Those Honey Brown Eyes (A Muslim Love Story).

Chapter : 7 Sudden Meet

(Present time)

Aliya's PoV

After few days

I jolted awake at 3 a.m., heart pounding and my face damp with tears. The pillow beneath me was soaked, a silent witness to the nightmare that had shaken me from sleep. For a few minutes, I kept my eyes closed, breathing deeply, trying to steady the turmoil swirling inside me.

Eventually, I rose, the quiet stillness of the night pressing around me. I performed ablution and offered Tahajjud, seeking refuge in the calm of the prayer. As the first light of dawn crept through the window, I performed the Fajr prayer, kneeling before my Lord, pouring my heart into every whispered supplication.

Then I started to recite the holy Quran. I need peace right now. And reciting the holy Quran helps a lot.
I dreamed of him last night. The cold gaze of his eyes cut my heart into pieces. I wish I knew what wrong I had committed.

After 30 minutes of reciting I close the holy Quran and make dua.

I asked for peace for myself and asked to make it happen what is best for me. I also prayed for the well-being of my parents, my friends and also for him.

I never asked my Almighty to make him mine. Because he hates me. He never was mine and never will be. I just want that may Allah reduce the hatred in his heart he has for me. I wish he got all the things he wanted in life.

As for my future, I leave it in the hands of the Almighty. Whether I want it or not, marriage is a reality I must face someday. While I may never be able to love another as deeply, I will do my best to honor and protect the sacred bond that Allah blesses me with. My only hope is that the person who becomes my life partner is a decent, practicing Muslim who respects me as a woman. That would be enough for me.

I got up from the prayer mat and went to make a coffee and some french toast. When I got back to my room I saw my phone was ringing. It was Rima, my best friend and my only sister-in-law. She got married to my brother 1.5 years ago.

It was an arranged-love marriage. I had been suggesting Rima’s name to my parents for the past three years, hoping she would become my bhabi (sister-in-law). I remember catching my brother staring at her three years ago when I came home for a vacation and invited Rima over for a dawat (feast). That moment encouraged me to play cupid, albeit in a modest way. I was genuinely happy for Rima when she married the man she loved.

Three months ago, she and my brother moved to America, where he’s pursuing his Ph.D. at a prestigious university in California.

She asked, "Liya, how are you? Why are you getting skinnier? You’re eating properly, right?"

I smiled warmly and replied, "You’re exaggerating. The last time I was chubby was about five years ago. I’m fine, really. It’s just that I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately."

I told her the truth. Nightmares had been haunting me, memories that day and  him–his face, cold and distant. In my dreams, he kept repeating, "You disgust me. I don’t want to see your face."

She sighed, "You saw him again, didn’t you? Aliya Emdad, why are you making your life so miserable?"

I pressed my lips into a smile as tears quietly streamed down my face.