Blue ✓

♠ ten ♠

"I know right! Can you believe the nerve of her! Blanking me just cos he smiled at her. Who is the one who talked good about her to him?"

"I know man, selfish user."

"Watch how I chat sh*t about her next!"

Aiyla sighed, plopping back on the sofa. She was bored.

Very, very bored.

Ammi was at her evening job, and Suhayl was at the Masjid. It was after Maghrib, so her garden neighbour had already gone.

Now she was left to entertain herself. Usually, Ammi put on a series of lectures and audio books on the CD player for her. But, today she seemed to be in a hurry and forgot.

So, Aiyla – sitting in the front room – had taken to people-watching. Well, people-listening, rather. Considering this new house had a quiet neighbourhood, despite the proximity to so many services, there really wasn't much to entertain her. The most interesting one was the recent one, and she couldn't believe she is lowering herself to derive entertainment from petty secondary school drama.

She sighed and exited the front room, an idea popping into her mind. The CD player was in her room placed on a small side table located in the corner next to the window. The CD case was placed right next to it. Placing the CD in and playing it shouldn't be that hard.

Or so she thought.

She glared at the CD player in her hand. She had managed to snag a random CD from the case and put it in – the right side up after trial and error – and she'd made sure it was plugged in, but the stupid thing was mocking her and not even making a peep. Annoyed, she slammed it, feeling a button slide down. Static noise started.

Oh shoot. Please don't say she broke the thing.

Aiyla blanched, come on! She just needed something to occupy her time, was that too much too much?

The static cleared, and Aiyla brought it up next to her ear. There were some voices speaking before it went quiet.

Was the volume too low? She put it up and kept her ear next to it.

Still nothing.

She was about to throw it down when it started blaring out. She winced, rapidly lowering the volume.

After a while, she recognised the sound. It was Qur'an recitation. She couldn't recognise the reciter, nor the surah. But a soothing voice accompanied the Arabic with English translation.

The reciter was incredibly passionate, voice brimming with emotions. The final Ayat he recited shook her heart. The translation rang in her ears.

'Has the time not come for the believing servant to fear from the remembrance of Allah?'

The tune, the voice, the words – all remained ingrained in her mind until it fell asleep.

After that day, Aiyla found herself sitting by the radio at that time, when they aired a series of different recitation from different Qaris. Each voice had a different feel, depth and emotion to it. She loved them all. The favourite thing being the translation accompanying it.

It brought such a beautiful sense of calmness to her. She never thought she would actively be grateful for losing her sight – she had learnt to accept it somewhat – but hearing the translation within the darkness gave it sort of life she had never experience even when reciting the Qur'an.

She could feel the scorching heat of fire when the Ayats of Jahannam were recited, the scented cool wind of paradise amidst the Ayat of Jannah.

She felt blessed and yearning.

Yearning to learn those beautiful words of Allah and hear her Lord speak to her at all times.

She wanted to carve it into her heart and never forget them. These words from the One who created her.

The tunes were beautiful and catching, and whenever, she'd find herself reciting what she could remember, trying to imitate the tune.

Once, Ammi heard her and stopped to listen. Aiyla knew she was listening because the dishes stopped clattering. She felt slightly self-conscious and trailed off.

"Sweetheart, why did you stop?"

"Ammi! You were listening!" She accused.

"Well," Ammi laughed, bright. "Your recitation is beautiful MaShaAllah. Since when have you been-" she stopped suddenly. The air rapidly saturated with her mother's guilt.

"Ammi?" Aiyla mumbled, feeling the warmth of her mother surround her.

"I'm sorry," her mother's voice was quiet, sad. "I've been leaving you alone all these days, and now you're blossoming without me noticing it."

"It's okay, Ammi. You're busy." She wanted to ask why.

Why was Ammi so busy, still working two jobs when the expenses now should be much less without the added house rent.

"No, it's not. I shouldn't leave you by yourself. I wish-"

"Ammi! Its okay. Really. I have Allah. He is the only one I really need." She cut her mother off, predicting a guilt breakdown that she really didn't want to deal with.

There's been far too many of those already.

"Oh, my darling baby!" He mother hugged her tighter. "I've been neglecting you so... Tell me whatever you need, okay? Ammi will get them for you."

"Uh...okay."

"Tell me why I didn't know my beautiful daughter had an even more beautiful recitation?"

Aiyla felt her cheeks heat up – she'd always been the worst when complimented, her face resembled a tomato – and mumbled, "Well, I was listening to these recitations on the radio, and his voice is beautiful, Ammi! Wallah, you have to listen to it, it makes you shiver head to toe. I swear, there's too much emotions, I can't- and there's translations with it too..." She didn't even realize she'd began to gush and ramble until Ammi chuckled.

"You really love him, don't you?"

"Yes!" her mother burst out laughing. Aiyla blinked before registering her words.

"His voice! Ammi! His voice!"

"Of course, child." She could just see that teasing smile edging at her mother's lips. "Shall I see if I can buy some CDs of him?"

"Will you really, Ammi?"

"Of course." Aiyla ignored the undertone of guilt. "What's his name?"

It had taken Aiyla a few days to hear his name as she always seemed to miss when they announced the name before airing the recitation. But, she'd finally managed.

"Salman al-Utaybi."

a/n: i've put the link to the recitation aiyla was listening to. :)