Until I Met You ✔️.

~٧~

AMAN.
Algiers, Algeria.

It's the last ten days of Ramadan, and Tahajjud has started, Alhamdulilah. This Ramadan has gone by so fast, though it hasn't come to an end. I'm already missing it. Aamir and Nasreen have agreed to get married, and their engagement is a week after Eid, insha'Allah. I'm so excited; I can't believe Aamir is getting married.

I walked into the mosque today with a profound purpose and a good feeling. Just as I bend down to remove my shoes, someone yells, "Look out, Aman!" but it's too late as the shelf and the people holding onto it appear out of nowhere and hit me square on the head.

Ya Allah, I think I might have a concussion. I pick up my bag and stand up, carefully holding onto the wall. "Are you alright?" Someone asks, and I look up to see that it's Naeem. Just hit me in the head again, please.

Please tell me he didn't witness what just happened. "I tried warning you, but I was too late. Are you fine? Do you need ice? Should I call Aamir to pick you up?" He is concerned. "I'm fine Alhamdulillah, thanks for asking, though. Asalamu alaikum." I said, walking away as fast as my legs could take me.

"I don't think you're fine; maybe I should call Aamir," he says, bringing out his phone. "No, please don't; really, I'm fine," I say, smiling a bit to prove my point, though I feel a headache coming on. Ya Allah, please let Zara be around. I pray.

"Ok, then, stay safe," he says, and I nod. Thank Allah, he finally left. I rush to the women's section, and, Alhamdulilah, Zara is there. "Oh my Allah, Aman, what happened to your head?" She yells, typical dramatic Zara.

"Long story," I sigh. "Just help me sit, please," I say, holding my head. "You have always been so clumsy; your forehead looks purple," she exclaims, examining my forehead. "Stop being dramatic, Zara; I'm fine; I just need to sit down for a bit." I argue.

She mutters something under her breath and walks away. A small boy comes running towards me, holding something.

"Yes, Habibi, what do you need help with?" I ask, trying my best to smile. "I was sent to give you this," he says, handing me a bottle of iced water. "He says to tell you he couldn't find any ice, but this would do," he says, helping me hold it onto my forehead.

"That's so nice of you. Thank you. Tell whoever gave you the bottle that I'm really grateful. Now go read your Qur'an. The competition is tomorrow." I smile, and he turns and runs out the door.

I put the bottle over my forehead and winced a little. Maybe I do need to call Aamir to go get my head checked. Well, I ended up deciding not to call him, but apparently someone did, and I'm currently on my way home from the hospital.

With Aamir complaining nonstop, I rest my head on the window and allow him to rat my ears off. I have a strong feeling Naeem called him, but I don't want to jump to conclusions. "Who told you I had hit my head?" I ask.

"None of your business, Aman. The person was a well-wisher who had the right to be concerned after seeing what your forehead looks like," he scolds, taking a left turn. "Do you know it could have been worse?" He yells, and I discreetly roll my eyes.

"But I'm fine," I whine. "That's it; you're not allowed to come to the mosque unless you're coming for tahajjud, ok?" He decides, "But Aamir..." I start to argue. "Don't you dare finish that sentence," he warns, turning to look at me as he parks the car in front of the house.

I huff silently and grab my things before exiting the car. What a brother I have. Naeem better not cross paths with me ever again after what he'd just caused. I walk into the house and remove my shoes.

"Salam," I yell, "baba, Aamir is being mean again." I pout when I see him coming down the stairs. "Aman, what happened to you?" He exclaimed, rushing to see my forehead. So much for wanting to have him by my side.

Salam!!!
Poor Aman. Who's loving were things are heading though the progress is a bit slow?
Well, see you when I see you insha'Allah🤍.
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