The Nearest Heaven ✔️

Part 38 - The Late Call

Part 38 – The Late Call

'Aishah (May Allah be pleased with her) reported:

When the Prophet (ﷺ) visited any ailing member of his family, he would touch the sick person with his right hand and would supplicate: "Allahumma Rabban-nasi, adhhibil-ba'sa, washfi, Antash-Shafi, la shifa'a illa shifa'uka, shifaan la yughadiru saqaman [O Allah! the Rubb of mankind! Remove this disease and cure (him or her)! You are the Great Curer. There is no cure but through You, which leaves behind no disease]."

~Al-Bukhari and Muslim.

The next morning found Fadiyah awake long before Fajr in the kitchen mixing up several different bowls. She cradled the big baking glass bowl to her body as she held the whisk in the other hand and in an agitated manner beat the batter. Baking was her sense of relief. Her therapy that she needed.

Her mind was a tropical storm of all that had happened with Nazia and Ahmed. Ahmed had managed to recover from his shock, and he had punched Faraaz in the face. Fadiyah noticed it after she had washed her face and hands and prepared for bed. Faraaz's face was a swollen mess and it spiked her anger, but instead of giving into it, she sighed deeply and went to clean it up as much as she could.

Recalling the way his eye had a purple bruise crossing half of his eyelid and his cheek, the way his jaw was swollen on his left side, the way his nose bled once they were resting on the pillow. His lips were cut, but still Faraaz grinned at her cheekily. "You should see the other guy," he laughed weakly.

Fadiyah smiled at him feebly as her heart pounded angrily at the sight of him. "I ..." Fadiyah trailed off unsure how to thank him for defending her. How could she tell him that it wasn't necessary to have smashed Ahmed's cocky and arrogant face for those cruel words that he said?

Tenderly, Fadiyah rubbed the towel wrapped ice pack over his face as she felt the guilt rise up. He was hurt because of her. He looked a mess because he loved her. She was nothing but a curse of pain for those who loved her. Her own nani hated her for causing the death of her beloved nana.

"Basimah?" he called softly. "Tell me what's wrong, love."

She avoided his kind, gentle honey eyes as she continued to rub the ice pack all over his face. "You didn't need to hit Ahmed, Faraaz. Not over me."

He clicked his tongue and curled his fingers over her thigh. "If I am not to fight and defend my wife, who will do it?"

Faraaz held his annoyance in check as he spoke to her. Fadiyah was his life and hell would cool over entirely before he allowed himself to take the back seat and let anyone ill-treat her. He knew that it would take time for her to realise how much she meant to him.

What use would Jannah be without her there beside him?

"I will never let you second-guess my love for you, kitten. You are mine, and you will be assured of that fact by every action of mine. I never, ever, ever want you to doubt what I feel for you."

"Fadiyah?" Faraaz called groggily. He rolled himself into the kitchen where she stood leaning against one of their cupboards. "Why are you up so early?" His question brought her to the present moment where her batter needed to be split into six other bowls.

Lost in her thoughts, she looked down with furrowed eyebrows as she frowned at the batter in her hands. "Oh, I couldn't sleep well," she admitted with a grudging tone. "I was up half of the night thinking about Nazia and Ahmed. They were rude and disrespectful, and it just annoyed me. How can he come into your home and call you names? Where is their manners?"