A walk on thorns

Chapter 44| Salmah Madaki

Sabrina's POV

When I finished praying, I bid Naziya goodbye with the hope of seeing her on Rubina’s birthday. I decided to call MJ before heading home. He seemed surprised that I called earlier than usual, but true to his nature, he arrived on time to pick me up.

We went straight to the gift shop, where we ordered three hundred gift packages to minimize damage and loss. The gifts were divided into two sets: the first hundred were for the class party and were packaged in white customized paper bags. Each contained a teddy bear, a ball, watercolor set, a cartoon-themed mug, a hardcover notebook, and a bar of chocolate.

MJ had already placed an order for the cakes earlier, but he insisted on buying additional ingredients. When I asked why, he casually said he planned to bake another cake as his personal gift for Rubina. We also stopped by the park to check on the progress of the setup. Alhamdulillah, everything seemed to be going as planned.

But my relief didn’t last long.

After Maghrib prayer, MJ dropped me off at home. As I stepped into the house, a heaviness settled over me. I hadn’t expected to find Anisha sitting on the floor in the foyer. She was hugging her legs tightly, her bag and phone lying discarded beside her. Her veil was still on, suggesting she had just returned from somewhere.

She was crying, hysterically. Her shoulders shook as her sobs filled the silent space, and tears streamed down her face like a flood she couldn’t control. My first instinct was to walk past her. This was her pain, her burden, and I wasn’t sure if I could do anything to help.

But then Naziya’s words echoed in my mind: Stand for your sister. Save her no matter what it takes.

This wasn’t about standing up for her; it was about being there for her. Even if she didn’t see it as helpful, even if I didn’t know how to fix it, I couldn’t leave her like this.

I turned back and slowly walked to where she sat. Squatting down beside her, I tried to meet her gaze.

“What’s going on, Anisha?” I asked softly.

She didn’t respond. Her sobs continued, and the silence between us began to feel oppressive. I shifted uncomfortably, unsure if my presence was helping or hurting.

“Can you say something, Anisha? What’s wrong?” I pressed, despite my growing hesitation.

Finally, she spoke, her voice hoarse and tinged with despair. “I have tons of reasons to cry, Sabrina. I just picked one to focus on today.” She shrugged her shoulders as if it didn’t matter.

Her indifference stung more than I expected. “Yeah, I know,” I said quietly, letting out a heavy sigh. “I don’t even know what to say, Anisha.”

She turned to me then, her bloodshot eyes locking onto mine. There was something in her gaze, an anguish so raw I couldn’t decipher it.

“Same here,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Sometimes it feels like Allah has forgotten me. Like He isn’t watching. Like my prayers just hit the roof and fall back down, unanswered. As if...”

“Stop, Anisha!” I interrupted sharply, my voice trembling. “Don’t slander Allah. He is Ar-Rahman, the Most Merciful. He is Al-Adl, the Most Just. He is watching you, and He knows your pain. Sometimes we think Allah isn’t answering our prayers, but the truth is, the answer lies in our own hands. We just need to change our ways. Sometimes, all it takes is one move, one single move, and everything can shift.”

I spoke with all the hope I could muster, praying silently that my words would reach her heart. She stared at me, tears pouring freely from her eyes, nodding as if trying to cling to the lifeline I was offering.