Ink and Ambition [RE-WRITING AND EDITING]

Little Does He Know.

I know Zayd must be confused. Little does he know what the caller said. Little does he know who the caller is. Little did he know, I was so stupid to think I was finally free from the chains on my body. Finally free from the daily torture in my eyes, telling me to watch him kill innocent people brutally. Finally free from getting cuts on my body each time I prayed.

Little does he know, I question myself, how am I so brave? How had I not burst into tears, fallen on my knees and cried my heart out at the voice of that ruthless creature? Little does he know he's telling me he's back. Little does he know he's telling me he's going to kill me, for sure this time. Little does he know...anything.

I cup my hands, ready to burst into tears, to tell Allah that I'm tired of his voice ringing in my head now. But I made sure not to make a sound. Not to wake Abbu.

This Ishtikara is between me and Allah. Only us. Only He can tell me if I should tell Zayd everything.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

The next day dawned with the first light of Fajr, and I felt an overwhelming sense of calm. That's just how it goes. And I always love every moment of it.

After the prayer, Zayd called me, he suggested we visit an old friend's orphanage that he had often supported. I hesitated, remembering the events of yesterday and the Istikhara from last night, but agreed nonetheless, on Abbu persisting it was okay. He thinks he might want to say something important.

As we arrived at the orphanage, the sight of children running and playing warmed my heart. Their joy was boundless, and I found myself smiling despite the heavy thoughts in my mind. It's as if seeing them calmed my heart.

"Zayd, thank you for bringing me here," I said softly as we watched the children. "It's beautiful."

He nodded, a gentle smile playing on his lips. But he didn't say much, too lost in the giggles and mischievous grins of the kids.

As we spent the morning helping out, a young girl named Amina, clung to my side. She was about ten years old, with bright eyes and a fascinating smile. She reminded me of a simpler time, before all the chaos. Before all the blood splashes. I shake my head, jerking those thoughts away. I needed to forget and focus.

"Noori, will you tell me a story?" she asked, her eyes wide with excitement.

"Of course," I replied, my heart softening. "What kind of story would you like to hear?"

"A happy one! With a princess and a brave knight," she giggled. So cute.

May Allah always bless her innocence.

As I finished a tale of courage and love, I realized how easily my past could overshadow the present. But here, in this moment, I felt the importance of focusing on the good, the pure, and the hopeful.

After we left the orphanage, Zayd suggested we visit a nearby mosque to offer prayers. Didn't he think it was weird and wrong? Us meeting each other as Non-Mahrams?

I pointed it out, and he assured me that it was his Dad's last wish. For him to explore a woman's mind before marrying her. That was endearing and made me feel elegantly touched to hear. He was indeed asking me what I felt here and there. I answered sincerely.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

It was serene and quiet, the perfect place to reflect. As we prayed, I felt a sense of peace and clarity wash over me, as if Allah was gently clearing the dirt off of me.

Later that evening, back home, Abbu seemed to have an unexpected meeting. Zayd brought up the topic of our future again. He spoke about his hopes and dreams for us, his plans to build a life filled with love and purpose. I listened, my heart swelling with gratitude and love for this man who had brought so much light into my life.

He spoke and I listened. That's all I need to love him more? He's unbelievable. He didn't care what happened yesterday. He trusted me enough to know I was not wrong and was ready to be by my side. And his aura around me told me there was something worth having in me. I never knew how much I could love someone until I met him.

"Zayd," I said softly, "There's something I need to tell you..."

But as the words formed on my lips, a sudden realization hit me. The events of the day - the children's laughter, the prayers at the mosque, Zayd's unwavering faith in our future - all pointed towards one clear message. My past, with all its darkness and pain, didn't belong in this new chapter of our lives. Allah has given his answer.

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes briefly. "Never mind," I breathed. "It's nothing serious."

Zayd looked at me with concern, but I managed a reassuring smile. "I just wanted to say how grateful I am to have you in my life. And that I'm looking forward to our journey together."

He smiled, "Me too, Noori. Me too...Wait, what?"

Haye, kyu lete ho humara naam??

"What?"
"Nothing serious, huh?"

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

As the night drew on, I felt a deep sense of peace. Allah had shown me that my past was a chapter I needed to leave behind. And while the scars would always be there. With Zayd by my side and faith in my heart, I was ready to learn to embrace the future. But I can't get all that suffocation out of my mind. So how?