VULNERABLE

CHEESEBALLS AND RECITATIONS

ABIDAT

I woke up with a throbbing headache, the kind that pulsed behind your eyes and made it hard to think clearly. My body felt heavy, weighed down by everything I hadn’t said for so long. I pushed myself up from the bed, blinking away the remnants of sleep, but the ache in my chest was harder to shake. My room was still dark, the faint light of dawn creeping in through the curtains. I glanced at my phone—5:00 a.m. It was too early to be awake, but sleep had long abandoned me.

I sat there for a moment, staring blankly at the wall, replaying the events of last night in my mind. The conversation I had with Armaan, the things I’d told him… it all came rushing back, and with it, the feeling of vulnerability. I hadn’t meant to unload all of that on him, but it happened, and now I wasn’t sure what to do with myself.

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to get up and head to the bathroom. I needed to clear my head. The cold water I splashed on my face stung, but it did the job of shaking me fully awake. As I stood there, staring at my reflection in the mirror, I noticed the puffiness under my eyes from crying, the redness around them. I looked tired, worn out. With another deep breath, I turned away from the mirror and headed back to my room.

I grabbed my hijab from the bedside chair and laid out my prayer mat. Performing wudu felt calming, like I was washing away the heaviness that clung to me. When I began to pray, everything else faded away. In the silence of the early morning, I bowed my head, sinking into the comfort of the sujood, where I let my tears fall again. The cool floor against my forehead grounded me, and I prayed—really prayed—for Allah to guide me, to help me make sense of the chaos in my mind. I prayed for strength, for peace, and for Armaan.

I whispered his name in my duas, asking Allah to protect him, to help him find the peace he deserved, because I knew he was struggling too. I could see it in his eyes last night, the pain he tried to hide, the sadness he masked with his smile. When I finished praying, I sat there for a moment, my arms folded over my chest, trying to still my racing heart. The tears had dried up, but the feeling of release lingered.

I stood up and folded my prayer mat neatly, placing it in its usual spot. My eyes wandered to the bed, and I saw the open bag of cheese balls Armaan had brought for me last night. They were still there, untouched. I walked over to the bag, picked it up, and, for the first time in what felt like forever, I put one in my mouth. The taste hit me immediately—he had added pepper to it, just the way I liked it. A small smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as I chewed slowly.

Armaan’s words echoed in my mind. You're so beautiful, Tahbeer. So beautiful.

It felt strange, but comforting at the same time. I sat down on the edge of my bed, the bag of cheese balls in my lap, and popped another one into my mouth. He had remembered, he had taken the time to make something as simple as a snack exactly the way I liked it. That thought brought warmth to my heart, and for the first time in a while, I allowed myself to just… feel it.

Mama and Ummi were staying over at Aunt Siddiqa’s house, which was probably a good thing. If they had been home last night, they definitely would have heard the small argument Armaan and I had. The last thing I needed was for them to start asking questions.

I trusted him. More than anyone else in my life, I trusted Armaan, and that realization hit me harder than I expected. He was the first person I had opened up to like that. Not even Laila knew the full extent of what I had been going through. And yet, I told him everything. I wanted to tell him everything.

I stood up, the bag of cheese balls still in my hand, and walked to the door. I hesitated for a moment before opening it, peeking into the quiet hallway. I didn’t know what I expected, but the silence only made me more nervous. Slowly, I made my way to his room, stopping in front of his door. I knocked softly.