The Hooded Hijabi

Inside Azan's Head(Bonus Chapter)

Azan's POV:

I look at the twenty one year old girl whose eyes are fixed on somewhere far away from where I am and I feel an urge to bring her back to my world. Her dark brown eyes turn a light shade of brown as sunlight hits them but she doesn't blink.

If one notices enough, there's a slight dimple right above her beauty spot that dents as the right corner of her lips curve upwards. I get to see that usually when she's going through pictures of Ali as she gently caresses the smooth surface of the photographs.

"Amina.", I gently speak to her in an attempt to get her attention. She simply stares off at a distance, a lock of her hair resting on her cheek somewhat obstructing her view.

I tuck the hair behind her ear carefully and speak again,"Amina."

Her eyes slowly avert towards me, her expression as blank as a fresh sheet of paper. "Food's getting cold." She looks at the bowl of egg fried rice in bewilderment as if the bowl had just appeared out of nowhere.

"Ali liked fried rice.", she whispers.

I look at the drop of tear that slowly makes it way from her tear duct down to her lips as it seeps into them. I bend a little forward and hold her hand but she closes her eyes and leans back, resting her head on the chair.

I heave a sigh as a part of me feels exhausted after all the effort that I have been putting into bringing Amina back. It has been months since Ali passed away and I just can't figure out how to help Amina.

Sometimes I feel like giving up, letting her take her time. There are days when I feel like she's getting better. There are times when her smile brightens my day, when she makes an effort to ask me about my work but then she shuts herself away giving me no clue as to how I should deal with the situation. I give her some space but when her 'hibernation' period gets too long I feel like I'm avoiding her on purpose.

I can't help but get frustrated sometimes. I have responsibilities back home, a job and a wife to care of. With all of this going on, I barely get time for myself. For Allah. I don't even remember the last time I meditated. Quick salah, some istighfar on my way to office and ayat-ul-kursi before bed are all I do these days. I feel so incomplete. So tired. So exhausted.

But then I remind myself why I married Amina. She's my way to Allah. She's the one who completed half of my deen. As long as I take care of my wife with the niyyah of pleasing Allah, it might just count as a compensation for my lack of ebadah. Helping others is also a way of worshipping Him, after all.

My phone rings as I gaze at the closed eyes of the woman beside me. I feel the anger within me at the verge of erupting as I hear the words of the caller,"You were supposed to hand in the project details today."

I slam my hand on the table in front of me as I speak in a raised voice,"I know that! I'm coming! Gee!"

Amina's eyes shoot open and she slowly raises her head, facing me. Emotions are still nowhere to be seen on her face but her eyes are focused on me. I feel the anger flush away and I relax my shoulders, speaking calmly into the phone,"I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Email me the design I asked for yesterday."

I put the phone on the table and finish off the remaining rice on my plate, keeping my eyes on my food the whole time. Amina quietly slides her plate towards herself and eats a spoonful of rice.

I leave for work without a word, not sure if I am angry at myself or Amina. I try so hard to remind myself of what she's going through but somehow I lose my mind when I feel like I can't go on.

"Late again?", Ahmad asks me. He and I have been pretty good friends ever since our job interview here at the office. He knows about my hectic routine and therefore, tries to cover up for me when I get late. I nod and continue to walk with him to the conference room.

"Your wife's really lucky. You're one heck of a husband, man. Caring, good-looking, well-established, religious; what more could she ask for?", he says, trying to make me feel better.

But I feel even worse. Every time I hear someone compliment me on my deen or how I fulfil my responsibilities well, I feel suffocated somehow. I'm not perfect. I have my flaws. I fight with my own demons. The only reason I appear better than the majority is because I know how to hide it all well.

Amina is stronger than I am but unlike me, she doesn't divulge herself into hiding her flaws; she embraces them and learns from them. She fights them with her head held high. She may be scared of revealing her emotions but she knows how to tackle her demons. My wife has changed me in ways she doesn't even know and even though people only see how lucky she is to have a man like me in her life but really, it's me who's the lucky one.

Yes, times are hard now; she isn't herself but I'm going to put my faith in Allah and keep trying.

-------------------

"I was on my way home. I...thought I'd stop by.", I say nervously as Amina walks me to the living room. "Here. I got you some chocolates. You..like them..so..", I add as I hand her a bag of her favourite candy bars.

Amina looks from the bag in her hand to my face that's turning crimson because of the smile spreading across her face. It's funny how just a smile can make my heart beat faster. I clear my throat and address her in a dignified manner,"I talked to your mother."

"About?", she asks, her brows arched.

"About rukhsati.", I reply. Her eyes grow large and she gives me puzzled look, saying,"Why? Ali just-..."

"I know. That's exactly why I need you to be by my side. Amina, no matter how much you deny it, you need me. So please, let me be there for you.", I say, almost pleading but it's mostly because I don't want her to reject my offer or things will get difficult for me.

She fixes me with her eyes, pondering over my suggestion and then sighs. "You're right. I need you."

I blink, amazed by her response but then I finally let myself be glad about it. But she surprises me even further as she leans forward and puts her hand on my arm, whispering,"Thank you. And I'm sorry."

"Sorry? But what for?", I ask, mildly astonished.

"I know this is difficult for you. I'm not so easy to deal with at the moment but I'm glad I have you by my side.", she says, looking at a button of my shirt.

I smile as I hear her words and reply,"Did I ever tell you that I asked for you in my prayers?"

She looks up at me with her eyes wide open.

"After running into you a few times, I just...somehow felt that you're the one who's going to help me be a better man, a better Muslim. I knew that you're the one I had been waiting for. So I asked Allah to bless me with you if you're right for me. I prayed for all the obstacles between us to be removed.", I say.

"So yeah, things are hard right now but our time will come in shaa Allah. I have my faith in Him.", I add.

After a brief pause, Amina's lips open and I hear her ask in a barely audible voice,"Did you pray for something else too? Regarding me."

I take a moment to understand her question and then think about all the duas I made for her. Somehow I end up telling about just one,"Umm, I prayed for you to be one of those who are close to Him. So that we both can strive in His Way together."

Amina's hold on my arm loosens and her lips curl as she looks down at my shoes, saying,"So you're the reason my connection with him got stronger. Makes sense now."

"No, you reconnected with Him because He was calling out for you.", I say gently.

She steps forward and raises her fingers up to middle of my shirt as she slips the button into the buttonhole. "It was unbuttoned.", she says and then goes into the kitchen.

<End of Chapter 38>