Him & His Muslimah

9

Zoya

Little by little, the tears run dry.
You and I'll make history cry.

Years of sadness isn't worth it;
it's all a delusion, without much purpose.

Do not despair in His mercy;
do not abide yourself with the satanic activity.

Your hearts were once torn apart
but His love will heal once kept to guard.

Deserted children giggled, a heartwarming smile on their mouths. Patting one's shoulder and stroking the other's hair, her diamond eyes twinkled with felicity. A child was the most special blessing upon mankind, yet here were these lovable smiles, broken and abandoned.

Willingly, Zoya visited the local masjid, two streets away from her house, to meet these darling children who were neglected and unwanted by their parents.

How did parents have the guts to do that? How could they? Why even give birth if you can't handle it? Zoya remained questioning.

She had discovered the place in her early teenage years, and loved to visit every single Friday. At first, it was a graveyard; swamped in sadness, drowned in pain.

She hated their gazes flooded in despair; the frowns which were supposed to be melodies of giggles. They should've giggled and laughed and loved and jumped around. But the kids here were walking corpses.

First day onwards, she swore to uplift their spirits and flavor their journeys.

She started buying them little playthings which children of today would throw away. At the beginning, everyone was quietly staring at the awkward girl. Soon, the youngsters in the orphanage would eagerly wait for her. They looked at her irritatedly and ignored her when she arrived, but the eyes always remained glued to the clocks: when would the handle tick and when would it be twelve; when would she arrive and speak some more.

Eventually, she won their hearts over.

Normally, she distributed food, toys and minor instruments just to see their smile widen at her; however, today was extra special.

Earlier, Naimat had called and given her the great news about her marrying Ehsan. When Zoya found out, she dropped her flip phone, gushing in overwhelming joy and fell to her bed in madness. She prayed two raka'at to thank Allah for putting this acceptance in their hearts.

So today, not only was she giving out toys, she was also giving away her old clothes.

All the girls crowded Zoya and stood in eager lines.

"Salam, Layl. I got you this." Zoya caressed Layl's cheeks and kissed the girl on the forehead. Layl always had a broad smile on her face, with or without precious things. Zoya handed her the sparkling baby blue dress.

In the moment's ecstasy, Layl's brown eyes widened, and she flashed Zoya the brightest most massive smile ever. The smile struck Zoya straight into the cords of her heart and unintentionally, her lips twisted upwards in joy; the joy was the sweetest one she had ever experienced. She was suddenly the thirteen year old girl again, entering this new orphanage, overly excited to love these little kids.

Zoya's hands were completely empty and the crowd had deadened when she caught sight of Maya leaning against the back entrance of the masjid. Maya wasn't one who really liked to play with the materialistic objects. She had always been very unique. Maya was a very closed off girl, never bothering to speak much. It reminded Zoya of someone she spent her childhood with; someone she admired and someone she missed deeply.