When I Found You

Chapter 4

Six months.

Six whole months.

If someone had told her she'd survive that long without home, she would have laughed. But somehow, here she was — still breathing, still thriving, and yet... painfully empty.

Zaynab's graduation was in two days. Just forty-eight hours.
And yet, her parents hadn't said a word.

No "we've booked tickets."
No "we're proud of you."
Not even a passing mention of it.

Amani's convocation was a week later. Her parents had already sent her fabric options for family pictures.

Zaynab? She only had silence.

She sat in the living room of her quiet Kuala Lumpur apartment, staring at nothing. The shadows of sunlight danced lazily on the tiled floor. Her mind was a battlefield of emotions she could no longer name.

The door creaked.

"Oh hello!" Farah's voice cut through the haze as she waved her hand in front of Zaynab's distracted eyes.

"Hey..." Zaynab murmured, blinking slowly.

"Now you're seeing me? I've been standing here since forever. I even called your name twice!"

"I'm sorry, Farah," Zaynab sighed, her voice breaking. "I didn't notice. I'm just... not in a good mood."

Farah sat beside her, concern painting her face. "What's wrong, love?"

Zaynab turned to her, her voice barely a whisper. "It's two days to our convocation. And my parents haven't even mentioned it. Not a call, not a word, nothing. Did I... do something wrong to deserve this?"

"Zaynab, no. Don't say that. Maybe they're just caught up with something important."

"I haven't asked them directly. I just keep waiting... hoping."

Farah held her hands tightly. "Ask them. But for now... today, we're going out. You need a distraction."

Farah ran a warm bubble bath for her while Zaynab moved like someone sleepwalking through her own life. After the bath, she dressed in a soft beige and lavender abaya, did a touch of nude makeup, and spritzed La Yuqawam lightly across her wrists.

She looked beautiful. But she didn't feel it.

They started their city exploration with a stop at KLCC Park, where Ashraf and his friend Nur Ahmad Khmer joined them. They moved from the Islamic Museum to a bustling local market, then ended the day at a quaint candy shop tucked into a quiet street corner. They took goofy selfies, bought matching rings, and laughed harder than they had in weeks.

But when she got home, the emptiness returned like a storm cloud waiting at the door.

She packed up a few items to donate, deciding she'd leave all furniture behind. There was no point carrying reminders of a chapter that now felt incomplete.

Meanwhile... in Abuja
Alhamdulillah.

After six fulfilling months in Malaysia, Al'amin was finally coming home. The project was done. Deals sealed. Goals accomplished. His bags were light — only essentials, documents, and gifts. But his heart was full.

He left for the airport just before dawn. The driver helped load his bags, and by 6:00 a.m., his flight was airborne.

Five hours later, Nigeria's sun welcomed him like an old friend. Bello was waiting with their mum and Khadeejah at the arrival gate.

The moment their eyes met, Al'amin dropped his bags and ran into his mother's arms. Khadeejah wrapped around his waist like a koala.

"Alhamdulillah for safe return!" his mother beamed.

"I missed you all," Al'amin said, his voice thick with emotion.

Bello pulled him into a warm, brotherly hug. "Mr B is back in the building!"

They drove home laughing, but Bello excused himself when he got a sudden call from the office and couldn't stay for the welcome lunch.

When Al'amin reached his apartment, it smelled like lemon polish and memories. The housekeeper had done a perfect job. He showered, wore his soft white jallabiya, and collapsed into bed.

He woke around 4:00 p.m., prayed Asr, then carried a duffel bag filled with gifts to the main house.

"Salaam Alaikum, family!" he called.

"Wa Alaikum Salaam, son!" his mother responded, smiling like she'd just won a lottery.

He handed her a bag — luxurious prayer mats, Arabian oud perfumes, a Hermes handbag, and a Swiss watch. Her eyes misted.

"May Allah keep blessing you. I wish your father were here to witness the man you've become. He'd be proud."

They all whispered, "Amin."

Khadeejah came bounding down the stairs, munching on samosas. Her eyes widened at the gifts.

"Ya Al'amin, you got all this for me?!"

"Yes, all for you — my annoying little princess," he grinned.

Her squeal was loud enough to wake the neighbors.

They all had dinner together, and the house hummed with laughter, soft banter, and love. Yet, in the middle of the laughter, Al'amin's thoughts wandered.

He knew tomorrow was Zaynab's graduation.

He hadn't told anyone.
Not even her.

Graduation Morning, Kuala Lumpur
Zaynab stood in front of the mirror in her graduation gown. Her cap tilted slightly to the left, her hijab perfectly tucked in soft lilac to match the university sash. Her lips quivered. Her eyes burned.

Still no word from home.

She was alone.

Even the flowers delivered this morning were from Farah and Ashraf.

The ceremony was grand — full of cheers, laughter, families holding signs and screaming names. Her name was called. She walked across the stage. Flash. Smile. Receive. Step down.

She smiled, but her heart was breaking.

After the ceremony, she quietly slipped out of the crowd.

Until—

"Zaynab Imran Fawaz!"

She turned.

There — by the university's entrance — was her entire family.

Her father in a cream agbada, her mother in a deep blue lace with gold accents. Her brother Ya Fawaz. Even Amani. And standing just beside the campus fountain—

Al'amin.

Her legs froze. Her breath caught.

"What... how?" she stuttered.

Her mum opened her arms wide. "You didn't think we'd let our jewel graduate alone, did you?"

Zaynab burst into tears and ran into their embrace. She cried and cried, burying her face in her father's chest.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because surprises are sweeter, my angel," her father whispered.

And standing slightly behind, Al'amin gave her a knowing smile.

He mouthed silently: Told you I'd keep my promise.

Zaynab smiled through tears.

This was more than a graduation. This was healing.