TOWARDS DEVOTION

She was not always devoted.
In fact, devotion was the last thing on her mind.
She was born into a Muslim home a home where the Qur'an was recited in the mornings, where her mother called her to prayer, and where her father reminded her that success was not just in this life, but in the Hereafter.
But none of it touched her heart.
As she grew older, the reminders began to feel like noise. She prayed only when forced, fasted only when watched, and wore modesty like a burden instead of an honor. Islam, to her, felt like rules too many rules.
And she hated rules.
By the time she reached her teenage years, she had built a life far from the one her parents had hoped for her.
Her nights were no longer filled with prayer but with loud music, flashing lights, and crowded rooms. She followed friends who lived freely, who spoke about fun as if it were the only purpose of life.
Clubs. Parties. Late nights.
That was the life she chose.
Every time her phone lit up with her mother's calls, she would silence it. Every time her father advised her, she rolled her eyes.
"Let me live my life," she would say.
She believed she was happy.
Free.
Untouchable.
But deep down in the quiet moments after the music faded and the laughter disappeared, there was a strange emptiness she could never explain.
A heaviness in her chest.
A silence in her soul.
She ignored it.
Because facing it meant facing the truth...
That maybe she wasn't as free as she thought.
And maybe just maybe her journey towards devotion had not begun yet...
But Allah was already preparing her heart for it.