My Divine being🌹

30.

The morning sun cast a warm glow over Malaak’s family as they busied themselves, preparing to visit Jawaad’s house for lunch. There was a lightness in the air, and laughter filled the kitchen as her mother, Saima, added the finishing touches to the food.

Saima beamed at her son, Buraak, as he helped set the plates. "You know, it's such a blessing to be together like this," she said, her smile softening.

Buraak grinned back. "It’s about time Jawaad saw how much we treasure Malaak. I bet he'll love this lunch."

Ariz, Malaak’s father, chuckled as he gathered the bags. "We’ve certainly prepared enough to feed an army. Let’s not keep him waiting!"

They loaded the food into the car, the family’s excitement building as they settled in for the drive. But as they neared Jawaad’s house, Saima’s smile faded, replaced by a quiet unease. Her fingers twisted in her lap as her heartbeat quickened with a strange sense of foreboding. She kept her worries to herself, instead silently praying for her daughter’s well-being.

Ariz glanced at her, noticing the tension. "Saima, are you alright?" he asked, his tone gentle.

She managed a weak smile. "Just... nervous, I suppose. I hope everything’s okay."

They parked outside Jawaad’s house and walked up to the door, their lighthearted chatter pausing as they knocked. The silence that followed felt strange, out of place. Ariz knocked again, his brow furrowing when there was no response.

Buraak’s voice was tinged with concern as he murmured, “Should I try calling them?”

Ariz nodded, and Buraak quickly pulled out his phone, dialing first his sister's number. It rang and rang, but there was no answer. Frowning, he tried Jawaad’s phone, but it went straight to voicemail.

Just then, a neighbor stepped out, sensing the family’s distress. "Are you looking for Malaak and Jawaad?" she asked.

Saima turned to her, hope flickering in her eyes. "Yes, we are. Have you seen them?"

The neighbor nodded, her expression turning cautious. "I saw them leave very early this morning. They didn’t say where they were going, but they seemed to be in a hurry."

A sinking feeling settled over the family as they exchanged worried glances.

__________

As Hammad stepped out of his hotel and made his way toward Masjid al-Haram, a mix of anticipation and longing swelled within him. The pain he had carried in his heart felt both heavier and lighter here, as if this holy city had absorbed some of his burdens yet asked him to feel them fully before he could let them go. Each step he took toward the Haram felt weighted with purpose, with centuries of prayers and hopes stitched into the very ground he walked on.

When the grand mosque finally came into view, his breath caught. The white marble pathways stretched out before him, drawing him closer to the peace. The murmurs of worshippers filled the air around him, a hum that felt almost like music, soothing yet intense. And then, there it was — the Ka'bah, rising before him like a magnificent, eternal presence, wrapped in the sacred black cloth that shimmered softly under the sun.

Hammad felt his legs weaken, almost as if the weight of his sorrows and the awe of the moment were too much to bear. Tears welled up in his eyes as he took in the sight, the reality of it sinking into him in waves. It was overwhelming, more powerful than he could have imagined. The Ka'bah stood there, timeless and steadfast, as if it could hold the weight of every prayer, every sigh, every broken heart.

Without even realizing it, he felt his body tremble, his chest tightening as the floodgates of his emotions opened. His knees felt weak, and he sank to the ground, letting the tears flow freely. The ache, the pain, the sorrow that he had bottled up for so long, came pouring out. His shoulders shook as he wept, his heart laid bare in front of his Lord. He was no longer holding back. There was no need to, not here.