Qur’an. The Cure from The Curer. The message of hope, healing and strength from Allah, Himself. Why then, do we lose hope so quickly?

”You need to decide that for yourself, Mos,” she mumured into the phone, and I snapped back to the present. I sighed because I wished that she had just told me what to do. “I also just heard the news and since you called… I wanted to tell you that Zubair spoke to him already. I’m not sure if he will be here Saturday but he did say that he will see Nani before Saturday…”

I wasn’t sure what that she meant but she didn’t give me my answer.

“What does that even mean?” I asked, frustrated that she wasn’t just being a little bit more forceful with me. “Does that mean that Hamzah will just swoop in and save the day?! Am I just supposed to rely on a man who left me alone, pregnant with his child, with another child who is barely able to comprehend how his father could just abandon him, to save me and get me out of a tricky situation?”

I knew I was being crazy and a little extra but it was true.

”Listen Mos,” Jameela said, her voice kind because I knew she loved me but she was probably also a little sick of my drama and hopelessness too. “Hamzah cares about you. I think you should see him alone, not when there are so many people around him, but you need to also bear in mind that the man has probably been through an ordeal. You might not like what you see so just keep an open mind and try not to let it stress you out if things aren’t what you expect them to be…”

And I know we had drifted apart before he left, but I had hoped and prayed that there was goodness in being home.. After all, there is goodness in everything. There can be beauty in getting lost. Sometimes we have to get lost to find each other and sometimes we find each other, only to get lost all over again. We can’t always control it, the thing that’s going to set you adrift. Being here without him made me miss him way too much.

Whether I was ready or not to believe it, sooner or later, I would have to.

And as much as I missed him, I wasn’t sure if I should go see him. Something within my heart was telling me it wasn’t time yet, but about the overwhelming desire to be in his presence was taking control.

I was stressed. About multiple things. I was worrying about Hamzah and Nani and even Rabia, and with everything that was going on, I had forgotten that there was so much else going on in the world because our own lives were so busy. For starters, Ramadhaan was less than a month away and the baby was due just after fasting month. I wasn’t ready and I knew that I wouldn’t be until everything was sorted out. There was a good chance that I was probably going to go into labour really soon with the amount of stress, and I just wished that everything could sort itself out so that I could focus on one thing.

I was trying to declutter my mind and my feelings, to rid myself of all the bad stuff and emotions that I sometimes let overwhelm me when the world around me became a bit much, all at the same tile. It was my aim for Ramadhaan . To open my heart and to focus on building a better state of mind.

And as much as I thought I would give him a day or two to settle in before I made an appearance, I knew that I had to show him I cared about him, so I did the next best thing after Zaid had been fetched by Imraan and Saaliha, because Zaid had somehow caught onto the fact that something was going on at my in-laws house. He was constantly asking for Imraan, who was his new favourite, and kept going to the shoe cupboard to take out a new pair of shoes to wear. And of course, I took it as a sign and quickly baked a new batch of cheesecakes before sending it with them, for any because I knew that Hamzah was due to be coming home.

Zaid had already waddled to his uncle, his voice babbling all sorts of half coherent things as Uthman played with him and Saaliha chatted to me briefly before they headed off again. And as much I wanted to appear nonchalant, I also couldn’t help myself from asking when Hamzah was in planning on coming home.

”Give him some time,” Saaliha said kindly as she picked up her bag to leave, and I knew that she was trying to tell me something without actually saying what she needed to. “Sooner or later, when he is ready, he will snap back.”

I nodded and took the hint, realising that Hamzah was probably not in the best spaces… still settling in, and held my emotions together as they left, knowing that soon things would change, Hamzah would get in contact and life would probably return to normal.

He had been through way too much and I was a lot for him to digest. I knew I had become huge and a little consuming to look at.

And of course I wanted to ask him questions, to ask him about what was wrong, to figure out his plan and when he was coming home to us, but for the meantime, I had to face this test and bear it with patience.

I threw myself into work that week because I knew that once my maternity leave would start, I would fall behind, and I also wanted to make the most of the month that lay ahead. And I was trying to focus on my preparation and get myself ready for it, but my mind was so off track that it was difficult to even do that.

Jameela’s housewarming came sooner than I thought, and of course, I was all stressed out about the outcome, wondering if Hamzah would pitch up at some point, nervous and excited at the same time while Nani came in and took one glance at me, glimpsing my huge stomach that was now very obvious, before she stopped in her tracks, gave me a wide smile and immediately pulled her infamous dupatta over her mouth.

And of course, I was thrown. Her reaction was nothing like I expected. I expected her to grill me or question why I didn’t tell her, but she merely shook her head as she came up to me and threw her arms around me, visibly oozing with happiness as her face broke out in the hugest of teary grins.

”Why didn’t you just tell me that time, Mohsina?” She said, shaking her head at me, but not exactly angry, which was a huge surprise. I wasn’t sure what swoony worlds Hamzah had said to her, but it had definitely worked,

”Hamzah came in the week to tell me,” she said, wiping her eyes, and making me wonder who this emotional woman was and where my real Nani had gone to. “He told me he was worried something was going to go wrong, so he didn’t want anyone to know. I understand. He’s also looking so… different. I could see how much it was worrying him. Had so many things to tell me. Now listen to me Mohsina, you must be careful now, okay? No dancing here and there and everywhere going office and all that. No lifting anything heavy. Don’t let anyone know how far and how much longer. Too much nazr will be bad for the baby.”

And yes, my mind was still boggled by the fact that Nani was so amazing about this all, and even though the outcome was good, I couldn’t help but feel the anger brewing in my chest as I thought about her words.

He had so many things to say. So much to tell her, he had even gone to see her, and yet he couldn’t even send me a single message to let me know that he was well and in a sound state despite me trying to call for him twice that week. His cell number was off and so I had tried the house phone. The once, his mother said he was sleeping, and he would call back, and the second time, Rabia had answered the house phone and I knew that there was a hope in hell that he would get to know I called.

And of course, I was a little shocked at the way Hamzah had swindled Nani as he usually would, but as long as Nani wasn’t screaming the roof down, maybe he felt that all else was cool.

Still, it didn’t appease me. I ended up leaving Jameela’s place early that night, although I was quite obsessed with it already, but I just couldn’t stomach the feelings that had come with Nani’s presence today. It wasn’t her.

It was Hamzah, and his invisible presence, and knowing that I had spent the past seven months carrying his child, and thinking of how he was behaving right then, left a bitter taste in my mouth.

And maybe I hadn’t heard from Hamzah and he was being a recluse, but with Ramadhaan around the corner, I don’t quite realise that Allah was probably giving me the time I needed to prepare myself for this most amazing month. And He knew how much I needed it.

When Allah loves a servant He shows them the emptiness that this Duniyaa can cause you.

Its the narrative they were spilling at Taaleem that week, and I soaked it up as I sat there, going after weeks because I was now quite happy to show my big tummy and Nani was equally excited to show everybody else it too.

Ramadhaan was around the corner. On our doorstep. That beautiful breeze from the heavens could be felt.

“Surely Paradise is decorated the whole year for the Ramadan to come. When the first night of the Ramadan comes, a wind called “Musira” blows from the bottom of the Skies.

The door of Paradise belonging to those who observe fasting

Sahl Ibn Sa’d reports from Hazrat Muhammad (pbuh):

There is a door in Paradise called Rayyan. Only those who observe fasting can enter that door on doomsday, nobody else can enter with them.

Then, a voice is heard ‘Where are the ones who observed fasting in the world?’ They come and enter paradise from that door. When the last one of them enters, the door is closed; nobody else is permitted after that. Whoever enters Paradise from that door never gets thirsty again eternally”(Bukhari)

And with this, with the promise of eternal rewards, and amazing success, comes the realisation that there is nothing more beautiful than the obedience of Allah.

You can have the ‘latest’ of everything. The newest model of phone, car, that new bag, new shoes, those cool people who added you on snapchat. The parties, the dancing, the haram meetups. You could literally be living your “best life” according to some people but inside youre so empty. And that emptiness will never be filled by what this dunya has to offer. Because that dark space in your heart has been filled with all the wrong things.

Chase as much as you want- you may be temporarily distracted but never fully satisfied. That’s why Allah calls this life an illusion. The true believers know that true contentment lies in one sujood and they would gladly give up this “best life” for a better one.

And I was trying to be better. To deal without Hamzah and to maintain the best state of mind. Nani, strangely, was helping with her reminders that I usually found annoying. She made sure I came with her to her Tafsir class and even forced Muhammed Husayn to accompany us to buy some last minute baby stuff.

There were all sorts of emotions that I was dealing with to go with it, because knowing that it was the anniversary of Liy and Layyanah’s death was something that stumped me every time.
As the day passed and I remembered the despair we faced and all the trauma afterward, I was kind of sunken into a slump for a few days afterward. Maybe it was the stress of maybe I was just a little overwhelmed, and I knew that the doctor had warned me about getting anxious and worried, but when I eventually woke up the day before Ramadhaan was due to start with a incessant cramping in my abdomen, I knew that something wasn’t right.

All I could think about was Hamzah and where he was ready for this, and if he would be when it happened.

But none of it mattered. Whether we were ready for it or not… as I felt a trickling down my legs… I could already tell that the baby was coming really soon…

Dear Readers

Please make maaf for the delayed post, I meant to post yesterday. I hope that it’s not too much of a cliffhanger, and although it’s exciting, we hope that much goodness is coming for the couple soon InshaAllah.

Please keep me and my family in your special Duaas, as well as our ummah that is going through great ordeal around the world. Hope everyone is ready to have a most uplifting month! Till after Eid, InshaAllah..

much Love,

A x

Mission Sunnah revival: Boycott sin

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

#RevivetheSunnahofEntertaining guests

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March 3, 2024

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When things Work Out

Bismihi Ta’ala

Jameela

Part 120

“Can I look already?” I asked impatiently as Zubair’s hands covered my eyes and his subtle and familiar scent enveloped me.

”Patience is not your strongest virtue, is it?”

His voice sounded serious but I could hear the humour laced with the words as he pushed me through what felt like a door and then made me sit somewhere nearby on one of the softest couches I’ve had the pleasure of sitting on in a long time.

“Keep your eyes shut,” he demanded as he took a few steps away while I lounged around blindly.

All the couches we had at home were sunken and either too soft or too hard.

This was just right.

“You okay there?”

Zubair’s voice was carrying through the room and I could hear him pulling up some blinds and shuffling around as I tried to feel my way around me. The next couch was a bit firmer and I got up and pressed my hands into it to figure out which part of the house I was in. It seemed like the sitting room.

”I’ll be better if you take out the blindfold,” I stated obviously. “I feel like a blind Goldilocks, feeling up all the couches to figure out which is the best one for me.”

He chuckled and walked toward me, his footsteps obvious on the what-seemed-like-wood floors. This time, he stopped right in front of me and bent down, promptly grasping my hand as he spoke.

”You can open now,” he said quietly, his voice sounding slightly nervous as he did. “I know it’s not the most trendy, but I hope you like it.”

And as my eyes opened and took in the beautifully upholstered couches and classic Persian rug, my heart just kind of did a little skip because it was so enchanting. The curtains were light and flowy with the prettiest and softest colours and the vase of lillies on the coffee table was the icing on the cake.

Zubair had smiled as he finished off with unpacking the last box for the cabinet in the living area, and tossed the empty box toward the door. It was a few odds and ends that I had brought and some things that Zubair had kept from his past life. He had told me that the vase had belonged to his mother, and it looked stunning on the centre table.

”This is gorgeous!” I breathed, my hand flying to my heart as I looked beyond at the amazing interior. Zubair watched me and smiled as I studied the tones of blue and cream that surrounded us, and I wondered if Zubair actually had it in him to make this place how it was or if he had gotten some very serious help from Nusaybah’s friend.

It was exactly like I imagined my own place to be like one day. Simple, but tasteful. The floors were wooden and the rooms were simply done, with just the right amount of cosmetic enhancement to take it to the next level.

The main area was neutrals and olives with a tasteful accent, and the flowers caught my eye again as I walked back into the room.

How could he not have brought the flowers?

My absolute favourite.

“It’s so beautiful, I can just stare at it for hours,” I murmured, taking in the charm that it exuded. I wasn’t really a fancy person, and this was definitely more down Mohsina’s lane, but I loved the prettiness that was on display.

“Ditto. I can stare at you for hours,” Zubair deadpanned, and I blinked at him as he uttered his cliched remark until I saw how seriously he was staring at me, almost as if he was trying to live in that moment and capture it as it was.

“Super smooth,” I said with a raised eyebrow, shaking my head and smiling as I raised my eyes away from his, looking out at the view of the city that was apparent from the window, and my mind obsessing over how spectacular that view was.

Although I was obsessed with nature and farm life, I loved apartments for this sole reason. The stunning views that were always the highlight and sunrises and sunsets always featured somewhere in the mix. Those views are what I lived for, but Zubair was still gazing at me, and I couldn’t help but narrow my eyes at him with a curious expression.

“What’s up?” I said, flicking his nose with my fingers. “Quit the staring.”

”I’m just thinking about how beautiful you would be in Jannah,” he said simply, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at him for real this time. He was becoming a proper charmer. “Where everything is intensified. Like a million times.”

“Really?!” I smiled, shaking my head at him and wondering why this man’s focus was always on the next life.

I mean, I knew that we were supposed to be this way, but how did he do it? He was next level.

“I can’t wait,” he said softly, and I smiled as he continued. I wasn’t sure what it was but something about the way he said it was just so… wistful. Almost earnestly longing.

“I’m also thinking of how amazing it would be because each day would be better than the day before and things will just get better and better, and honestly, I feel a little scared because I don’t know how it could get much better than this…”

I blinked as I watched his expression change, as his hands forked through his beard and he turned his sturdy frame away from me as he looked at where Ammaar was asleep.

”I want to show you something,” he said quietly, his head gesturing towards the door that was behind us and wondering why we were going back out when we just came in. “While he is still asleep.”

The lift moved upwards almost in slow motion after we stepped in, and as I awaited the sight of another part of the apartment, instead, the elevator halted right at the rooftop, catching me slightly unawares. And as the doors slid open, I was kind of stumped for words. I stood almost like a statue, gaping ridiculously at the beauty of the setting ahead that swept me away to somewhere near cloud nine.

Amidst the escaping horizon, were beautiful wooden benches, topped with an array of the most gorgeous potted flowers. Some were already in bloom. The colours mesmerised me, as I stared at Allah’s beauty amidst the gorgeous blue skies. From red anthuriums to yellow daffodils… It wasn’t just a feast for the eyes, but the sight that was spread before me made my heart leap with joy. This man was going to undo me solely my satiating my fetish for flowers.

Like a secret garden, fairy lights, in their twinkly beauty, hung from branches of tiny potted trees. The terraced walls were adorned with a thick layer of delighted creeper, and as my eyes made their way through all the overwhelming amazement, they finally settled on the most beautiful two-seat swing that stood at the corner, overlooking the most spectacular of scenery.

“Welcome to the garden,” Zubair’s low voice cut through my thoughts, with a small smile, as he gestured to a handmade wooden sign just above us that said ‘The Garden’. I was so amused. “There’s a cute story behind this place, but I’m not sure if I should tell it to you now. It’s a little bit heartbreaking.”

I smiled weakly, even though I could barely move, because I was so obsessed right then.

“Did you do all this?” I breathed.

I was in awe. Where did this place end? The entire place seemed endless, and I wasn’t sure who maintained this but it was mind-blowing.

“From the way you are staring at it, I wish I did,” Zubair laughed. “But no. I only help to maintain it, from a few months back. That was the deal Khawlah made. I restore the garden and I can use the place. She wanted it back to how it was originally, when Aadam, her husband first built it and I tried my best. I only had a few pics to go with, and I don’t think I did it justice. Apparently he handcrafted every wooden piece here.”

I walked up to the swing at the edge of the rooftop, admiring in its smooth finishes and amazing workmanship. Around each rope was a variety of roses, tied carefully to create the most eloquent touch, and I could tell that Zubair had done that this morning else they would never have been so fresh.

”Does she still come here?” I asked, sitting on a nearby bench that overlooked the view of the city and not believing that she could leave this a place so beautiful and not want to return.

“It must be painful sometimes,” he said softly, and I understood because to lose someone who loved you so fiercely must be like a punch in the gut. I knew that she had a daughter and Zubair had told me that she had also had a son from her new husband. “She has her own garden where she is now, as you know. I don’t remember too much about Aadam because I was quite young but I know that Nusaybah had always said that he was too good for this world. Anyway, it was all before I went off track and lost the entire plot…”

I glance up at his handsome face, not expecting his expression to be as it was.

It was a look I saw in his face often. Resigned, with an undertone of despair that I couldn’t quite figure out. It let me know where his kind was at. The nightmares would still consume him at times and I knew that he simply couldn’t forget about how much he had done. How far he had gone. What a dark place he had been in.

I knew that he had done some really bad things and I wished that I could relieve him from that pain when he would revisit that place, but every night was a challenge for him, and every night he would cry in his sleep, almost as if he was back there and he couldn’t quite escape it.

”I know I pulled a fast one on you with Ammaar,” he continued quietly, meeting my gaze as he seated himself next to me. “The way that you took him in with no complaints or questions, Jameela, I don’t know if many women could do it. I know it must hurt you to think of what happened in the past. You and your sister seem to have the same kind of heart… taking in kids and making them you own… Its amazing.”

I shrugged because I didn’t know what to say. A gust of wind sashayed through my scarf as we sat, and he immediately moved closer, almost as if he was protecting me.

Ammaar was a part of us now and nothing could change it. Even if he wasn’t Zubair’s blood, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Also, I didnt want to think about Mohsina right then. It made me think of her and Hamzah and what she had told me a few days ago.

I sighed again, focusing on Zubair again as he touched my cheek.

“What are you worried about now?” He asked softly, and I shook my head as he narrowed his eyes at me, and I could see his mind already working, as if trying to conjure up some comfort for me.

I shrugged and squeezed his hand, not wanting to get into the Mohsina fiasco, but Zubair’s mind was already on his own hangups.

“I want you to know that I will never go back to the kind of life I had before this,” he murmured, his hand venturing out to hold mine and the green of his eye more prominent as the light shined straight into them. “That even if I have to risk everything, I would never want to be the kind of man who was so out of control that he didn’t even know if he had fathered a child or not. I wish that I could take it back, I really do. I know that you haven’t asked me, but I tried to find his mother once afterward, because I knew there was a chance. She didn’t want me to know that he existed. I dont’t know if she was forced to keep it a secret or if she was hurt… but I know that I should have tried harder… I don’t deserve anything good, Jameela.”

His breathing was shallow as he shook his head and swallowed, his eyes saying a thousand words, and I couldn’t help but reach for his hand and squeeze it because there was no way that he should ever regret something like this.

“Allah planned it this way for a reason,” I half-whispered to him, shaking my head at him because the way he was retreating into his own head was scaring me a little. “I know that it’s hard to accept what happened… but see how many things fell into place once your life changed. It’s not by chance. Ammaar is a gift and so is this baby of ours. Stop stressing and thinking the worst. I’m not worried about you or your past. You have such an amazing heart, Z. Everything is happening just the way it’s supposed to.”

And I wasn’t exaggerating. Even though Zubair was so worried, I knew for sure that it was because his heart was clean that everything was working out for the best. Even things with his father had fast evolved into something more intimate because Zubair had just opened his heart and accepted that his father had made a mistake without any other questions. He didn’t hang onto old grudges and past issues because he knew that it would be counterproductive to what he wanted from his life. He had, on many occasions, mentioned that his time was limited, maybe more so than others, and the only way that he could live with himself is if he surged on with no hang ups of the past. He had one of the purest hearts that I had come across. The only person he couldn’t seem to forgive was himself, and that was precisely what I was working on.

“So since you’re not worried about me, this means that you haven’t you solved your Nani dilemma yet?” He said obviously, and he was spot on, because he knew that was the only thing that could be on my mind now. Also, he was never wanting to talk about his good qualities in excess and he proved it as he got up and we walked back down, leaving the beautiful garden behind for now.

Once in the apartment, he had already walked toward the kitchen to presumably put the kettle on. Anmaar was still sleeping but he would probably wake up soon and definitely want a cup of tea when he did, just like his father.

“My father said that he will come next week with Nusaybah, so there really isn’t any need to invite him on his own,” he said as he came back into the sitting area. “You just need to decide what to do about your family…””

I knew what he was referring to. I had shoved the problem to the back of my mind because I didn’t want to talk about it. Zubair was really excited about our new place, so much so, that he really wanted everyone to come and have a meal with us. Especially Nani, because I got the feeling that perhaps maybe he wanted to impress her, even if its just a little, despite how she continuously treated my saint of a husband. This apartment was absolutely beautiful and so airy, that I already knew Nani would love it. And though I was so grateful that everything with his father had been resolved and that the kind of heart that Zubair had made it easy for him to forget the past, for me, things weren’t as simple. The problem was that Mohsina was literally in hiding from Nani and my father and there was no way that she would come here if she knew I was having a tea for the entire lot. Mohsina would never come if they were all going to be there, and there was also no way that I could invite Nani and my parents and brother without Mohsina here because it would raise so many questions that I wouldn’t even know how to start answering them.

She had been distraught when she had find out via social media that Hamzah had been arrested for some misunderstanding on the Egyptian border. I couldn’t understand how or why it had happened but I had thought that it was such an extensive measure take n for someone who was only there for humanitarian aid.

I also thought that my sister was going to go into labour right there and then when she heard the news, from the way she was hyperventilating. She had experienced some complications and a little bit of excessive cramping, but for now, the baby was fine. Mohsina was hanging on by a thread, waiting for news, but there wasn’t much that anyone could tell her, even after she put herself under so much of strain when she rushed to her in-laws place with her ridiculously huge stomach and started demanding answers.

I felt like just not inviting anyone, but if Nani had to hear through the grapevine that Zubair’s family had come and I didn’t invite her, I knew that there would be drama. The other issue was explaining who Ammaar was, because no-one could deny the resemblance between him and Zubiar, but that was something that Zubair was fully prepared to handle. He had made it clear that he had a past, and he was adamant that nothing but the truth would do.

“Maybe you should just invite Mohsina separately and say she was busy with work when Nani comes?” He said as he placed down his cup of tea.

I sighed because I didn’t want to think of the drama that would unfold if I had to invite my sister on her own. I’m sure she would probably also be sobbing her heart out because of all the stress she was dealing with after hearing that Hamzah was in in jail for almost a month and no-one could find him. I wasn’t even sure how she was coping but I knew that I needed to call her later to check on her, or at least go and visit. Things weren’t looking up for her at the moment.

“I don’t know,” I responded to Zubairj, totally stressed out about something that was supposed to be so elementary. “This whole thing is just getting me stressed out.”

“Stop. Just relax,” his soothing voice said, and just hearing him say it made me do just that. He was always so calm about my weird problems, probably because his problems were so much more complex. “Everything will work out. Its not a big thing but if you just turn to Allah… make Duaa… I can assure you that you’ll get some solution come to you really soon. You know you have that gift Jameela, when you ask for something. Everything you want, Allah just gives you by your wishful thinking.”

He knelt down and pecked me on the cheek and winked, almost as if he knew exactly what I was thinking. Alhumdulillah, our problems were really meagre in comparsion to the world around us, but sometimes they consumed us. Zubair had already gone to take Ammaar to the bathroom because he had just gotten up, and I smiled as I watched them come out, amazed to see how this man who had once refused to have his own kids was now fulfilling that amazing role with such excellence.

And thats when it struck me. What he had just said, about me and making Duaa, and how Allah surely never turns away the one who asks of him wholeheartedly with sincerity. I mean, there had been so many occasions when Allah had answered my Duaa without me even realizing it. I had swooned over Zubair for so long and wished for him to just notice me, when Allah gave me the purest form of a bond with him. I had yearned for him to chamge his heart and want children, prayed fervently for some kind of resolution when it felt like we were just at loggerheads with each other and Allah sent Ammaar to change the whole dynamic. I had also wished and prayed, so fervently, for some relief and recognition from Nani for Zubair, and Allah had so mercifully sent this beautiful flat which I was usre would be a win in that department.

Nabi (Sallahu Alaihi Wa Sallam) said: “He who turns to Allah alone for help, Allah Taála takes charge of the responsibility of fulfilling his needs and gives him from where he could never imagine and he who makes this world his only worry, Allah Taala leaves him to the world. (he is left to struggle on his own without help form Allah, and he will earn according to his effort.)

I knew that Allah could make the impossible happen , just by virtue of asking for it. I placed my hand on my still flat tummy, sometimes still not believing that there was life inside of it. I could even see Zubair getting excited about the baby as the days went by, and it warmed my heart to see how much he was looking forward to this new journey we would take together. I knew that Duaas that I had made were powerful, and I wasted no time while Zubair went to mosque to feed Ammaar so that I could read my Asr and make some intense Duaa. Ammaar was always occupied with food when it was placed in front of him, and I assumed that it was because it was a novelty, but it had at least given me a good few minutes to sit and make a sincere Duaa for everything that was on my mind. I wished I could be like Zubair, who dealt with things in the moment and never let it bother him after that, but I also knew that there was a beauty in asking from Allah and acknowledging the gifts that He would bestow thereafter.

I wasn’t sure what exactly would unfold, but knowing that Nusaybah was coming down the following weekend and how excited she was about Ammaar, I was also trying to prepare him for my sister-in-laws boisterous personality. Ammaar had been through a lot, and both Zubair and I were super conservative in how we approached everything with him. Though he was good, he had moments where he would shy away and just want to be alone. He also wasn’t too wordy and I knew that Nusaybah’s daughter, who was around the same age, was really chatty. I just didn’t want Ammaar to feel overwhelmed with meeting his fathers family, as amazing as they were.

The next few days whizzed by with unpacking clothes and setting up a small toy area in the living room. We had found some toys in storage that Khawlah had said we could use. It had apparently belonged to her nephews who used to stay here quite often when her husband was still alive. The games were all in good condition and so were some of the toys. There was an amazing car track that looked almost new, that Zubair took pleasure in for Ammaar in no time. I watched as the two played in the main area on that Friday afternoon, my mind on how times change so drastically, that no-one knows exactly what could happen in five or two or even one year from that very moment.

Life was strange and beautiful but ever-changing. It is made up of moments. We may not recognize them at the time, but the decisions we make every day open new doors and send us down the paths that shape our lives. Moments in time. Chance encounters. Decisions. Life-changing diagnoses, or heartbreaking accidents.

Moments. This is what life is made of. The moments are what we carry with us, through our journey. An array of moments that bring you to a place that helps you to understand the world, why you are placed here, and everything that comes with it. A collection of memoirs that you will, someday look back on, and although you’ll never capture that exact feeling of elation that it brought, its inspiration will live on for life.

Like Liyaket and Layyanah once had their life, once upon a time, another family once had lived here, in that very space, and suddenly, something had happened and all their lives had suddenly changed. Right now, we were here, in this moment, but who knew what would be of us and our little unit in another year or so?

I shuddered as I thought of ever losing Zubair, wishing that we could just run far away and live this fairytale life, without any worry of what could happen if we stayed here.

And I was so deep in thought that I didn’t even hear Zubair’s phone ringing or him answering it as Ammaar tried to assemble the last piece of track that was still left. It took me a few minutes before I realised that Zubair was talking seriously to someone on the phone, and another few seconds to process what exactly he was saying.

”Of course I’ll ask him,” he was saying, looking at me as I looked up at him. Somehow, I could tell that this was connected to me, but I wasn’t sure exactly how.

“Your Duaas are really strong, aren’t they?”

I shook my head, signalling that I had no idea what he meant. I was trying to get Ammaar to change for bed and he wasn’t exactly keen on having a bath until the track was complete.

“What do you mean?” I asked, frowning at him as I sat up again and looked at Zubair.

“I think that your problems have just been solved,” he said, a smile creeping onto his face as he placed his phone on the coffee table. “They’ve just found Hamzah.”