Growing (An Islamic Life) *COMPLETED*

Chapter 47 (Missing Pieces)

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"Where is everything?"

Ali ran his hand through his hand and pulled on it. I stood next to him and held his other hand, reassuring that everything will be OK.

"How can everything be gone?" I asked again.

"I don't know Amina. How the hell am I supposed to know? You're the one who found this frikkin dump. So how am I supposed to know!?" I flinched at his sudden outburst and took a step back, tears threatening to fall. "I'm sorry," he apologised immediately.

I neared him cautiously and wrapped my hands around his waist. Resting my head on his chest, I hugged him tighter. This seemed more than difficult with my baby bump, but it didn't stop me from holding him close. "I'm sorry," I apologised this time. "I'm the one who started this mess."

He cupped my face, bringing his lips close to mine. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Baby, I promise we will find the person behind this OK?" I nodded and we drove straight back to our apartment.

"What now?" I asked huffing as I plunged down on the sofa.

Bringing my laptop, Ali placed a cushion on my lap and the laptop on top of it. "How did you find the clinic?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said you found it online. The clinic. So where did you find it. I'm sure there must be some clue."

"Oh! Well," I took the laptop from him going through my browser history and found the page, "here," I said passing the laptop.

"That's odd. They didn't delete the site. Either they thought it was unnecessary or they simply forgot to. Pass me your phone," Ali said, his eyes still locked on the screen as he scrolled down.

He started dialling some numbers which was already saved on my phone as 'Dr. Bailey' and 'Receptionist Lauren.' The call was on speaker. It didn't connect and immediately responded as switched off.

"It's a dead end Ali. They probably threw away their phones." He ignored me and continued typing numbers after numbers, until one started ringing. My heartbeat escalated and I looked up at Ali, his full attention on my pink iPhone. He brought the phone closer between us and we waited and waited. At each ring, we held our breaths waiting for it to be answered.

The call went to no answer and immediately. Redialling, we waited in anticipation. "Assalamu Alaikum?" I took a deep breath in, in shock, trying to identify who the voice belonged to. "Hello? Is anyone on the line?" she asked.

"Walaikum Salam. May I know whom I'm speaking with?" Ali asked.

"This is Rahmath. Who is this? My mama is not available at the moment, but I will pass on the message," Rahmath said sweetly. She sounded no older than ten years old.

"Well, hello Rahmath. This is-"

"Rahmath! Who are you speaking to?" came a voice from the phone. A slight shuffle was heard with the pressing of the buttons. "Shit!" The call ended after that and Ali immediately called back but the phone was switched off. Moments later, the number was no longer in use.

"Did you recognise the voice? Do you know anyone named Rahmath?"

I shook my head and placed my head against Ali's chest. "I don't know Ali. I feel like we're playing detectives. I don't know who these people are or why they want to hurt me. I really don't."

"In Shaa Allah. Everything will be fine, he said cupping my face, "we will leave this in the hands of Allah, for he knows best. We shall pray to him and ask for forgiveness and protection from any harm. He will protect us and guide us and In Shaa Allah, enlighten us."

"Ameen."

"Ameen," Ali said back.

Forgive me for a short chapter, but I'm having some trouble with the plot of the story. I need to work it out. Sorry for the late update.

@ultimatesparkle Rahmath was the name you mentioned. :) Thank you!

Who do you think is behind this? I would love your guesses and hopefully any suggestions. Salam.

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I'm gonna include my prologue of my other book "Pain". It can be found on my profile. Please read it and if you like it, I would love your support.

Every girl's dream is to have the perfect wedding, the perfect dress, perfect shoes with the perfect makeup. It's a day we fantasise about from our very childhood.

Your parents holding your hand, walking you down the aisle- mostly keeping you from falling in those high heels that you've managed to wear for the day.

Finally seated, all eyes on you while you look down. Everyone congratulating you on how beautiful you look. Everyone blessing you for a brighter future filled with happiness, love and, of course, kids.

When all goes silent, you start to wonder what's going on. You look up through your netted veil, gorgeously and gracefully hanging over your head. You see the person you are to spend your entire life with; the person who will walk you back home holding your hand; the one that will stand by you forever; through infinity and beyond. Your life, your love, your future, and your everything.

He slowly lifts your veil and looks at your beautifully glowing face. You pray under your breath that you look good through his eyes while your heartbeat is escalating by the second. He is seated next to you and you can't put into words how you actually feel. No one can simply explain that feeling of butterflies. You never know exactly until you feel it yourself. Goosebumps starts rising on your skin with every touch.

Marrying the man that you fell in love with, you feel as if you're truly blessed. Although it was an arranged marriage, it felt like it was meant to be; that we were meant to be.

After the ceremony and the celebration, when the guest suddenly fall silent, you know it's time to make your exit: to leave the hall, your past, your parents, and your family. Although they will still be in your life, it was time for you to start your own family; your own future.

You hold onto your parents one last time before you leave, because you know once you leave those doors, you won't only be their daughter anymore; you will be someone's wife; someone else's priority. Afraid to leave you, to let go, your parents join your hands with your husband's, tears shedding from their eyes.

The car starts to move and you can see your parents standing there, slowly their image becomes more and more distant. No matter how far you go, you can still see the pain in their eyes, and although it is filled with love and joy, it was still a form of pain.

Starting my life again married, this was the first pain I experienced.