𝑴𝒚 𝑶𝒒𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒂𝒏[ "أقحوان]

part 3

I have decided to  not write italic letters anymore unless its important.
Because it become tough for me to maintain it.

Thankyou enjoyyy

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Author pov:

In a quiet village in Bangladesh, under the silver glow of the moon and a sky scattered with stars, Zaynab knelt on her prayer mat, Her hands raised in supplication, her face illuminated by a noor that seemed to radiate from within.

The cool night breeze carried the soft scent of jasmine, brushing against her as if in reverence.

Her fingers moved rhythmically over the prayer beads, her whispers barely audible

, yet they echoed in her heart. "Ya Allah, forgive me, forgive humanity. Grant us mercy, for You are the Most Merciful." Her voice was soft, steady, filled with unwavering trust.

Pausing, she gazed at the vast sky, her eyes reflecting the purity of her soul. "My Lord," she continued,
"guide me when I falter, strengthen me when I am weak. And Ya Allah, bless the one written for me. Make him strong in his faith, a man who will lead me closer to You. Protect him, guide him, and grant him peace."

The weight of her prayers felt light, as though they were carried directly to the heavens---

She ended with a heartfelt plea, "Ya Allah, place Your light in my heart, on my tongue, in my sight, and in my deeds."

Lowering her head to the ground in deep sajda, she felt the closest to Allah, her heart completely surrendered. When she finished,

she neatly folded her mat and removed her khimar and burqa, placing them gently aside.

Lying on her bed, she recited her sleeping dua, her voice soft yet resolute: "Bismika Allahumma amutu wa ahya"—In Your name, O Allah, I live and die.

her tasbeeh was in hand, she whispered, "SubhanAllah, Alhamdulillah, Allahu Akbar," until her eyes grew heavy, her soul resting in serene contentment, wrapped in the warmth of her faith.

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Time skip:

Three hours passed in the stillness of the night, the peaceful silence unbroken. Then, the sound of the Fajr azaan echoed through the air, its call piercing the quiet darkness.

The imam's voice, clear and steady, reached Zaynab's ears like a gentle awakening, a reminder that the world was beginning to stir again.

Slowly, as if answering the call from within her very soul, Zaynab's eyelids fluttered open. Her doe eyes, still heavy with the remnants of sleep, blinked in the soft glow of dawn that began to creep in through the window.