You office series# 1
"I love her so much, It physically pains me to imagine a life without her, I feel like I won't survive a single second, without her. I feel I am drowning and only she could save me, But here I am, drowning without her, and she'...
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I place my forehead on the prayer mat after making the dua and just lay on it.
My heart feels full to the brim when I stand in prayer, as if my heart and soul welcome home.
Each ruku, each sajdah brings me closer to an unseen connection which I feel to my god. Every time I lift my hands up for dua, I can't ask anything.
I simply stare at my palms, at the lines of my fate which have already been written years ago then what should I ask to Allah?
So I simply stare at my palms until I feel my eyes tear up because I have nothing to ask from Allah. What kind of a test is this? Everyone has something or the other to ask, but except to ask for good health of my parents, wellness of my friends and family, I have nothing that I want so desperately.
Why don't I want something so desperately?
I just hope Allah sees and hears whatever my heart asks silently.
I get up from the prayer mat and fold it neatly, placing it on its place.
A knock is heard on the room door and my mom enters inside the room with a cup of tea.
"How did you knew I was craving tea?"
She chuckles and places the tray on the coffee table adjacent to the balcony doors. "Mother knows everything."
I smile and sit on the chair opposite to her, taking the tea cup in my hand, my mind reels back to the rainy day two days ago.
"What is it?" My mom asks.
I shake my head, taking a sip. "Nothing."
She moves the curtains aside, letting the bright sunset by the mountains nearby visible from my room, infiltrate its bright light in the room.
"You have such a nice view from your room, why don't you open your curtains often?" My mother sits on the chair opposite to me and looks outside the transparent balcony doors.
"Because I don't like light."
"You are one unique child of mine."
I chuckle and look down at my tea again, looking at my mother who gives me a smile, I say. "She has a daughter."
She raises her eyebrows slightly. "She is married?"
I shake my head. "No, her husband is dead."
"Oh." Mama looks down. "I can't imagine the pain she had to go through. A child and death of husband, that poor girl. Who does she lives with?"
"She lives alone." I reply, taking another sip of the tea. "But she has a nice land lady who takes care of her and her daughter."
"That's nice." Mama smiles. "What are your thoughts on it?"
"On what?"
"Of her daughter." She says leaning back on the chair. "Does that changes your opinion of having interest in her?"
