Always. (Islamic Story)

Five

Finally after days of waiting.

To be able to visit a place where they truly say a city that never sleeps. Mekkah, Saudi Arabia.

Yes, with an arabic slang.

"Laila, did you bring your passport",
"Ummi, in this very important occasion how could I possibly forgot to bring my own passport",
"That's good but I may have forgotten mine", Ummi with a straight face facing mine. My eyes widen of surprise. These are among of those moments where you should prominently avoid. In this case, never forget your passport.

"My dear, what were you doing when you decide to pack your things", waleed sulking in a way.
"It's fine. You guys can go without me.",
"What are you talking about Ummi",
"I can catch up another flight with your Akhi.",
"Is Akhi going with us?", confused.
She nodded.

Akhi means brother. Ahmad is my brother. 7 ages gap. Definitely a hero to me when I was 8 but he grew older and it's difficult to be seeing each other again.

"Are you excited, love?", patted waleed on my back.

Waleed's patting were never soft. Men I guess. I'm pretty sure he meant what he's trying to say.

"Of course I am. It's Mekkah", I said raising my shoulders.

"I'm not scared. I'm happy about it",

I look up to him.

"Why?",

"Probably it's because you're lucky to have a chance of going here. Most of other people did not stand a chance",

He's right. Most people would be thinking what to eat rather than finding a fault for it.

I stood up from the seat. Unbuckle the belt and opened the cabinets beneath the seats. Earnestly trying to pull the bags giving out a woosh sound.
Everyone were doing it. It's obviously loud.

Walking towards the Holy place, the Kaabah were a merely painful steps. The pounding beat of my heart out of nervousness. Am I ready for this? Will I try cry and be humble?

I know I'm selfish. Selfish to admit my wrongdoings.

I faced down avoiding the view of the place. The floor tiles were white as pearls. Clean as ever. Without a scent of a smelly foot. MasyaAllah. Incredible.
The crowd were busy. Hushing and reciting the ayah of the Holy Quran. Everything is beautiful in its own way. I gazed upwards looking at the huge black and gold covered cloth. The Kaabah.
Not one word were spoken from me. Just tears running through.

"Ya Allah, forgive me", raising my hand.
"Other than anything in the world. Forgive me for all that I've done",

I have listed many things from my family and friends. All the duas that they have sent for me to deliver. I forgotten everything of it. I was selfish. Selfish for as I'm the sinner, worst than any other person in the world.

//

The next day, I decided to recite a few verses from the Quran. Sitting down facing the masjid.

"Be my wife", a voice spoke in front of me blocking enough the light.

He was a tall dark figure in the night, as he stood looking down at her.

Keeping my voice conversational, I asked him without looking up. "You're actually blocking the light sir",

"Assalamualaikum, sister",
Denying myself, the voice had always sounded familiar.

Mouadh.

My eyes widen. This isn't a dream right?

He scrunched down to face me. His brown eyes were staring at me. So near yet so gentle. Smiling.

"What are you doing here?", I asked. Trying to move away.

"Looking for you", he smiled. His cheeks were red enough but he urges to keep a straight face.

"Why?",

"I would like for you to be my wife",

Tell me he's not serious. Or is he?