*Khan1204, this one is for you, habibti. ❤
As narrated by Meez:
Someone shakes my shoulder gently.
I groan, my eyes opening halfway.
Where am I?!
I rub my tired eyes before opening them fully.
Blinking against the bright light, I sit up and take in my surroundings.
I’m in a Jamaat Khana.
I look up at dad, who’s hovering over me.
Slowly my mind registers… processes…
And then it all comes flooding back.
The crash. Umair. The paramedics.
My heart lurches and hurriedly I get to my feet, ignoring the protests of my stiff limbs.
“Dad!” I say, instantly wide awake. “Umair.”
“He’s okay,” dad says again, placing his hand on my shoulder.
Relief floods through me, so intense that I’m forced to sit down.
“Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah,” I sigh repeatedly.
Happiness seeps through my relief, quickly overpowering it.
I look up at dad, my lips stretching into a smile.
He smiles back at me and in that moment all I can think of is that Allah accepted my duaa.
Allah accepted from me.
Despite my countless sins, He didn’t just listen to me, He answered me.
My heart cries in joy and anguish.
The moment is bitter sweet.
And I don’t want it to ever end.
Despite her niqaab I can see that she’s smiling.
Her eyes are crinkled in the corners and her dark orbs are alight, shining with happiness.
My heart warms and I can’t seem to look away.
But then she turns, our eyes meet for a split, unintentional second and then I’m studying the tiles, realizing that I still haven’t got her name.
“Come on, you can go in, only his father is there,” says Dad, walking up to me.
I look up, then follow him into the ICU.
“Assalaamu Alaykum,” I greet, shaking hands with Umair’s father.
He is a tall, big built man and I instantly feel small and intimidated, quite sure it has something to do with the cane-like walking stick he has in his grasp.
“Wa Alaykum Salaam,” he replies in a deep voice, his grip on my hand strong and firm. “Rameez.”
I hold back a wince, trying to play it cool – which is pretty damn difficult when you’re standing in front of the father of the guy you crashed into, who also happens to be a giant with a walking stick.
“Jee,” I say, looking up briefly. “How are you, uncle?”
“Alhamdulillah, very well,” he replies. “How are you?”
I clear my throat.
“Alhamdulillah,” I reply.
I glance at Umair from the corner if my eye and catch him smirking.
“JazaakAllah for saving this scatterbrained lad,” says Umair’s father, indicating to Umair. “I’ll leave you to him now.”
“That’s okay -”
I stop abruptly.
What? Saving him? I didn’t save him!
“Oh! I.. I didn’t -”
But he’s already gone.
Umair’s laughter fills the room.
“You look more like a “scatterbrained lad” than I do right now,” he says.
What? Oh. OH.
“Jeez, that was scary,” I mutter.
“Stop making me laugh bro, it hurts!” says Umair.
“I’m not making you laugh!” I reply. “You’re laughing at me!”
“Because you were so out of your element,” he laughs.
“I was not!” I say immediately, even though I was. “Besides, how do you even know what’s my element?”
“Oh, you and I have the exact same element, bro,” says Umair.
I shake my head at him, turning serious.
“Dude, you good?” I ask, eyeing him.
“Yeah,” he says, turning serious too.
It’s quiet for a moment.
Then Umair speaks again.
“I didn’t expect us to ever meet again after that day at the mosque, but I’m glad we did. Thanks for saving me,” he says.
Once again I don’t know what to say.
“I didn’t save you,” I say eventually. “I landed you in this mess.”
“It wasn’t your fault. Neither was it mine. It was meant to happen,” he says.
“And I’m glad it did,” he adds quietly a moment later.
Silence settles again.
As I look at him, the same feeling that hit me all those days ago in the Masjid carpark, hits me again.
I know this guy.
He and I, we’re the same.
Together we can accomplish great things.
And I couldn’t be happier that he is okay.
Few weeks later:
“You’re what?!” I ask.
“I’m getting married,” Zee’s grinning voice comes through my phone.
“Hey! Language!” he laughs.
“What kind of prank is this?” I ask, still not believing him.
“I’m serious,” he says, and he does sound serious.
“To who?” I ask after a moment of silence.
He doesn’t say anything.
“Bro, to who?” I ask again.
“Urmm…” he says hesitantly, but I can hear his grin. “Deeyanah.”
“Shut up!” I say, in disbelief.
“Ask her yourself,” says Zee.
“Holy guacamole! I’m coming ’round,” I say, hurrying down the stairs and grabbing the car keys before jumping into the car.
“Check you in 5,” laughs Zee.
It had been a good month.
After the lows preceding it, it had been a damn good month.
In fact, I didn’t think it could get any better than this.
But it does.
Dad walks into my room, trying to hide a smile.
“What?” I ask instantly, smiling too.
“I have some good news,” he says.
I look at him expectantly, my heart drumming.
What he says next, is the last thing I expect to hear.
After Zee’s news to me earlier that day, I didn’t think anything could leave me as surprised – nor as happy.
Everything in life always happen at the best time.
The thing is, we don’t always see the goodness in it.
And on the odd occasion, when we do – when the goodness of something happening at its specified time is apparent to us – it leaves us ecstatic.
In fact, so ecstatic, we even momentarily forget about all the times we wished something hadn’t happened when it did.
If only we could realize that everything happens at the right time, the best time, perfect time.
If only we could look at our lives through a lens of tawakkul and strong Imaan.
If only we could always remember that our destiny has been penned by a Being who’s mercy, love, and compassion is seventy times more than that of a mother to her child.
The heart would know no sorrow, no grief, no despair, for it would be content in every condition, knowing fully well that at that time, for it, that is the best condition.
“What is it?” I ask dad, the suspense making my mind race with possibilities.
“Insha Allah we’ll be leaving for Umrah in 4 days. Get packing!”
Hey. Hi. Hello. Salaam. Bonjour. Salut. Ciao. Ahoj. Bog. Marhaba. Ola. 😀
Gosh, I feel so out of touch writing from Meez’s head! 🙈 This is what happens when you don’t give your characters enough attention. They become difficult! 😭😂 Haha, anyway, hope you’ll enjoyed the post nonetheless! 😆💕
This will be the last post until after Ramadhaan, Insha Allah. Not sure exactly what date I’ll be back so make sure you’re following so that you don’t miss any posts once they start again. I hope you beautiful people all have a spiritually uplifting Ramadhaan and do remember me in your duaas, please! 🌻
Troubled Illusioner. ❤