The Tangled Love

𝟗. 𝐀 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟.

The Moon glimpsed a girl shedding tears, her voice barely a whisper as she pleaded with God for mercy. Her hair was wrapped in a white hijab, and her long lashes were heavy with tears. Her gray eyes reflected deep pain, and it was as if her soul had long since departed.

Her hands were raised towards the sky, her legs crossed as she sat on a beautifully designed prayer mat. The intricate blue and gold threads that adorned the mat added a touch of beauty to the somber scene.

❝Ya Rahman,❞ she cried out, her voice trembling with emotion. ❝I come to You seeking mercy. Grant my soul peace, for I have reached a path devoid of light. My faith in You is all I have left. Oh God, my tears bear witness to the pain buried deep within me. I have nowhere else to turn. Hold me, Ya Allah! I need You eternally. My faith remains firm in Your promise that You never forsake anyone.❞ Fayra poured her heart out, desperately searching for any glimmer of hope in the darkest hour of her life.

She was unaware that someone stood at the door, silently witnessing her turmoil, her tears, and all her pain. Fayra was so absorbed in her grief that she felt as if her soul might leave her body at any moment. There was no stability, no courage left in her, and the world had cruelly abandoned this fragile soul to face her agony alone.

The onlooker was stunned to see such a beautiful girl crying out to her Lord, pleading for His mercy. It was clear that this fragile soul had endured immense trauma and heartbreak for far too long. Her tears seemed unstoppable, and the agony in her gray eyes, the trembling hands raised in prayer, spoke volumes.

There was something profoundly beautiful about witnessing someone enduring so much, yet finding solace on the prayer mat, asking for her Lord's mercy with unwavering faith that He would soon bring light to her darkness.

The woman at the door was indeed taken aback.

❝Every darkness has a light, just as the night's darkness awaits the Moon each evening. And you, my child, dua is a weapon for a believer. Your tears are counted, and your prayers will be answered. Hold onto hope, for hope is the way out, my child,❞ the woman said softly, her voice breaking through Fayra's sorrow.

Startled, Fayra looked up, her tear-filled eyes meeting a pair of kind eyes framed by a hijab. The woman's smile was gentle, and for a moment, Fayra thought she bore a striking resemblance to Musa.

❝And what if our hope is shattered before us?❞ Fayra asked in a daze, her tears falling without her control. The woman smiled and gestured for Fayra to sit beside her on the bed.

Fayra took slow, hesitant steps, feeling unfamiliar emotions stir within her heart. For some reason, her heart felt lighter, as if this woman exuded a motherly aura. Fayra could sense her kindness and modesty, and the woman's presence seemed to radiate warmth and positivity.

As Fayra sat on the bed, the softness of the mattress was a welcome comfort. The woman gently patted Fayra's head, offering the affection and care that Fayra had longed for from her parents. The void within her seemed to fill just from the woman's simple touch, and Fayra's hiccups didn't go unnoticed.

Without hesitation, the woman enveloped Fayra in a bear hug, allowing her to cry her heart out. In that moment, Fayra felt as if God had sent an angel to comfort her. She clung tightly to the woman, sobbing as if she could cry forever.

❝A believer never loses hope, nor lets others' hope crumble. They lead themselves down the path of sabr,❞ the woman whispered, wiping Fayra's tears and caressing her cheeks to calm her.

❝Sabr?❞ Fayra asked, listening intently to the woman's words, which seemed to bring a harmonious calm to her soul. She longed to talk to this kind and generous woman more.

❝Yes, sabr. Sabr is when your eyes shed helpless tears, your heart cries out in pain, but your lips do not complain to the Almighty, my beautiful daughter,❞ the woman responded with a smile.

Each word brought a sense of peace to Fayra's ears, and her lips curved into an adorable smile at the mention of the word "daughter." The longing for love had left her so starved that she felt she would give anything for this woman to call her daughter again.

❝Da-daughter?❞ Fayra stammered, just to make sure she had heard correctly. Her heart already knew the answer, but she needed to hear it again.

❝Yes, you are my daughter because I have none. I'm Zubaida, Musa and Altamash's grandmother. You can call me dadi as well,❞ the woman revealed. Fayra nodded, happiness filling her heart for the first time. Tears of joy mingled with the sadness in her gray eyes, eyes that had never known true happiness.

❝Jazakallahu khairan, dadi. I-I'm Fayra,❞ whispered Fayra through her tears, holding the old woman's hands with affection. Dadi Zubaida kissed her forehead, wiping away her tears.

❝Wa Antum fa jazakallahu khairan, Fayra. You truly are a gift from God to your parents, just like your name implies,❞ Dadi Zubaida murmured with a smile. Fayra's smile faltered at the mention of her parents, who had never cared for her. Where were they? She had no idea how she had even ended up married to this monster.

❝I was never treated like one, dadi,❞ Fayra whispered in pain, forcing a broken smile. Her mind was clouded with thoughts, her life a puzzle with too many missing pieces. She needed answers, but her questions seemed to hold no value to anyone.

Her heart prayed for nothing but for her soul to depart from her body. She knew she was no good in this world, yet she still hoped that the Lord would untangle the mess her life had become.

She yearned for love, like any other person. But would her prayers be granted? Would Fayra Hassan Khan ever experience the love she so desperately craved?

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