I knew I did the right thing. I liked him but my fear for Allah was greater. Allah knew. My parents knew. Several close ones knew. But he did not. It was easier speaking to anyone for necessary reasons, but every time I wanted to ask a question and speak to him, my stomach hurt, my heart beat fast and found it hard to. I had to review everything in my head several times before saying it.
I wanted to hold back be it looking or speaking. I wanted to conceal the feeling inside me and did not want to articulate it so as not to fall into that which is prohibited. I was being patient in my obedience to Allah and keep away from disobedience to Allah, despite the pain in my heart due to this feeling.
"Verily, he who fears Allah and is patient, then surely Allah makes not the reward of the doers good to be lost." [Al-Qur'an 12:90]
"But as for him who feared the standing before his Lord, and restrained himself from impure evil desires and lusts. Verily, Paradise will be his abode." [Al-Qur'an 79:40]
Every time I made dua to Allah, I saw more of him. My mother and I even did Istikhara and had a comfortable feeling numerous times.
But several days later, I receive a text saying: “Wardah, I don’t know how to say this, but you know who must not be named, is getting married”
I remained frozen like a statue. A sharp pain hit my heart. Emotions of confusion, tears, lack of focus for several months were circling around my head. What about those looks? Smiles? Was I being fooled?.
I wanted to scream out so loud ‘YA ALLAH, YA JABBAR’ but even my voice did not come out as if i didn't have a larynx. I looked at the mirror, my eyes were red and burning like lava coming out a volcano. Tears were rushing down uncontrollably down my cheeks like a waterfall.
Questions were targeting each other like a paint balling game.
Did you not understand how much I cared for you? Did you ever ask yourself, why is she doing this?
I tried to adapt the quote of one of the sahabi, Umar ibn Al Khattab radiAllaahu ‘anhu stated in Taareekh At-Tabaree, 4/409:
"I wish you knew what I have in my heart for you, but there is no way for you to know except by my actions."
To be continued...
From the chapter ‘Broken Heart’ from The Reflection of The Past by Hafsa-Waseela, released in Autumn 2015 beidnillah.
“Goodnight Mama!” I sang. “Goodnight Wardah. Please don’t forget to read Ayat-ul Kursi before going to sleep,” Mum replied while still walking. She sounded uptight, like she was on alert. “Okay Mum,” I said. But she had walked past. I called after her. “Jazakallah khair for reminding me!” I’d had a tiring day at school.
I prayed my Salah and went to bed early. Closing my eyes, I fell instantly into a deep sleep. Strangely, I found myself waking up to the scent of barbecued meat. I looked outside my window and saw the sky filled with grey and black smoke. Below, blazing fire was everywhere. Buildings collapsing. Women screaming. Children crying. Families running barefoot. A flood of blood. A stench. I withdrew.
Where am I? Am I dreaming or in reality? What is going on? Questions swam in my mind like fish in the sea. From behind, I felt a pair of hands rest on my shoulders. Hot. Large. My heart beat fast. I squeezed my eyes tight and, aloud, repeated my shahadah. Laa illaha il Allah, Muhammadur rasool Allah.
A saddened voice that I recognised whispered, “Don’t worry Wardah, it’s only me. Baba.” My heart sank. I felt as though a gust of wind blew me away, somehow giving my myocardium an energy supply to function my heart. I turned round, slowly so his hands could remain, and I gazed into his eyes.
They were red like cherries – a connotation of anger, pain, and sadness. Tears rolled down his cheeks and into his beard at the slow speed of a millipede running from poison. His lysosymes were working hard. His nose was running. He weighed heavier on my shoulders. My trembling fingers reached for my hijab and wiped his tears and nose. His face was so hot that a pancake would have been cooked already. He gave me a weak smile.
He said, “Jazakallah khair, my dearest daughter. I thought I would have lost you. We have been bombed yet again.” He then gave me a tight, warm hug – so hard that I nearly choked.
I squeezed my eyes shut again and forgot where I was. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” I screamed.
Drops of sweat fell down my face and neck. “What’s wrong, Wardah?” Mum ran rushing into my room, her eyes wide open.