Br[ok]en

March 21, 2018 The Muse Drop 5 Comments

•Br[ok]en•

•Halima Bint Ahmed•

•Prologue•

I stared at myself in the mirror and cursed the disgusting creature that stared back at me. The huge rolls that tumbled from my bruised torso were enough to make me gag. I grabbed my stomach and twisted it with such fervour that a sound of agony escaped my trembling lips. I hated myself. I hated every single bit, and there was a lot to hate.

Slowly, I undressed as my eyes bore holes into my reflection. The more flesh that was revealed, the more hatred I felt towards myself. 

Dark bruises encircled my large waist, dressing my body in an even uglier costume. I knew that it was my own fault, my own self hatred that led me to self harm. I was disgusted by myself, disgusted by the hideous face and far too large body. I was utterly and completely revolting.

I glared at the face staring back at me. My nerdy glasses covered my eyes, making them look small and beady. On the contrary, I actually had large, dark blue eyes. It was the one feature that I didn’t completely hate. My limp, dark brown hair fell in a stringy mess around my shoulders, looking lifeless. To make matters worse, there was a large pimple sprouting on my chin, making me look uglier than usual. I touched it gingerly and winced. This was going to be a bad one. 

A morose sigh left my chapped lips. I needed an escape. I needed to get away from the stain of hideousness that tainted my entire being. I didn’t want to live this way anymore. I couldn’t live with the stigma that my outer appearance automatically reflected. 

Hot tears burned down my cheeks. I needed some fresh air. Quickly, I redressed and ran towards my car, my mind in a jumble of thoughts. I gasped for air and flung open the car door. I knew I was being reckless and frankly, I didn’t care. 

“Maybe meeting up in an accident wouldn’t be the worst idea,” I mused silently. 

A humourous laugh left my throat, sounding more like a sick gurgle. 

Switching on the ignition, I sighed. Then, without another thought, I reversed the car before driving off at breakneck speed.

My thoughts haunted me, relentlessly teasing me. The tears came down in torrents, blinding the road in front of me. But I didn’t care. I just didn’t care.

Why did I have to be created this way? Why couldn’t I get everything I wanted? There were so many young girls that always had exactly what they wanted. They were beautiful, they were perfect. Why couldn’t I be the kind of girl that others envied? Why? Why did everyone always make fun of me? Why couldn’t they understand that I too, am a mere mortal? That I am just a human, much like them? Why did their evil laughs and teasing tones hurt me so much? Why couldn’t I just ignore them? Why couldn’t I just accept myself? Why couldn’t society accept me for who I truly was? Why couldn’t society’s expectations crumble to the ground, along with my self hatred? Why? Why? Why?

Here I was - an imperfect, disgusting creature. I was nothing - absolutely nothing. No one ever looked at me and smiled. No one ever wanted what I had. I was repulsive, sickening.

I could feel the clutches of depression grasp my heart, pulling me towards the overpowering pool of darkness.

Who would ever want me? Who would want to love me? Surely, I was the type of person that only a mother could love. They told me that before. They told me that only my mother could love me. But I wondered if that was even true. After everything that I knew, I doubted that my own mother loved me. She couldn’t. She probably didn’t want to. I was nothing more than a worthless burden. But how could I stop being a burden? No man would want to marry me. I would have to make it myself in this cruel world. I would have to-

I snapped out of my thoughts as the headlights of an oncoming car blinded me. I recklessly swerved to the left and another car honked loudly at me. I felt that I was losing control. The steering twirled in my hands as I tried to grasp it back into control. I saw another set of lights heading straight to me. I couldn’t regain control. It was a lost cause. But I needed to try.

Before I could think of anything else, I heard the loud crash and I felt the impact. It all seemed to be happening in slow motion. The crunch of the metal along with the searing pain that entered my right leg made me realize what was happening.

I let out a bloodcurdling scream before everything went black.

•Chapter 1•

“Mega Mariam!” Arifa Adam, the most envied girl in school, screamed before bursting into giggles as I entered the school grounds. “Run girl, run!”

I kept my eyes lowered and refused to raise my gaze to the light snickers that were meant for me.  Tears threatened to stream down my face as I hurriedly made my way towards the class. I hated the unwanted attention I almost always got.

As the tears blurred my vision, I impatiently wiped my eyes, hoping no one would see me crying. I was already the laughing stock of the school. The other students were cruel, they lived for my embarrassment. I couldn’t wait to finish school and move on to a fresh start. 

I could hear Arifa’s loud blabber as I walked through the halls. I envied that girl, everyone did. She had everything in life. She was beautiful, loved, and her parents were well off. There wasn’t anything that she lacked, except kindness.

I got to the class just as the bell rang. In seconds, people were milling about, trying to get to their seats.

“Mega Mariam!” Riyaz yelled. “Head’s up!”

A ball came hurling my way and I ducked a mere few seconds before the ball plummeted into me.

“My bad!” He yelled.

I sighed and shook my head. That damn nickname was something that stuck with me for as long as I could remember. 

Throughout most of my high school career, nasty students would use that nickname and burst into annoying giggles. 

My train of thought fizzled out as I noticed the hush that fell across the classroom. Mr Ebrahim was tapping his foot impatiently and a beautiful girl stood in the front of the classroom looking confident but slightly uncertain.

“Class, this is Naqiyah Seedat. She recently moved back to South Africa from America. Please make her feel welcome."

I noticed that some of the males in the class were ogling her as if she was a piece of meat and some of the females were looking at her with apprehension. The girl was beautiful after all, she had the ability to make anyone, including Arifa, feel inadequate. 

"There's a seat next to Mariam Badat." Mr Ebrahim said as he pointed to me. "You can sit there."

I sucked in a breath. There was a reason no one wanted to sit next to me. I was revolting to others. I knew I was clean and neat. In fact, I was pretty much a clean freak but people treated me as if I was the most repulsive creature on this earth. 

Someone snickered. I knew it was Ameer, Arifa's on and off significant other. 

"That seat is contaminated," someone else said in barely a whisper.

My eyes began to prickle. I didn't want to cry. I wasn't a weakling.

"That's enough!" Mr Ebrahim hollered in an exasperated tone. "Behave yourselves!"

Naqiyah was looking confused but she made her way to the table next to me. She gave me a warm smile and whispered a soft greeting before elegantly easing herself into the chair.

I blinked in confusion. I wasn't used to people being nice to me. Apart from my mother and random tellers, strangers pretty much either ignored me or made fun of me. 

There was more snickering. Someone said in a loud whisper, "Why are you sitting there? That's Mega Mariam! Or Mariam Big and Fatdat. Rumour has it that she's too fat to fit in the shower so she doesn't shower." 

Naqiyah was about to respond but Mr Ebrahim claimed order. Silent tears fell down my cheeks and I hastily brushed them away, impatient with my body’s need to betray me.

I was mostly ignored for the rest of the day. Naqiyah was in most of my classes and she was always smiling at me. I started to believe that her smile was more of a smirk. Maybe she was teasing me silently. But there was another part of me that believed that she was nice, that she was sincere and kind.

By the end of the day, I was exhausted. I wanted to get home and grab a bite to eat. I hadn't eaten during lunch as usual and I could feel the weakness settling in on me. As I made my way towards the exit,  I looked down, trying hard not to make eye contact with anyone. I preferred to be ignored rather than teased.

Someone bumped into me and I dropped all of my books. Arifa was standing in front of me, laughing delicately. 

"Oh dear! I am SO sorry." The sarcasm was hard to miss.

I mustered up a smile, trying hard to keep myself from tumbling into the depths of anger. 

"It's okay," I whispered.

I slowly knelt down and began collecting my books. Arrogantly, Arifa pranced towards me and kicked a book. It landed in a puddle of water and she laughed wickedly. I wanted to burst into tears and run home.

Instead, I sat there for a few seconds, staring at my surroundings, trying hard to swallow the lump in my throat.

“Need some help?” A sweet voice asked.

I froze. There was no way anyone could be speaking to me.

“Excuse me?” The voice asked again. 

I looked up and Naqiyah was hovering above me, smiling sweetly. She knelt down and helped me collect all of my books. "Here you go."

Arifa watched Naqiyah in astonishment. "Naqiyah darling, come here for a second." Arifa said in a shrill tone. "I need your help."

"Sorry," Naqiyah whispered. "I've got to run. Will you be okay?"

I nodded dumbly.

Naqiyah sauntered towards Arifa and the two began an animated discussion. They looked like they were close friends. Maybe this was some sort of evil ploy that Arifa was directing.

•Chapter 2•

I got home, angry and tired. My mum and I stayed in a cozy, three bedroom house just outside Houghton. It was too big for the two of us but it would have been too small for a whole family. My mother was the only family that I had. My father had died when I was barely a year old - the cruel rumour that flocked around the school had me believing that it was my fault that my dad died.

Apart from a few second cousins that I barely got to see and my dad's side of the family that resided in Saudi Arabia, I didn't have any other family. It was lonely and sometimes, more than anything, I wished for a sibling. Someone I could call my own and who wouldn't judge me for things that were beyond my control.

I had my mother though. We were extremely close. She was my best friend and my confidante. I spoke to her about everything...well, almost everything... I couldn't speak to her about my insecurities and my self hatred.

You see, my mother was beautiful. She was the epitome of perfection. She had a killer body even though she was in her forties and she had a face that most people envied. I still noticed the hungry looks of the male species that were cast her way.

I made my way to the kitchen and grabbed an apple. That's all I needed to eat for today. I knew that when my mother got home, I'd have to eat dinner with her. I would eat dinner every night with my mother, only to keep her happy and oblivious to my struggles. Later, I'd stick my finger down my throat and throw up every last bit of food until my throat would feel raw. 

I glanced around and decided to whip up a meal as I usually did. My mother rarely had the time, except on weekends, to cook. After I was done, I quickly cleared up and grabbed the forgotten apple from the counter. I could hear my stomach growling for some sort of nourishment.

Although I loved cooking, I hated eating. Eating led to weight and weight led to a girl who was so hideous, everyone hated her. Cooking helped though. The strong scents of the flavours would leave a little to be desired. 

I sighed softly and made my way to my room. I needed to get started on some homework and studying since my social life was pretty much non existent. As I propped myself on the bed with my books scattered around me, I involuntarily caught a glance of my reflection in the mirror which stood silently across from me, mocking me in a harsh way. In anger, I grabbed a textbook and flung it across the room. It hit the mirror and fell softly to the ground.

Two hours later, I had completed all my homework and I got a head start on my studying. There was nothing to do so I decided to have an early shower. 

As I peeled off my clothes, I tried hard not to look at my bruised body. Unfortunately I did not succeed. My eyes fell on the marks on my stomach. Angrily, I grabbed my tummy and twisted it with such fervour that I fell to the ground, trying hard not to writhe in pain. I grabbed my thighs and dug my nails into them until a piercing shriek sliced through my lips. 

Why did I hurt myself? I wanted to love myself for who I was but I was disgusted by myself. My body repulsed me, my face repulsed me, everything about me repulsed me. I was trapped in a pool of sheer hatred. I was my own enemy.

I grabbed my right thigh and twisted the handful of meat I grasped onto until the pain became unbearable. Then I got up and stepped into the shower. I twisted the faucet until hot water- almost boiling but not scorching- cascaded down my abused body. My body ached as the hot water burned my own injuries.

•

“Honey! I’m home!” My mother yelled as she entered the house later that evening. 

I ran downstairs to greet her. My mother was the only one who never judged me and believed in me. She had enough love for the both of us.

“Assalaamualaikum!” I greeted her before planting a kiss on her forehead. The only time a true smile would appear on my face was when I saw my mother.

“How was your day, sweetie?” She asked as she elegantly loosened her hijab.

“Um it was…the same.” I muttered. I would never tell my mother about the harsh reality I faced at school every day, she would only end up worrying about me. “How was your day?” I asked, eager to move off the topic that involved my terrible day.

“Ah, it was fabulous!” She gushed. She engaged in a detailed description about some meeting. I smiled and nodded at the appropriate times trying hard to process exactly what she was saying. 

The funny thing was that my mother and I belonged in two separate worlds. She was loved by all and envied by most. I was hated by all and envied by none. Half the time, my mind could barely fathom my mother’s life. It was something that I would never be able to understand.

As we settled in for dinner, my mother rattled off about one of her co-workers. I pushed my food around the plate, pretending to eat. I had barely taken two bites but I already felt that it was more than enough. Unfortunately, my mother noticed after a good few minutes. 

"Are you not hungry?" She asked.

"Not really." I replied carefully, hoping that she didn't question me any further.

Surprisingly, she let the topic go and I breathed a sigh of relief. For my mother's sake, I scarfed down a few more bites, hating myself even more with every swallow. I knew that I'd just regurgitate after dinner. 

•

As I entered the school the next day, my eyes trained on the ground, I heard Arifa's shrill voice calling out my name. I could not understand why she insisted on making my life a living hell. I ignored the snicker that erupted from her group of friends and almost walked straight into a pole. I swore under my breath, hoping against hope that no one had seen that. To my dismay, Arifa and her crew were watching me carefully, smirks on their beautifully made up faces.

I sighed and adjusted my school blazer. Most days, I felt that my blazer hid all of my rolls but Arifa had some sort of x-ray vision because she almost always laughed about my weight. My eyes trailed towards the mean girl and I sighed. Her short skirt showed off her perfectly shaped legs and she left the top button of her school shirt open, revealing cleavage. She'd only cover up when she was reprimanded.

On numerous occasions, I would find one of the young guys ogling her chest, desire clear on their faces. 

"Mega Mariam!" Zeenat, Arifa's side kick, squealed. "Why don't you come over here? Would you like some butter to go with those rolls?" She guffawed with the rest of the crowd. 

I inwardly cringed, forcing myself to look away and ignore the snickers that loitered behind those loud guffaws. I could feel the tears prick my eyes and I swallowed the lump in my throat. I could not allow them to see me burst into tears. Not again... 

“Well, well, well...” A somewhat familiar voice sliced through the air. 

•Chapter 3•

My heartbeat quickened and I muffled a groan. What now? Whose emotional punching bag would I be today?

I looked up, it was the new girl, Naqiyah. But she wasn’t speaking to me, she was speaking to Arifa.

“What is your problem?” Naqiyah asked Arifa, annoyance clear in her voice.

My interest was piqued. Slowly, I allowed my eyes to follow the scene that unfolded.

Arifa looked mildly rattled. “Huh?” She asked in confusion.

Naqiyah’s voice rang out clear and strong. “Are you so insecure about yourself that you’ve made it your life’s mission to treat others like shit?”

“Come on Naqiyah, we're just having some fun. Why don’t you join us?”

“If having fun means making fun of others then I don’t want to have fun!” Naqiyah spat in disgust.

“Why do you have to be such a wet blanket?” Arifa said in annoyance.

“Why do you have to be such a bitch?” 

“Oh honey, I endeavour to put the itch in bitch.”

Naqiyah raised an eyebrow. “And that makes you proud?”

Arifa shrugged. “Sure.”

“Well in that case, maybe you should higher your standards, sweetheart. Only terrible people feel good when bringing people down. A true queen builds people up, not breaks them down.”

There was a stunned silence as the two girls stared at each other. No one ever had the guts to stand up to Arifa. This was the first time that someone told her off.

A nervous clap erupted from a group of guys that had been watching the entire ordeal. Both girls snapped their heads in the direction of the clap and slowly, more people began to clap until the entire school yard was cheering.

Arifa’s face got red with anger. “What are you cheering at?” She asked one of her friends as her eyes flashed.

“That was hot,” he replied, clearly unfazed by her anger. “Two hot chicks having a showdown...” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Arifa stared at him unflinching and the smile slid right off his face. Then she turned to me, a look of hatred in her eyes.

When Naqiyah noticed this, she walked up to me and led me away. I don’t know if I was embarrassed or grateful. No one had ever stood up for me before and here was a mere stranger, protecting me as if we had known each other for years.

But the problem with me was that I didn’t trust anyone because I’d learned that people always had a hidden agenda. Two years ago, this guy went out of his way to be nice to me. I had been overjoyed. It was the first time that someone was paying attention to me. Later, I found out that he had been dared to befriend me. It had been a sick joke at the expense of my feelings. I was tired of people, I was tired of being a pawn in other people’s games.

“Are you alright?” She asked me, concern etched on her face.

Mutely, I nodded. I didn’t know what else to say.

“Are you sure?” She asked again.

“Why are you being nice to me?” I blurted out.

She looked at me with raised eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“You just had my back out there.” I gestured towards the front of the school. “Why?”

She sighed. “I hate it when people are mean to other people. I hate hatred, you know? I find it sick to see people taunting people. We’re one nation and yet, we act like we’re different species. Enemies, no less.”

I eyed her suspiciously but the look on her face stopped me in my tracks. There was something I had never seen before in a stranger, clearly prevalent in her eyes. Was she really being sincere? Or was she just a really good actress?

“What’s wrong?” She asked. “You just stopped walking.”

“You’re sincere.” I mumbled, my eyes not leaving hers.

She looked at me in confusion. “Why wouldn’t-” Realisation dawned on her. “Oh, right. Can I ask you something?”

“Umm... okay?” I said uncertainly.

“Are people always that mean to you?”

“Yes.”

“I’m so sorry!”

I have her a small smile. “It’s not like it takes any getting used to. It’s normal.”

“That is NOT normal!” She exclaimed.

“It is. People are like that all the time.”

Her face reddened in anger and I took a step back. Naqiyah was scary when she wanted to be. “How DARE they?” She erupted. 

“Umm...”

“That’s not how you treat people!” She said fiercely. “Oh, I will sooo give them a piece of my mind!”

“It’s not that bad.” I lied.

“It is! I’ve seen how bad it is! They call you dirty, as if you’re some kind of animal. They call you a mountain, as if you’re not deserving of kindness. I’ve heard everything they’ve called you and I’ve only been here for two days. And the worst part is that no one just calls you Mariam. It’s always Mega Mariam. That’s just not okay.”

“Look, it’s okay. Really, it is.”

She looked unconvinced. “I refuse to stand back and allow people to talk to you as if you’re a worthless piece of shit. I won’t allow it!” She seemed adamant.

I gave her a small smile. “I’m okay, really.”

And as I turned away from her, I haphazardly brushed the tear that had left my eye. I was touched that someone was actually nice to me. And I could feel that this girl had already won my heart. I trusted her.

•Chapter 4•

I got up the next morning, feeling somewhat lighter. It’s as if my heart was at ease. I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt this way, if ever. 

I smiled to myself. Things were finally looking up. My smile faltered as I realised that things never actually improved for me. A happy life was nothing more than a mere illusion. I watched my facial expression change within seconds in the mirror. My ugly face contorted in sadness and I turned away, biting back my anger. 

I knew I was an angry person and I couldn’t help it. Society abused me until I believed that I was worthless. My mind went to Naqiyah. How did she see me as anything but useless? Why did she see me as being worthwhile?

It couldn’t be a ruse, could it? The sincerity that swam within her eyes was unmistakeable. It was there, as clear as crystal. There were no clouds hindering her sincerity. And yet, there was a tiny crevice in my mind that believed Naqiyah’s sincerity was nothing more than a fallacy. I pushed that thought to the back of my mind, desperate to cling onto some sort of love. I needed Naqiyah to be telling the truth, to really care. I needed someone to care.

I shook my head in an effort to clear my mind. I was running late and I needed to get to school. I couldn’t risk being late. The last time I was late and I had rushed to class, my classmates had made a huge deal about the “Mariam earthquake” that they had all suffered.

I got to school and I could feel myself starting to smile. I wouldn’t have to be alone all day because I finally had a friend and it meant the world to me. I saw Naqiyah talking to someone. I wondered who it could be. She hadn’t seen me yet. I was contemplating whether I should call her but then decided against it.

I was just about to make my way towards her but the scene before me stopped me dead in my tracks. As Naqiyah shifted slightly, throwing her head back in laughter, the person she was talking to came into view.

It was Arifa and and she was staring straight at me, laughing with Naqiyah.

My heart sank and I felt a tear slip down my cheek. Mortified, I brushed it away. Why had I believed Naqiyah? She just proved to be like them. Had she too been just fulfilling a sick dare? Did she only want to play a sick joke on me and break my broken pieces further? 

I willed my legs to move but I was frozen in place. I watched them talk to each other, as if they were best friends. 

Naqiyah turned slightly, her eyes scanning the crowd. She spotted me and smiled before making her way towards me. I didn’t respond to her smile, I could feel my cheeks getting wetter with each passing second.

As she drew closer, she frowned. I jerked in response, finally feeling my legs. Before she could reach me, I turned on my heels and began to run. I ran as fast as I could, not looking behind me. My vision was blurry with tears but I continued to run. I fell twice, scraping my knees in the process. I barely felt the burn because of the adrenaline that coursed through me. 

I had made it home. I burst into the house after fumbling with the keys for a good few minutes. I got to my room and crumpled to the ground, my heart breaking in betrayal. 

Why did this always happen to me? Why did people hate me so much?

I cried until I had no tears left. When I had completely cried myself out, I took a deep breath. I walked towards the full length mirror and stared at the puffy-eyed, fat girl before me. Anger seeped into my veins and with a strangled cry, I grabbed a hairbrush and threw it at my reflection. It hit the mirror with a loud crack and the corner of the mirror shattered to the ground.

I knelt down and picked up the sharp edge, my mind twisting with the thoughts that entered. I ran to the bathroom and took off my shirt. Grabbing a chunk of my stomach, I twisted it in the hopes to feel pain. I took a deep breath and holding the piece of the mirror firmly, I began to carve out the words “I’m ugly” on my stomach. I made sure that I didn’t cut wounds that were too deep, I didn’t want to land up in hospital. They’d be sure to book me into a psych ward and call me crazy. I wasn’t crazy, I was just worthless. After all, society had enforced their hatred on me, forcing me to believe that I would never be worth it. 

The blood oozed out of my torso and trickled down. I stripped down and made my way into the shower. I switched on the hot water and allowed the scorching liquid to wash away my pain. A pool of red encircled my feet before lazily getting sucked into the drain. I stared at the red circles in wonderment. It looked somewhat beautiful. The excruciating stinging sensation that suddenly hit me, left me gasping in pain. The fresh wounds burned in the scorching water. I closed my eyes, willing myself to be strong enough to feel the pain. I needed to feel the pain. The physical pain would take away the emotional pain. 

When the water started to get cold, I quickly turned off the faucet. The coolness was too welcoming and I didn’t deserve to feel that relief. I dried myself with the towel, carefully avoiding my stomach. I didn’t need my mother to see the blood soaked towel and start questioning me.

Carefully, I dabbed my wounds with a wash cloth. I soaked a cotton pad with an anti septic liquid and carefully began to address the wounds. The moment the cool liquid met my open wound, I screamed in pain. The pain left me gasping for air but I was adamant to persevere. And so, I gritted my teeth as tears poured out of the eyes. I cleaned the wounds and took a large bandage and covered the fresh cuts. 

I didn’t tend to the wound in order to care for myself. Instead, I did it so that my mother would never suspect anything. If she happened to see the bandage, I could always tell her that it was an injury from a fall. 

I fell off to sleep that night, my heart and my body in pain. I just wanted it all to end. The sweet thought of never feeling anything again made me smile. I could rid the earth of disgusting me. It would be easy. I wanted to do it but my mother’s face flashed through my mind and my smile fell away. I couldn’t leave her alone in this world. She was too fragile to be left by herself.

•Chapter 5•

I woke up with an excruciating headache. I groaned as my eyes fluttered open and when I shifted, a searing pain jarred through me. I knew that I would be in physical pain for the rest of week due to the pain I had inflicted upon myself. The thought made me smile. I wouldn't feel any emotional pain this week. There was something calming in knowing that the cruel words or actions of my classmates wouldn't affect me in the slightest.

No wonder I relished in physical pain. It got rid of the emotional pain and I was all for that. I felt like I would be the one in control this time. No one, not Arifa, not Naqiyah...no one could hurt me.

I got up slowly, allowing the pain to wash over me in waves. Slowly, I unwrapped the bandage from my large torso and studied the wounds. They were already beginning to dry up. After cleaning them up again, I got ready for the day, all the while practising to keep a neutral look on my face. I couldn't allow my face to twist in pain and reveal my secrets to anyone.

As I walked into school, my heart fluttered in nervousness. I was earlier than usual today so I wouldn’t have to face the snickers that would follow me. I knew that by now the whole school would know that I was played by Naqiyah.

A small voice in my head told me that I might have jumped to conclusions. I cleared my head before hope could spark within me. I walked into the empty classroom and breathed a sigh of relief. I knew that the rest of the students didn’t come in until after the bell rang.

I took out a book and buried myself in it. I was so engrossed in the characters, I hadnt realised that someone was tapping my shoulder.

"Mariam?" A sweet voice called my name.

I started. It was Naqiyah. My face clouded over and I jerked my shoulder away.

"Wait. Let me explain. Please."

I refused to look at her and went back to my book.

She sighed loudly. "Please listen. At first, I didn't know what I had done to make you so upset. But yesterday, as I got closer to you, just before you fled, I realised what it must have looked like. I was just speaking to Arifa. She had approached me to apologise for being a bitch to you the other day and then she invited me for lunch. I gave her the benefit of the doubt because I thought that I had gotten through to her - and who knows? Maybe I did. Anyway, we started talking and she was asking me about America and I was telling her a funny story about traffic lights - or robots as you say. Wallah Mariam! If you had the absurd thought that I was laughing at you, you're wrong. Allah is my witness, I was not laughing at you! Is that why you were upset?"

My eyes had been trained on my book the entire time, but I had heard every last word. I remained silent for a minute and then slowly, I looked up at Naqiyah. Why did I find myself believing her? Her eyes shone with sincerity and I felt a thread of guilt slither through me.

"Do you believe me?" She asked again. "I would never play you."

I opened my mouth and then shut it again. After a beat of silence, I cleared my throat and tried again. "I'm just so used to being made a fool that it doesn’t surprise me when others hurt me. I thought you were different."

"I AM different." Naqiyah said in exasperation. "I hate hurting people. I don't do it. I'm not saying I'm a good person because I don't think I am, but I am not so horrible that I would hurt others for fun." She paused and I was about to speak when she said something so softly, I almost didn't catch it. "Not after what happened to Sumayya."

"What?"

"I said I hate-"

"Who's Sumayya?" I asked, intrigued.

"Did I say that out loud?" Her eyes had widened in fear.

"You did. Who is she?"

"My twin sister. She passed away though."

"I'm so sorry." I said, gasping.

"That's okay... Screw it. Maybe I should just tell you now."

"Tell me what?" I asked in confusion.

"I'll explain in a second. But first tell me what made you so upset with me. Did you really think I was laughing at you?"

Guiltily, I nodded. "Naqiyah, I am the object of laughter around here. I'm hated for the way I look... I'm hated so much that it feels normal not to be hated. People laugh at me whenever they can. I'm around for the entertainment of others. When I saw you laughing with Arifa, I thought you were laughing at me. I mean Arifa had been looking right at me when she was laughing. I thought that you befriending me was nothing but a ruse. The last time someone was this nice to me was only because they had been dared. It's a never ending cycle of cruelty."

Naqiyah's eyes shone with tears. "I am so sorry that you have to go through this. I almost know how you feel."

I rolled my eyes. "No one will ever feel the way I do unless they've been through this themselves."

"But I kind of do."

I laughed humourlessly. "How? You're beautiful and you seem to be popular already. Apart from that, you're also well off." I glanced at her designer handbag. "You've got it all. People don't hate you or make fun of you."

"You're right. I do seem to have it all. But my sister didn't." There were tears in her eyes.

"What do you mean?" I whispered. I was starting to feel really bad for snapping at her.

She glanced down at her watch. "The bell is going to ring any second. We'll chat after school okay?"

I nodded, my head spinning with everything that I had heard.

•Chapter 6•

The bell rang and Naqiyah had settled into her seat next to me. She offered me some gum with a smile. Just as I was taking it, Arifa walked in. She walked straight to Naqiyah.

"Naqs! I was waiting for you outside hun! Where were you?" Her eyes fluttered to me. "You know you don't have to sit with THAT, right?" She gestured to me. "You have friends now, sweetheart. Come sit with us."

Naqiyah smiled sweetly but I could see her eyes flash. "No, I choose to sit here and I choose who I'd like to befriend. And sorry Arifa, I don't choose you. I thought that maybe my speech would have gotten through to you but clearly, it didn't. I pray that you change your ways, honey."

There was a chorus of "Ohhh" coming from the group of guys that had heard the ordeal. Arifa looked dumbfounded. She opened and closed her mouth several times before turning on her heel and stalking off.

"I should apologise to her." Naqiyah said, looking guilty.

I nodded. "It sucks to be embarrassed in front of people."

"I know. She just irks me." Naqiyah sighed and got up.

"Arifa? I'm sorry, I know that was mean of me and I'm really sorry."

Arifa glared at her for a second and her eyes flitted across the room. All eyes were on her. "It's fine," she said curtly.

Naqiyah dropped her voice to a whisper. I could barely catch the words but it sounded like she was telling Arifa to be nice.

Arifa sighed. "Fine. On one condition though. Today you have to have lunch with us. Only then I'll forgive you."

Naqiyah turned around to look at me and I shrugged. There was no ways I'd join them for lunch but I didn't want to stop Naqiyah from going.

Arifa rolled her eyes. She jutted her chin towards me. "You can bring her too."

"Sure!" Naqiyah said, a smile forming on her face.

She walked back towards me. "Will you join us?"

I shook my head. "Not even in my wildest dreams." I whispered.

She begged me for a few more minutes before she realised that I wouldn't change my mind. "I won't go then." She told me.

"No, you have to go. I'll be fine." It took most of the morning to convince her that I would be fine before she grudgingly agreed to join Arifa for lunch.

Turns out that it wasn't such a great idea. Naqiyah was positively seething after school.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I don't know why I went for that stupid lunch. Arifa knows how to push my buttons."

My eyes widened. "What did you do?"

"Nothing. I ignored her snide remarks. I promised myself that I'd be civil with her so that's what I'm doing. I don't have the time or the energy to make enemies in life."

I nodded mutely before replying, "Good. She'll probably take it out on me if you keep standing up for me."

"I'm still going to stand up for you. I won't tolerate bullying."

"But-"

"No buts. Come on now." She grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the field. "Let's continue our conversation from this morning."

"I followed her towards a large tree on the embankment and we settled down.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence and some minor chitchat, Naqiyah began to speak about her sister.

"You remind me of my twin sister, Sumayya. I loved her more than my own life but at the time, I didn't realise it. She was my best friend, my better half... She was beautiful, but she didn't see it. We were fraternal twins so we didn't look alike. She used to be a free spirited little girl who had the knack for winning the hearts of others. People loved her but as she got older, that slowly disappeared. You see, Sumayya was slightly overweight because she had health issues. At the age of twelve, people started teasing her. She became the object of humiliation at school. We were in our preteen years and I was getting all this attention and I loved it. They called me the prettier one, the one who was more blessed, the better one. But I wasn't the better one, Sumayya was. She had a heart of gold and she had my back, no matter what. I didn't have her back though. I started joining the mean girls, thinking it was cool. I hurt her." I listened intently, caught up in her world. She brushed the tears from her eyes and took a deep breath. "Life started to get too much for her, she was barely hanging on. The years passed and Sumayya was nothing more than a shadow of the person she once was. The glint in her eye was gone, she barely smiled, she barely even spoke to me. She was being bullied every day at school, sometimes physically as well. When she was fifteen, I found her on the floor of our bathroom, a bottle of her pills in her hand and a note to me. It said, "I love you Naqiyah. You were the only sunshine in my life. Please pray for me, this world is getting too cruel and my heart is too weak. We got her to the hospital in time. It was a real wake up call for me." Naqiyah took a shaky breath, the tears streaming down her face. The anguish in her eyes were clearly apparent and my heart broke for her. I wiped my eyes, trying hard to control my emotions. "Anyway, it was tough at first but I knew that I couldn't carry on like this. I needed my sister. Those moments that I had thought I had lost her were the worst moments of my life. I had literally felt like I had lost a part of me. I stopped bulling her, I started to try harder with her. At school, we barely spoke because she didn't want people to hurt me because of our association. I begged her to sit with me during lunch but she refused. She told me that the kids at school were too cruel. They would hurt me and she wouldn't want me to hurt the way she did. I shouldn't have listened to her though. I should have tried harder. At home we had started to mend our relationship. I could see the glow slowly return to her face as our relationship improved. She became my best friend again. She was everything to me and I to her. Then one day, I had insisted on sitting with her at lunch. We were sitting under a tree, away from most people." Naqiyah paused, struggling to continue. "When Muneera, the girl I thought was my friend, came to us, she began to hurl insults at me, telling me I'm dirty trash for associating with my sister. I was so upset that I wanted to punch her but my beautiful sister calmed me down. We walked through the field and had almost made it when a ball came whirling towards me. Sumayya shoved me out of the way but she took the hit instead. It was a freak accident. It was meant to be just a concussion..." Naqiyah's voice broke and I pulled her in for a hug. She continued, "The impact of the ball to her head was so severe that she died within a few moments, in my arms. We found out later that she had a brain aneurysm and that's why it wasn't just a concussion. For weeks, I could barely speak. I had lost a part of me... the best person I had known. Then later, I found her diary and it broke me further. She had wanted her life to end, she couldn't handle it. But she had promised herself that she would try for my sake and she wanted to be a better Muslim..." Naqiyah paused, a painful, faraway look in her eyes.

I wiped my face, engrossed in her world.


•Chapter 7•

Naqiyah remained silent for a long time, her tears pouring in torrents. I didn't know what to say, I didn't know how to react. But I did know how Sumayya had felt.

The feeling of utter hatred for yourself just because you've been conditioned to believe that you are worthless. The feeling of comfort when death enters your mind. The feeling of no longer feeling... Sometimes death seemed so attractive.

Naqiyah started to speak again and I snapped out of my thoughts. "It took me ages to deal with her death. At first, I was angry with Allah, I constantly questioned Him. Why did He take away someone that was so wonderful? I couldn't understand. And then my madrassah teacher helped me. She told me that Allah takes His best soldiers first. She told me that Sumayya saving me wasn't the reason for her death. Because I was blaming myself. For a long time I believed that if that stupid ball had just hit me, the worst thing that could have happened was that I would have had a concussion. I was even angry with Sumayya. Why did she have to constantly play hero in my life? But my teacher told me that the ball was just an excuse. If we had not been on that field that day, Sumayya would have passed away in any case. Her aneurysm could have ruptured at any other time. Everything that had happened in that moment was just an excuse for death."

Naqiyah's sobs became heavier and she was shaking. I comforted her with a consoling hug and after a good ten minutes, her tears subsided. She raised her eyes and looked at me. "After what happened with Sumayya, I promised myself that I would never stand around and watch people hurt others if I could help it. So, when I tell you that I want to help you, that I will never hurt you, I mean it."

Guilt engulfed me and I ducked my head. "I'm sorry, " I mumbled. "I had no- I had no idea. If I had known-"

"Don't apologise," Naqiyah said. "I just want to be there for you because I could never be there for my sister. And I don't know if you've been through what she did and I pray that you won't..."

"Umm... I think I know what she felt. This world is cruel, too cruel. I just hope that my weakness disappears."

We spent a good few hours talking and crying. Naqiyah told me all about her sister and I told her about some of the bullying I had experienced. I left out the parts about me inflicting harm upon myself. It was my little secret and I didn't think that I could share that with anyone.

I got home, my heart feeling heavy, yet light at the same time. I didn't realise it before, but I realised it now. I needed a friend and I found the best one I could have asked for.

Something Naqiyah told me resonated within me. She had mentioned that prayer had helped her a lot. I thought about my own life. I rarely prayed and it wasn't a good habit. Maybe I just needed to talk to Allah about my life. I knew I should but I just didn't find it in me.

•

The next day Naqiyah asked me a strange question. "So do you think you can overcome these social hurdles?"

"What do you mean?" I asked her questioningly.

"Will you be able to overcome the bullying, the teasing?"

"I don't know how I'll be able to do that."

"Stop running away from your fears and start facing them. I can help you."

"How? I don't mean to sound skeptical but if you say you can help me by standing up for me every single time, I don't think people will stop bullying me. It might just increase all the hate."

"No, not like that. You need to start loving yourself because when you start loving yourself, others start loving you too."

I choked on the water I had been drinking. "Excuse me?"

"I don't mean to sound rude or harsh but I do think you need to concentrate on self love. It's important."

"I'm fine with myself."

"Well, do you love yourself?"

I froze, unsure on how to answer. "I... We... What?"

Noticing my discomfort, Naqiyah quickly said, "We'll speak about this when you're more comfortable."

I glanced at her sideways and nodded.

"So what are you going to do for Miss Amod's project? Most of my childhood toys were given to the thrift store back in America. I could have used it for some inspiration."

Miss Amod had given us an English essay about our favourite childhood memory. "That's a good idea," I said to Naqiyah. "I was stumped, but maybe I need to dig up some of my old toys for inspiration."

Naqiyah smiled teasingly. "Stealing my idea here?"

Worriedly, I asked, "Do you mind?"

She swatted her hand. "Nope. Of course not! You need to take it a little easy, Mariam."

I gave her a small smile. "Thanks."

I got home that day, excited to go through my childhood belongings. There was some sort of happiness in my childhood and going through it again would be wonderful. I was glad that Miss Amod had given us such an exciting assignment. I couldn’t wait to start with it.

After all, there was no hate and no disgust in my childhood. The insistent bullying was rarer and most people were friendly. People hadn't cared about the way I looked, but rather, how much fun I'd bring. Although I'd never been too close to anyone, it had been a nice time. The kids were less cruel. What happened to them though? What had triggered them to make them so cruel? I always wondered.

I made my way to the storage room at the back of the house. We barely ever came in here. The stale, musty smell infiltrated my nose and I coughed slightly. I went in and opened a window, trying to let in some fresh air. The light from outside streamed into the room, highlighting the dust specks that swirled around lazily.  I stared at all the boxes around me, feeling overwhelmed.

I made my way to the old chair and settled in before grabbing the closest box to me. I opened it and found old cups and saucers. I pushed it away and grabbed another box. I wish we had labelled everything. It would have made life so much easier.

I peered into the next box and a chain of sneezes left me. I dusted the top of the contents and it revealed countless black books. I could use these for school, I silently mused.

I lugged the box to my room before returning to the storeroom. I couldn't get distracted with all the boxes now. I needed to complete my assignment.

Within two hours, I had relished in the nostalgia that enveloped me and I had written my assignment. Now all I had to do was polish it before submitting it.

•Chapter 8•

The year passed faster than I expected. Before I knew it, we were writing our final exams. Naqiyah and I had formed a wonderful friendship. I didn't quite get to the point of loving myself and we were all too busy to concentrate on anything other than exams. Arifa and her crew still teased me when Naqiyah wasn't around but they too, had lessened their bullying towards the second half of the year because thankfully, they were too focused on their futures.

Naqiyah was going to attend university and I was going to study through correspondence. I was glad that UNISA offered those courses. I'd much rather study from home than deal with cruel humans in a university. The only time I would have to deal with people was when I was writing exams and hopefully, those people would be stressed-out strangers who wouldn't notice me. I wanted to study psychology because deep down, I just wanted to know why people were as cruel as they were. I opted for a general degree in humanities instead.

"So have you decided on whether or not you're attending our year end function?" Naqiyah asked me.

I sighed. "Naqs, I told you I'm not going so please don't make me." I looked at her pleadingly. "But you should go!" I added quickly.

"Well you know I don't want to go if my best friend doesn't join me." She pouted playfully.

"Naqiyah..."

"Okay, fine! I won't nag you about it but I would REALLY love it if you would change your mind."

"Well I know I'm not going to come."

She sighed. "Fine, but then you need to come over to my house to help me get ready. You've never been to my house and my family keeps wondering who this amazing Mariam is since I'm always speaking about you. And besides, I've been to your house so many times that I've lost count already."

"Okay, I'll be there. But you have to promise that you won't force me to attend the year end function."

Naqiyah squealed in delight. "Yay! I promise I won't force you!"

I smiled at her enthusiasm. It was so wonderful seeing her so happy. Something in me wished that I could feel such happiness. But I knew that Naqiyah had been through a lot so no matter how happy she was, there was pain buried somewhere within her.

•

The year had flown by and already, it was time for the year end function. I regretted on hastily agreeing to go to Naqiyah's house. I hated meeting new people, always afraid that they'd laugh at me. I tried coming up with excuses but I knew that she'd call me out on any of my feeble attempts. I sighed and mustered up all the courage I could before getting ready to head to her place. She told me that her driver would pick me up so I didn't even have the excuse that I had no ride.

When I got to her house, she was waiting at the door for me, jumping in excitement. "I really wish that you would have changed your mind and joined me!" She said.

"Another time." I responded, hoping to get her off my back.

"We're only in grade twelve once, you know?"

I laughed nervously. "I'm not coming with."

She rolled her eyes. "I know. Now come on, everyone is dying to meet you."

"Naqiyah!" I groaned. "You know I hate attention!"

"I know, but relax. My family is chilled."

I met her mother first. Naqiyah had given me her name but I had forgotten it within seconds. Naqiyah's mother was a plump woman with a beautiful smile. You could see where Naqiyah got her striking looks from. Next, I met her father. He was a friendly man with a short white beard and a deep voice. They were so friendly and wonderful, I almost thought it was a farce. But I knew that this family had been through such terrible pain that they would never hurt me.

We had just settled in the kitchen after I had made small talk with Naqiyah's parents when I almost dropped the glass I was holding. A handsome man, probably two or three years older than me strolled into the kitchen. "Hey sis!" He greeted Naqiyah and ruffled her hair.

She growled in annoyance. "Don't do that, Yusuf! You know I have a function to get to!"

He opened the fridge and grabbed a drink. "Oh, that's today?" He sat down at the table and noticed me. "Oh sorry! You probably think I'm so rude," he said with an American accent which had a hint of a South African accent to it. "You must be Mariam?"

I nodded, my tongue feeling heavy. This was the first time that a handsome man was speaking so nicely to me.

"Naqs speaks so much about you, I feel like I already know you!" He gave me a playful wink and I had to grab the table in an effort to keep myself from falling. "I would ask you what you're studying next year but I already know. Humanities right?"

I finally found my voice. "Yes. Umm... that's right." I was about to lapse into silence when I decided to try to make a conversation with him since he was so friendly. "What do you do?"

"I'm studying Finance." He rolled his eyes. "I know! I know! You already think I'm boring but it isn't that bad. It can be interesting."

Naqiyah then interrupted and I was grateful. As nice as her brother was, I was beginning to feel awkward. "Okay Yusuf, don't bore my friend with the details. Now unless you're going to help me get ready, you need to leave."

He made a face at his sister and said, "I need to head to the gym in any case." It was then when I noticed his bulging muscles. I quickly looked away. "It was nice meeting you, Mariam." He called over his shoulder as he jogged out the door.

"So what do you think?" Naqiyah asked, clapping loudly.

"Huh?" I asked.

"I was asking you what do you think we should start with but you were so engrossed in your own world that you didn't hear me."

I ducked my head in an effort to hide the blush that was creeping up my neck. Was I crushing on her handsome brother? I shook my head and tried to clear my thoughts, feeling ridiculous. There was no ways I could ever crush on anyone. Imagine how people would tease me if they had known I was crushing on someone.

The afternoon passed by quickly and before I knew it, Naqiyah was ready. She looked breathtaking in her emerald green gown. 

"Wow!" I breathed. "You look stunning!"

Naqiyah smiled. "You really think so?"

"Absolutely!"

"Can you do me favour?" She asked hesitantly.

"Sure, what is it?"

She walked towards her cupboard and removed a beautiful, deep turquoise gown. "Try this on. I was hoping that you'd join me but-"

I was already shaking my head. "No way!"

"Just so that we can take pictures. Please? I just want to see how you'll look."

"Promise me that you won't force me to join you though?" I told her carefully.

"I promise! Now come on, please put this on."

I gingerly took the dress from her and made my way to her dressing room. I carefully avoided the mirrors because I did not want to see my bruised, fat body.

•Chapter 9•

Surprisingly, the dress slipped on effortlessly. I slowly turned towards the mirror and gasped. I actually didn't look hideous! I didn't look beautiful but I did look okay. The dress didn't hug my rolls of fat and didn't accentuate my weight. It flowed beautifully to the ground.

Naqiyah knocked on the dressing room door. "Can I come in?" She asked.

I nodded before I realised that she couldn't see me. "Come in!"

Naqiyah gasped when she saw me. "You look beautiful!" She exclaimed.

I laughed. "You don't have to exaggerate. "I don't look as bad as usual."

Naqiyah glared at me incredulously. "Do you not see what I see? You look stunning! Wow!"

I cleared my throat. "Thanks, I guess.” I didn't want to argue about my appearance. "Now let's take those pictures so that I can get out of this dress."

We snapped a few pictures and I changed back into my sweats. I looked at the dress wistfully.

"Keep it." Naqiyah said.

"Oh no, I can't."

"Seriously, I bought it for you."

"I can't accept this Naqs."

"Why not? You’re like my sister, aren't you?"

I smiled. "Okay, if you're sure about it. Although I don't know when I'll wear this. I don't really go out."

"You'll have a reason to wear it one day."

•

Early the next day, the incessant ringing of my phone woke me up. I peered at the screen, it was Naqiyah. She was the only person that ever called me.

"Mariam! Oh how I wish you had joined me yesterday!" She barely gave me a chance to greet her back because she excitedly rattled off the events from the night before. She stopped to catch her breath.

"Good morning to you too," I greeted.

"Sorry, did I wake you?"

"Did you see the time?" I asked dryly.

"Oh gosh! I didn't realise it was so early! I'll call you back later!"

"No, that's okay. I'm already up."

I spoke to Naqiyah a while longer before she had to get going. I was happy that she had a great time and I was glad that I hadn't joined her. I knew that my classmates would have just laughed at me, had they seen me all dressed up. After all, ugly people could never be beautiful, right?

•

Later that week, Naqiyah invited me to her house again. When her driver got to the house, I dashed out in the pouring rain, trying hard to keep dry. When I finally arrived at her place, I made my way through the large garage. 

Naqiyah came to greet me, an apron around her waist. "You're finally here! Come on! I'm baking cookies, you can give me a hand."

"You enjoy baking?" I asked.

"Baking, cooking, all of it. What about you?" She asked.

"Oh! I love it too and surprisingly, I'm not too bad at it."

Naqiyah's smile was infectious. "So get in here! How do we not know this about each other?" She tossed me an apron and we set to work. I smiled happily, enjoying the calm of baking.

Yusuf walked in and I dropped the spoon I was holding. 

"Mariam! You're here again!" He exclaimed.

"Umm-"

"Sorry, I didn't mean that in a rude way!" He quickly apologised.

"You need to work on your social mannerisms, brother dear!" Naqiyah piped up, flinging some flour onto her brother.

He glared at her, unamused. "Did you have to do that?"

Naqiyah laughed. "Yes! Now leave!"

"No, I want to talk to Mariam. You speak about her so often, I need to see why." Yusuf drawled lazily, leaning one arm on the counter and crossing his feet.

I frowned. "I'm really not that interesting. The only exciting thing that's happened in my life recently is... well, this." I said as I motioned towards the contents in front of me.

Naqiyah's phone rang and she excused herself.

Yusuf turned back to me. "Well, tell me about your hobbies. Or should I guess again?"

I gave a small smile. "You can guess."

"Clearly you like cooking and baking, you seem like a bookworm and... the beach?"

I laughed. "Yes, yes and yes. But we don't have the beach here and I've only been to the beach once."

"Really?" He asked incredulously. "Only once?"

I nodded. "My mum doesn't really get a lot of time off work."

"Hmm, Naqiyah should invite you the next time we have a family holiday."

"Oh no, I can't impose. And besides, I can't leave my mother alone." I turned towards the oven to check on the blueberry cookies. They looked ready so I grabbed an oven glove and pulled the steaming cookies out of the oven.

Yusuf eyed the baked goodies hungrily. "Is this one of Naqiyah's recipes?" 

I shook my head. "Nope, it's one that I've been meaning to try for ages." I pointed to the batch of chocolate chip cookies. "Naqiyah made those before I got here."

His hand hovered above the blueberry cookies. "Mind if I take one?"

I shrugged. "It's your house. I don't think I can tell you no.” I said with a smile. "Be careful though, it's hot!"

He waited for a few seconds before grabbing one and popping it into his mouth. "Mm this is... HOT!" He fanned his mouth, his eyes wide.

I whirled around. I had just began to sift flour for a batch of cupcakes. "I told you it's hot!" I said to him, lightly flinging a cloth in his direction.

He grinned and I felt like I would fall over. His dark hair framed his face perfectly and his deep eyes held a mysterious intensity. He had a prominent jaw which had a light dusting of stubble.

"Hello?" He said, snapping his fingers in front of me. "Did you hear what I said?"

I snapped out of my reverie and quickly busied myself with the flour. I had been so engrossed in his looks that I hadn't heard a word that left his mouth. "What did you say?" I asked over my shoulder.

"I said that these are the most amazing cookies I have ever tried in my entire life!"

I laughed. "Okay, now I know you're exaggerating."

After another ten minutes of playful banter, Naqiyah walked in, clearly exasperated.

"That was the university. Ugh! They're so useless! The faculty needed me to email a bunch of documents that I had already sent."

Yusuf hopped off the bar stool he had been perched on and ruffled his sister's hair. "Well, I've got to get going. It was nice chatting to you Mariam, we should do that again sometime soon." He looked at Naqiyah before grabbing the tray of cookies. "When my dear sister doesn't interrupt every five seconds though.

Naqiyah glared at him. "Go away!" She whined. “Hey! Where are you taking those?”

“Mariam said they’re mine.”

Naqiyah made a face at her brother before grabbing one for herself. “Oh wow! These are amazing!” She gushed after she took a bite.

“Well they’re mine. Anyway, I’m out. Laters!” Yusuf sauntered out of the kitchen.

I waved and turned back to the task at hand, my mind working a mile a minute. Why and how was he talking to me? Surely it was only because he felt sorry for me. Maybe I reminded him of his sister and he thought that being nice to me would somehow make up for everything that happened to Sumayya. I knew that that thought was kind of cruel but I couldn't help it. I expected people to be harsh, to be mean. I didn't expect anyone not to have ulterior motives.

•Chapter 10•

Before I knew it, I was well into my first semester. Studying from home was wonderful, I didn't have to see anyone and I actually started to feel much happier. Naqiyah and I still visited each other often and I had really began to take a liking to her whole family. 

A lot of the time, I found myself chatting to Yusuf and I really enjoyed his company.

Life was not as unbearable as it was in school. It felt like it was kind of getting better.

Although I still barely ate, I felt like my self hatred had gone down by a lot. I'd only hurt myself when my own thoughts and my dark mind haunted me.

I glanced at the clock and stretched. I knew that I should first pray before doing anything else but a small voice in my head told me that prayer wouldn't make a difference in my pathetic life. Nothing made a difference. I felt somewhat guilty for thinking that Allah had forgotten and forsaken me but I quickly rid myself of those thoughts. I was only human. I shook my head and cleared my thoughts and decided that I'd just pray. It wouldn't hurt.

My salaah was weak, almost as pathetic as my life. My words came out in mumbles and I rushed through the cycles in robotic motions. When I was done, I sighed. I felt no peace and no contentment. Maybe I needed to put in more of an effort, I silently mused.

I quickly folded my prayer mat and hijab and carelessly tossed it under my bed. I knew that it would be a while before I used it again. It was a bad habit and I needed to get out of it. I knew that missing my prayers wasn’t a good thing and ultimately, a sin. I vigorously shook my head, I didn't want to think of religion right now because I knew that I wasn't a good Muslim.

I cleared my thoughts and headed to the kitchen. I wanted to whip up a few dishes that I hadn't tried before for this week. Now that I was home most of the time, I got a chance to experiment with a few dishes. Even when I was still in school, I used to be the one cooking.

I looked at the list of ingredients and groaned. I'd have to do some grocery shopping before I could get started. I glanced at the time and sighed in somewhat relief. It was still early, I doubted that I'd see anyone I knew.

I grabbed my wallet and slipped into my old beetle. Over the holidays, I had gotten my licence and because I had done really well in my exams, my mother had gifted me an old, green beetle. She told me that I'd need something to move around in with her gone the whole day. I barely used my car though, I only used it when I really needed to. For the most part, I'd try not to leave the house.

The scent of lavender hit my nose the moment I settled into the driver’s seat. Although it was an old car, it was somewhat comforting. The door on the driver’s side only closed after I'd fight with it and the seats were worn in, threads hanging in all directions. 

I made my way to the closest grocery store, with a mission to get everything I need and leave as quick as humanly possible.

I had just started scanning the shelves when a familiar voice made me freeze. The hairs at the back of my neck stood on end and my stomach churned.

"Well, well, well... If it isn't Mega Mariam!" Arifa's voice rang out loud and clear. I felt my back stiffen and I slowly turned around, willing myself to be dreaming. "I haven't seen you in quite a while Bafatty!" Her shrill laugh was grating. "Bafatty! I like that one. Why didn't I think of it in school? I'm sure that name would have also stuck. Where's that sidekick, Naqiyah? What did you do to her in any case? It's as if she actually likes you! Did you threaten her with your weight? Or did you do some sort of black magic on her?" Her eyes widened in mock disbelief. "Oh! Is that how you got rid of your daddy?"

My eyes started to prickle with tears. I tried to move past her but she wouldn't let me.

Her eyes travelled the length of me and I felt like I'd throw up. "Are you really trying to move past me? This whole aisle is filled with you, you barely fit! And what on earth happened to you? Did you put on more weight? You're enormous! I'm sure you have to live in an elephant’s cage right? Or is that even too small for you?"

The tears began to cascade down my face and I internally swore myself. I hated showing her any weakness. 

"Oh, for God's sake. Stop being such a cry baby. You're going to flood this whole store with those tears of yours. And now that your sidekick isn't here, you no longer have a voice, huh? Oh! How I've missed this! Mega Mariam, you should totally attend one of my parties, I'll hire you as the circus elephant. People love those things!" She was relentless in her rude remarks.

I gritted my teeth, trying hard to calm myself down. I could feel that there were sobs brewing within me.

"What are you doing here in any case?" She asked. "You don't need anything here. This is a grocery store, ya'know?" She smirked. "The pet store is that way!" She pointed to her right and then burst out laughing. "Although, I don't think anyone keeps elephants as pets!"

I was looking down at Arifa's beautiful stiletto heels. They wrapped her feet so perfectly, it looked as if they were made for her. Oh, how I wished that something about me - anything - was appealing. I was just a disgusting human! 

"Stupid bitch!" Arifa said. "Stop staring at my shoes. You're just giving me the evil eye." With that, she whirled around and stormed off.

I must have stood there for a long time before I dried my tears and robotically walked back to my car, the groceries forgotten. With mechanical movements, I got myself home. I felt empty. I didn't shed a tear on my way home.

I headed to my room and crumpled to the floor, feeling hopeless and hated. I slowly allowed the emotional drain to overcome me and I felt my head sliding to the floor. 

I couldn't help but think that the same day I had decided to pray was the same day that I was emotionally abused. I felt guilty for thinking that my prayer led to bad luck. I knew that the devil was whispering these devilish thoughts into my head but I couldn't help myself.

For a long time, I didn't move. After I felt somewhat calmer, I slowly opened my eyes. I was staring at the contents under my bed. I saw an old looking box and I wrinkled my nose. Where did that come from?

Momentarily, I forgot all about Arifa's cruel comments as I lugged the box from under the bed. The dust caught my throat and I coughed. I finally realised that I had taken this box from the storeroom and I couldn't remember why I hadn't returned it.

I opened the flap of the box and pulled out a black book. I had forgotten that I had these. I grabbed a pen, deciding to journal my thoughts but when I flipped open the book, it was filled with pages and pages of writing.

I grabbed a few more and flipped through it. They were journals, I realised.

•Chapter 11•

My mother's handwriting flowed from page to page, tying her thoughts together. I looked for a date, it was dated about twenty years ago. I was about to shut her journal and toss it back in the box when the words caught my eye. I knew that I shouldn't read it without her permission but I was intrigued. 

Here elegant scrawl was somewhat enchanting. But that wasn't what caught my eye.

"Laamia needs a slap, seriously! She's so annoying. I KNOW that she was asked if she could model for some magazine. I was with her, for God’s sake and yet, she keeps reminding me. I don't even know why they asked her, I mean I'm better looking than her in any case. Maybe she just keeps reminding me because she's so insecure about herself. Well I would be too if I had those thighs of hers. Ugh! She annoys me"

I blinked in confusion. This didn't sound anything like my mother but the handwriting was unmistakable. I turned to the front of the book. Her name, Tasneem Moosa, was printed on the inside of the front cover. 

I continued reading.

"Speaking of thighs, Aneesa Bhayat is so HUGE. I'm not even kidding, she is a giant boulder. The cry baby started crying when I told her to go on a diet. Gosh, she's so touchy!"

My eyes scanned the rest of the sentences and tears began to fall down my cheeks. My mother was just like them. She was a bully, she was heartless, she was the mean queen. I knew that I should stop reading the silly diary but I couldn't tear my eyes away from the words that sickened me to my core. She spoke mostly about herself, her words laced with vanity. When she spoke about others, she had nothing nice to say. 

I wiped the tears from my face and got up, feeling more hatred towards myself than I had ever felt before. My own mother couldn't love me. How could she love a disgusting piece of human degradation like myself?

I entered the bathroom, hatred and anger swimming within me. I grabbed my flabby stomach and pulled it, wishing that I could rip it right off. My skin stretched and ached as I twisted it, determined to twist it right off. But that only resulted in pure agony. 

Tears streamed down my face and I willed myself to stand in front of the mirror. I walked towards the mirror, my eyes closed. I stood before it, terrified by the sight awaiting me. Very slowly, I opened my eyes. I stared at my chubby feet, my huge calves, my ‘thunder thighs’, my round tummy, my big chest and thick neck. 

In vicious anger, I punched my reflection. "You hideous beast!" I whisper-screamed. "You are the most disgusting creature under the sun! No one will ever love you!"

“Stop it!” A small voice in my head screamed. “Mariam, deep down, you love yourself. You’re beautiful!”

“No. You’re ugly. You’re fat.” The other voice said in a sadistic tone. 

The two voices continued to argue and I tried drowning them out as I covered my ears in a desperate attempt to forget everything that plagued me. Again, my gaze fell onto my naked body reflecting in the mirror. I drowned out the voice telling me I’m beautiful, knowing full well that that was the voice that always lied to me. 

I lowered myself to the ground and stretched my legs out in front of me. I looked around for a sharp object but couldn't find anything. I knew I had a blade somewhere. I had recently used it to help my mother cut the cardboard she had needed. I wrapped a towel around me and went into my room, hunting for the blade. I finally located it stacked neatly with the rest of my crafts.

I headed back to the bathroom and crumpled to the ground again. I took the sharp object and dug it into my inner right thigh. It sliced the skin as thick blood oozed out of the cut. I bit my lip from screaming and allowed the tears to cascade down my face. I hesitated for a second before placing the object on my left thigh. I pressed it into my skin and it slit my pale skin as red blood gushed out of the new wound.

I dropped the blade and stared at the two cuts on either thigh. The blood was ridiculously thick. A tear slid down my cheek and dropped onto the fresh wound. It burned in excruciating pain. I willed myself to get up and I stared at my wounded body in the mirror. It looked like I had been brutally abused. I had been brutally abused. I had been brutally abused by my biggest enemy. Myself.

I climbed into the shower and turned on ice cold water. I shivered as the icy water cascaded down my back. The moment it hit my wounds, I fell to the ground in pain. I sat there for a long time as the water slowly began to unwind my tensed muscles.

After what felt like hours, I got out of the shower, addressed the wounds and headed to the kitchen. I needed a distraction. 

I was done cooking within an hour and mindlessly, I walked back to my room. My eyes fell on my mother's journals again and I willed myself not to read them. I couldn't help myself though. Curiosity engulfed me and I grabbed a journal.

I scanned through it. My mother had just met my father, Yunus, and there were pages and pages on how much she liked him.

"Can you imagine if Yunus and I have a child? With both of our genes, our child will be the most gorgeous creature under the sun."

I slammed the journal shut, hurt and fury mixing within me. My mother thought that she'd get someone perfect and she ended up with me, the most disgusting creature under the sun. I took a deep breath and tried to steady my nerves.

•

Later that day, I could barely look at my mother when she came home from work. The woman that I had thought would love me, through all my imperfections, didn't actually love me. I wondered to what extent her repulsion stretched when she looked at me. She greeted me and stopped short.

"You're okay?" 

I nodded, unable to look at her.

"Honey? What's bothering you? And don't tell me nothing because I can see that something is wrong."

"I'm fine." I said softly.

"Speak to me, baby."

"I'm just stressed about exams." I lied.

My mother nodded, clearly not believing me but she didn't push. "Well you know you can talk to me about anything right?"

I mustered a fake smile. "I know."

I looked into her eyes and almost believed that she was looking at me with love. 

I inwardly cringed at my own weakness. The beautiful woman couldn't love me after everything she wrote.

•Chapter 12•

Over the next few days, my mother's journals became an addiction. I couldn't stop reading them. Most of it was about herself. My mum was kind of an airhead. All she could talk about was people and herself. It was almost nauseating. Had I not known that my mother had written these diaries, I would have hated the author.

I started reading yet another journal and felt fatigue embrace me. It was almost welcoming so I threw the journal back into the box and pushed it under my bed. I needed sleep.

•

I was in some kind of mirrored room and everywhere I turned, my own image laughed at me, taunting me with humourless laughs. 

"Stop!" I screamed. "Please! Stop!" 

The laughing figures were relentless. I screamed in horror. "Mum! Mummy! Where are you?" 

I could hear her faint voice somewhere in the distance. "I'm here!" I ran and ran and it seemed like I wasn't moving. Then, all of a sudden I was in some kind of field, splattered with large sunflowers. I called for my mother again and she appeared in front of me. She took my hand and led me to a dark road.

"Mum! I'm so scared!"

"I know, honey. I know. Now there's something I need to tell you."

The tone in her voice made me stop in my tracks. 

"Is something wrong?" I asked worriedly.

"Yes, honey. There is. You need to know-"

"Know what?"

"Honey, this is not easy for me." She took a deep breath. "But you're an ugly beast. You disgust me. I hate you. You're just a lump of fat and nothing more. You have no personality, no looks, nothing. Sometimes I wonder how we're even related."

I started to cry, my heart shattering. "No, Mum... Please. Don't say that."

She started to laugh at me and I continued to cry. When I could take no more, I turned around and ran.

"Come back!" My mother screamed. I turned around and saw her with Arifa, both of them laughing at me. 

"No!"

"Mariam!" She called. "Mariam! Mariam! Get up!"

I opened my eyes in horror and a scream left my throat. My mother was hovering over me looking concerned.

"Are you okay?" She asked me.

I blinked around in confusion before I realised that I was safe in my own room.

"It was just a dream." I said out loud.

My mum nodded. "Do you want to talk about it?" She asked worriedly.

I shook my head and my mum looked unconvinced.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm okay."

"You don't look okay honey. Is something bothering you?"

"No," I whispered, still trying to calm myself down.

"Speak to me, baby. I'm your best friend, remember?"

I gave her a small smile, my mind racing. "I just need to get something to drink." I was about to get off the bed when my mother rested a hand on my shoulder.

She gently pushed me back. "You stay right here and relax. You look like you need to. I'll make us some tea and then we can sit out in the garden okay?"

I nodded, unable to find my voice.

My mother called me a short while later and I made my way to the garden. I could smell the remnants of chamomile tea in the kitchen and I took a deep breath, welcoming the calm it brought upon me.

•

The next day I went back to my mother's diaries. I needed some sort of closure.

"That FAT whore is getting on my nerves. She carries on like she knows everything. And then she has the nerve to tell me that she was just trying to help. Needless to say, she started crying when I told her that she's just annoying and not helpful."

I closed my mother’s diary and glanced at the time. It all sounded too familiar. Arifa seemed to be the replica of my mother. They were exactly the same. But my mother was such a different person now, she was so wonderful, so caring, so lovable. It was hard to believe that the girl who compiled this diary was the woman who claimed to be my mother. Did she really love me though?

I picked up another journal and opened it up. It was shortly after she and my father had gotten married. A picture of my mother in her wedding gown slipped out and I picked it up. I'd seen this picture so many times before and each time it left me awestruck. My mother was draped in a beautiful gown. It was slim fitting around her waist and gently flared out around her. Her hair was clipped up with numerous tendrils framing her beaming face

I turned back to the words on the page.

"No…this really can’t be happening. It’s just a dream. How could I have let this happen? Why didn’t I use my stupid head? What am I going to do? I'm not ready to be a mother yet, I mean we just got married! I can't do this! Not now!"

As my eyes read the words in front of me again, I covered my mouth. I was numb with utter shock. After a few moments of stony silence, I continued to read.

"I’m pregnant. How? Why? When? I can’t believe this. I did not tell Yunus yet, I’m terrified of him leaving me. What do I do?

I told Yunus today and he was excited. I am so confused though, I can’t think straight. My life is a mess… I am a mess. How did this happen? How did my perfect life shatter? In a moment? One second I was getting married and the next… Our lives have fallen apart."

I allowed the tears to fall from my eyes, I felt shattered. My own mother didn't want me. I was a burden to her. Why didn't she just abort me? It would have made everyone's lives so much better. Did she only say that to placate herself? I sighed and continued.

"I’m not pregnant! Thank goodness! It was a false alarm. But this has taught me yet another lesson… Life is far from perfect. I’m just so shallow. When I told Yunus, he was crushed. But I feel like I've changed. My heart has changed. I don't know how to explain it. I feel like I have been knocked with realisation from all sides. Life is not perfect, it’s unfair. We can’t mess with life, we shouldn’t hurt people…we’re all human, all equal. No one is more superior than the next."

I paged through the rest of the journal and slammed it shut. I didn't want to read any more. It was too depressing.

•Chapter 13•

I pulled into the quiet parking lot and prayed that I wouldn't see anyone I knew. My mother had just sent me a list of things she needed because she really wanted to cook tonight. I had just gotten all the ingredients and I was standing in the line to pay when the voice that I had come to dread, spoke up.

"If it isn't Mega Mariam!" Arifa said, taking her place in the queue behind me. "Are you following me?"

I ignored her, pretending to read the back of the carton of milk.

"Reading the information on your family, I see. Oh wait, you're an elephant. Not a cow."

I turned around to face her, words of malice on the tip of my tongue. My words died instantly when I saw her three friends with her. They were all cowering behind her like slaves, with matching smirks on their faces.

"If I were you, I'd never leave the house." Arifa said and her troop snickered. "Besides, this seems like it's your hangout spot." She threw her head back and laughed. "Wait, I have one. Where do fat girls go to party?" She asked. Before any of her friends could answer, she said, "The grocery store! Where else?" 

Her friends collapsed into giggles and Arifa smirked proudly. The cashier called for me and I inwardly groaned. I wanted to get out of here but I couldn't leave the shopping cart in the middle of the aisle.

With tears pricking my eyes, I made my way to the cashier. I could hear the next cashier call for Arifa and I heard her gush about Arifa's beauty. I tried to get out of there as soon as possible. 

Arifa was waiting outside but she was engrossed in a conversation with Yusuf. I stared at them, feeling somewhat betrayed. I knew that Yusuf and I weren’t best friends or anything but how could he speak to her as if they were friends? Unless they were actually friends.

I had safely passed them and I almost froze when she called out my name.

"Mega Mariam!"

I heard Yusuf's voice. "What did you just call her?" He asked. 

Before I could hear her response, I made a beeline for my car. I had just loaded my car when Yusuf approached me.

"Mariam! How are you? I haven't seen you-"

Arifa was coming closer and I needed to get out of there.

"Sorry Yusuf. I'm in a rush. I'll talk to you soon!"

I jumped into the car and fought with my door. Out of all days, it was giving me problems today. Yusuf came up to me and smiled. 

"I'll help you," he offered. He grabbed the door and shut it firmly. I mouthed a quick thank you to him and screeched off before allowing the tears to flow from my eyes.

After unpacking the car when I got home, I went to my room, a feeling of complete and utter hatred engulfing every crevice of my being.

I could feel the hatred travel through my veins, poisoning my blood. With every second that ticked by, the hatred intensified. I didn't want to live, not anymore. No one else wanted me alive so why was I trying so hard to stay alive? I was wasting time and space. 

I needed to feel the pain of my hatred. I needed to torture myself because I didn't deserve anything other than pure pain.

I stared at myself in the mirror and cursed the disgusting creature that stared back at me. The huge rolls that tumbled from my bruised torso were enough to make me gag. I grabbed my stomach and twisted it with such fervour that a sound of agony escaped my trembling lips. I hated myself. I hated every single bit, and there was a lot to hate.

Slowly, I undressed as my eyes bore holes into my reflection. The more flesh that was revealed, the more sickened I felt by myself. 

Dark bruises encircled my large waist, dressing my body in an even uglier costume. The faint scar was noticeable. 'I'M UGLY', it read.

I glared at the face staring back at me. My nerdy glasses covered my eyes, making them look small and beady. On the contrary, I actually had large eyes. It was the one feature that I didn’t completely hate. My limp, dark brown hair fell in a stringy mess around my shoulders, looking lifeless. To make matters worse, there was a large pimple sprouting on my chin, making me look uglier than usual. I touched it gingerly and winced. This was going to be a bad one. 

I stared at the reflection and tried to look at myself from Arifa's eyes. Yes, I was revolting. No wonder they hated me, but a part of me just didn't understand. I didn't ask to be created this way.

A morose sigh left my chapped lips. I needed an escape. I needed to get away from the stain of hideousness that tainted my entire being. I didn’t want to live this way anymore. I couldn’t live with the stigma that my outer appearance automatically reflected. 

Hot tears burned down my cheeks. I needed some fresh air. Quickly, I redressed and ran towards my car, my mind in a jumble of thoughts. I gasped for air and flung open the car door. I knew I was being reckless and frankly, I didn’t care. 

“Maybe meeting up in an accident wouldn’t be the worst idea,” I mused silently. 

A humourous laugh left my throat, sounding more like a sick gurgle. 

Switching on the ignition, I sighed. Then, without another thought, I reversed the car before driving off at breakneck speed.

My thoughts haunted me, relentlessly teasing me. The tears came down in torrents, blinding the road in front of me. But I didn’t care. I just didn’t care.

Why did I have to be created this way? Why couldn’t I get everything I wanted? There were so many young girls that always had exactly what they wanted. They were beautiful, they were perfect. Why couldn’t I be the kind of girl that others envied? Why? Why did everyone always make fun of me? Why couldn’t they understand that I too, am a mere mortal? That I am just a human, much like them? Why did their evil laughs and teasing tones hurt me so much? Why couldn’t I just ignore them? Why couldn’t I just accept myself? Why couldn’t society accept me for who I truly was? Why couldn’t society’s expectations crumble to the ground, along with my self hatred? Why? Why? Why?

Here I was - an imperfect, disgusting creature. I was nothing - absolutely nothing. No one ever looked at me and smiled. No one ever wanted what I had. I was repulsive, sickening.

I could feel the clutches of depression grasp my heart, pulling me towards the overpowering pool of darkness.

Who would ever want me? Who would want to love me? Surely, I was the type of person that only a mother could love. They told me that before. They told me that only my mother could love me. But I wondered if that was even true. After everything that I knew, I doubted that my own mother loved me. She couldn’t. She probably didn’t want to. I was nothing more than a worthless burden. But how could I stop being a burden? No man would want to marry me. I would have to make it myself in this cruel world. I would have to-

I snapped out of my thoughts as the headlights of an oncoming car blinded me. I recklessly swerved to the left and another car honked loudly at me. I felt that I was losing control. The steering twirled in my hands as I tried to grasp it back into control. I saw another set of lights heading straight to me. I couldn’t regain control. It was a lost cause. But I needed to try...or did I?

Before I could think of anything else, I heard the loud crash and I felt the impact. It all seemed to be happening in slow motion. The crunch of the metal along with the searing pain that entered my right leg made me realise what was happening.

I let out a bloodcurdling scream before everything went black.

•Chapter 14•

...

...

...

...

"Why did she do this?"

"I don't understand!"

...

...

"Whose fault was it?" 

...

...

“Will she be okay?”

...

...

For days, all I heard was soft murmuring. I tried to open my eyes but I just couldn’t. It felt as if I was stuck in something, unable to get out of it, unable to see and to speak.

I heard my mother’s voice everyday. She sounded scared and alone. Was I dead?

I also heard Naqiyah and Yusuf’s voices often. Everyone sounded worried.

I tried to get up and assure them that I was okay but I was stuck. I couldn’t will my mouth to form words or my eyes to open. I could feel the uncomfortable tubes in me and the needle in my arm. I had to be in a hospital. But what had happened? How did I get here? I knew that I couldn’t have been stupid enough to hurt myself.

I didn’t know whether minutes were passing or days. I could feel myself surfacing, albeit slowly. If only I could open my eyes.

And then one day, I felt myself splutter and my eyes finally opened. I didn’t move, trying hard to grasp my bearings. My mother was at my side within seconds, laughing and crying at the same time.

There was something in my mouth that prevented me from talking. My arms felt heavy, I could barely move them. 

Minutes later, a doctor was hovering over me, slowly taking out whatever was in my mouth. He had a friendly smile on his face and he was speaking to me.

“Do you remember what happened?” He asked softly.

I tried to shake my head but I couldn’t. My eyes darted wildly around the room. Why couldn’t I move? Why couldn’t I speak?

He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Relax, you’re okay. Don’t try to move yet. It’ll take some time. Can you talk?”

I swallowed and realised that my mouth was extremely dry. I felt as if I had never had a sip of water in my entire life. 

I opened my mouth slowly and croaked. "I think..." My voice didn't sound like my own, it sounded so completely foreign.

The doctor smiled. "Do you remember what happened?" He asked again.

"Not really," I whispered.

He looked concerned but after confirming the year with me, he was happy with my apparent progress.

The moment he left, my mother was back at my side. She gently stroked my head. "How do you feel, sweetheart?"

"Okay, I guess." That was a lie. I felt as if I had been hit by a truck. As this thought wafted through my mind, it suddenly all came back. I had been upset and I had just wanted to be free from it all. I didn't want to feel, my shattered heart had pierced me with each of it's jagged shrapnel's. "What happened?" I asked.

"You were in an accident. A drunk driver rammed straight into you after you had lost control.”

I learned that I had fractured a rib, broken a leg and my head had been severely injured. Apparently I was lucky to be alive.

My mother continued to smother me until she was chased out by the doctor. He looked serious and I could feel my heartbeat accelerate. I knew what was coming. It was inevitable. I silently cursed myself. Why did I have to be such a complete idiot? If only I hadn't driven around recklessly... I vaguely recalled the bruises on my body. The doctor would want to know about them. 

I was so angry with myself. I wish I could hurt myself for my stupidity but I could barely even move.

"Miss Badat?" The doctor asked pointedly.

"Sorry, I didn't hear you." I whispered, my voice trembling.

"We noticed bruises and scars that were not a result of the accident. Can you tell me where they're from?"

"I fell." I lied.

"I'm sorry, but those marks are definitely not from a fall." He sighed and adjusted his glasses. "We noticed the engraving on your stomach." He said the word 'engraving' with a tone that indicated that he put a lot of thought into finding an appropriate word.

I grimaced but said nothing.

"Do we need to call the police to open an investigation?" He asked gently.

"NO!" I exclaimed so loudly that my throat burned in response. A flicker of surprise crossed his face but he immediately covered it up with a look of concern.

"If someone hurt you, we have to report it."

"No one hurt me." I said stubbornly.

"I'll have to ask your mother then," he said tiredly.

"No! You can't. I'm eighteen. Am I not protected by doctor-patient confidentiality?"

"You are, but in this case I may have to. I need to ensure that you are not being abused.

There was something that told me he was bluffing but I was too scared to find out. "Fine. If I tell you, you cannot force me to do anything I don't want to and you cannot tell anyone."

He agreed and I told him how I hurt myself, without giving him too much detail and exposing myself.

"I suggest you see a psychologist."

"You promised that you wouldn't force me to do anything I don't want to." I pointed out.

"Yes, but I do have to advise you accordingly."

I inwardly groaned as he went on about the benefits of speaking to someone. I was barely listening but I nodded and pretended to look interested. I just wanted him to get out of there.

"So please consider it."

I nodded. "I will. And don't tell my mum."

"I won't." He gave me a sad, pitying look. “Here.” He handed me a card. “This is Doctor Welman. She’s lovely, I told her you’d call her.”

I glared at him in irritation. “But-”

“But nothing. It’s my job to protect people. I made that promise.” His voice was firm and his lips were set in a thin line.

“Fine.” I said in annoyance.

He walked away. My mum was next to me in an instant. 

"Is everything okay?" She asked worriedly.

"Everything is fine, mum. He was just asking me some routine questions."

•

The next few days passed by excruciatingly slowly. I told my mother that she should tell anyone that wanted to visit me to visit me when I got home. The hospital was uncomfortable and nauseating. My mother fussed over me during every waking moment that I barely had time to think. She insisted that I eat and I was forced to shove down some food so that she wouldn't suspect how much I hated eating.

Two weeks later I was back at home and after insisting that I was okay, my mother agreed to go back to work within the next few days. She looked pained to leave my side, even for a second.

But she ended up staying at home for the rest of the week, refusing to leave my side.

"Mum, I'm fine. I promise." I told her firmly.

"I know, honey. But I can't bear the thought of you getting hurt again. I have the need to protect you."

"I know. But I need some time to think about what happened because I haven't really had any alone time. My thoughts are all over the place."

She sighed. "I can't leave you alone. How will you get food or go to the bathroom?"

"I'll manage, promise. Okay, look. What if I promise to phone you if I need anything?"

After much negotiations, my mother finally agreed to go back to work. I had to promise to call her if I needed anything and to check in with her three times during the day. I also had to promise her to call Naqiyah over as often as possible.

My mind wandered to the day I had been discharged from hospital. Naqiyah had burst into the room, a huge smile on her face, balloons in one hand, a box of chocolate in the other, and flowers perched under her arm. But the moment her eyes landed on me, she burst into tears.

"Oh Mariam! You scared me." She wept as she quickly put everything down and made her way to the bed. She gave me a light hug, handling me as if I were made out of fragile crystal.

I smiled at her reassuringly. "I'm okay."

"We thought that you weren't going to pull through." Her tears starting falling more rapidly and I placed a hand on her arm. "I can't lose you too!"

She cried and hiccuped for a long time. I felt horrible for hurting her.

"I'm so sorry." I whispered.

"It's - not your fault." She said as she hiccuped again.

If only you knew, I thought to myself. I had wanted to get hurt, I had wanted to feel the pain... But I didn't tell her any of it.

•Chapter 15•

When my mother finally decided to go back to work, I breathed a sigh of relief. The thing was that I wasn't completely over her cruel words in her journal. I knew that I shouldn't have read it but I just couldn't help myself. 

I winced as I opened my drawer on my nightstand and pulled out another one of my mother's journals. A voice inside my head was begging me to put it down, to forget about it, but something in me refused to cooperate.  

I opened the journal to a random page and began reading.

"This time, I really AM pregnant and it’s not a false alarm! Yunus and I have been trying for over a year now. I went to the doctor and everything. Oh my, I am so insanely excited. I can’t wait to hold a beautiful baby in my arms. And one thing I am absolutely positive about, this baby is going to grow out to be lovely, whether it’s a girl or a boy.”

Lovely? I thought to myself in disgust. More like ugly! 

Tears formed in my eyes, I really wished that I was not this baby even though a feeling inside me told me that I was. If this was me my mother was speaking about, I had been a disappointment to my parents. I flipped through the pages, almost desperately. I needed to see if I was this baby that my mother was so excited about. Finally, I found the page where my mother’s millions of exclamation marks signaled that this had to be the entry where she stated things about her newborn baby. I scanned the page. No, it was the day before she was due. I quickly turned the page and there it was. To my utter astonishment, the words were nothing that I’d expected them to be.

“Oh my god! It’s a baby girl! A beautiful baby girl! Wow, the feeling going through me from the moment she was placed in my arms is absolutely indescribable! Yunus and I have decided on a name (and we both love it!). We have named this beautiful bundle of joy Mariam. She’s beautiful! I’ve never seen a more beautiful creature than Mariam. She has the most gorgeous eyes I have ever seen! She is the definition of perfection, the epitome of perfection!”

My mind was reeling. My mother had thought I was beautiful? I continued to read. The next few pages basically described me, down to the tiniest detail, like the fact that I had a birthmark behind my left knee. So even if I did not want to believe that the baby my mother was bragging about was me, I had to. 

I was so engrossed in my mother’s words that I hadn’t realized that it was time to call my mother before she started to get anxious. I was just about to call her when my phone started ringing.

“Salaam Mum,” I greeted. I could feel my heart a little lighter. My mother had thought that I was beautiful and it made my heart soar in happiness.

“Mariam!” She said frantically. “Are you okay? You didn’t call! I’m so worried!”

“Relax, Mum. I’m okay. I promise. I didn’t realise that it was time to call you.”

“What were you doing?” 

“I was reading. You know how engrossed I get in my books.” I didn’t have to tell my mother what I was reading.

She sounded relieved. “Did you eat, honey? I left some fruits for you on your night stand.”

I grabbed a strawberry and bit into it. “I’m eating now.”

“Okay, I won’t keep you away for too long. Call Naqiyah to keep you company. She told me that she’s pretty free for the next two weeks.”

“I’ll call her now.”

“Good. And don’t forget to call me again later. I don’t want to worry again.”

I promised to call her and then I hung up. I quickly called Naqiyah and she told me that she’d come by with her mother. I hung up and began brushing my hair, trying to sort out the mass of tangles that sat upon my head.

When my hair looked remotely presentable, I looked down and realised that my mother’s diary was still in my lap.

I picked it up and was about to stash it away when a picture slid out and cascaded to my lap. I gingerly picked it up, slightly disinterested, and gasped. It was a closeup of my beaming family. I stared at my father and suddenly I felt a jolt go through me. I brought the picture closer to my face, studying my father’s face. Apart from being overweight, I looked a lot like him. But he was good looking... I didn’t understand how I found myself to be so hideous when I looked so much like my father. I grabbed the small, broken piece of the mirror and stared at my face. I couldn’t see the beauty there. 

My cellphone started ringing again and I jumped, completely startled. My face was moist with tears, I didn’t realise that I had been crying. I shoved the picture into the journal and tossed it into my drawer.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Mariam? It’s me.” Naqiyah said. “We’re outside.”

“Ok, I’ll open now. I can’t get out of bed so just come to my room.”

I pressed the button on the old remote and saw the gate open slowly from my window. 

After a few minutes, Naqiyah walked in with her mother close behind.

“Aunty Nay!” I exclaimed when I saw Naqiyah’s mother. “How are you?”

Aunty Nay smiled at me and bent down to give me a warm hug. “Alhumdullillah. How are you, sweetheart? I was so worried about you!”

“Okay, I guess. Everything still hurts but I can feel like I’m healing.”

“Don’t scare us like that again. Naqiyah was in a state! You should have seen her.”

Naqiyah gave me a sheepish look. “I was terrified! I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost you. You’re my sister.”


A feeling of guilt overcame me. I wanted to get hurt but I didn’t realise that I had hurt the few people that actually cared about me. I smiled brightly. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that. I’m alive and almost well.”

•Chapter 16•

I chatted with Naqiyah and her mother well into the afternoon. They had brought me food so I had to force myself to eat.

Naqiyah’s mother had just taken the food to the kitchen when my mother called.

“Oh no! I forgot to call her!” I exclaimed.

“Who?” Naqiyah asked.

“My mother.” I held up a finger and answered. “Sorry Mum!”

My mum sighed. “I know it’s a few minutes earlier than the time you agreed to call but I was getting anxious.”

“I’m okay. And Naqiyah and her mother are here. They brought over some food too.”

“Oh good. You have a good friend, be grateful for her.”

I looked at Naqiyah and winked. “I know, she’s amazing and her family is amazing.”

I chatted to my mother for a few more moments before hanging up and turned to Naqiyah.

She looked at me with raised eyebrows. “What was that about?” She asked.

“My mum was just gushing about you.”

Naqiyah laughed. “I’m not that great, you know.”

“You are, now stop arguing with me. You’re going to stress me out.” I smiled wryly at her.

She rolled her eyes just as her mother walked in.

“What are you girls chatting about?”

“I was just telling Naqiyah not to stress me out. It’s not good for the whole healing process.”

Aunty Nay looked worriedly between the two of us before she realised that we were joking.

Before we knew it, two hours had sped by.

Aunty Nay looked at the time and exclaimed, “Oh wow! Look at the time. I didn’t realise it was getting so late.”

I glanced at the time. “Well, I don’t mind you being here. I didn’t have anything better to do.” I said.

Aunty Nay gave me an affectionate smile. “You take care of yourself, okay?”

She got up and started to gather her things. Naqiyah gave me a quick hug and just as she got up to leave, my mother’s greeting came from the door.

“Assalaamualaikum, how are you feel-” she stopped mid sentence. 

I looked up, ready to introduce my mother to Aunty Nay. But my mother’s jaw had dropped open as she stared at Aunty Nay. 

I glanced at Naqiyah with questioning eyes. She simply shrugged.

“Mum?” I coaxed.

She remained silent, barely moving. Maybe they knew each other.

Naqiyah gently tugged her mother’s arm. “You’re staring!” But her mother clearly didn’t hear her.

I started to get worried. What on earth was going on? Why were they so shocked to see each other? They were both literally frozen in place, neither of them daring to make a move.

As all these thoughts stumbled through my mind, I started to feel antsy. Just as I felt as if I was about to erupt in confusion, a small squeak came out of my mother’s mouth.

“Aneesa?” She asked, clearly gobsmacked. 

“Aneesa?” I asked, puzzled. Who on earth was Aneesa? I looked at Naqiyah.

“Tasneem?” The voice coming out of Aunty Nay’s mouth sounded nothing liked hers. She sounded scared, or maybe it was shock.

“You two know each other?” Naqiyah and I asked in unison.

A long, deafening silence stretched between the four of us. Naqiyah looked at me, worry etched on her face. 

“What’s going on?” She asked.

I shrugged. “Aneesa?” I asked again, wondering why my mother was calling Aunty Nay by another name. I always thought her name was Nazmeera or something.”

She pointed to her mother. “That’s her name.”

Suddenly, it hit me. Aneesa. Aneesa featured in my mother’s journal. 

Before my thoughts could go any further, my mother slowly made her way forward.

Instinctively, Aunty Nay moved back.

•Chapter 17•

My mother opened her arms and drew Aunty Nay in for a hug. Aunty Nay visibly stiffened but welcomed the hug. 

When my mother took a step back, there were tears evident in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry for everything,” she whispered. “Please, forgive me.”

Aunty Nay was speechless. She stared at my mother, completely confused. 

“What?” She asked.

“I’m so sorry.” My mother said.

Naqiyah and I stared at the ordeal, our mouths hanging open. 

“It’s okay.” Aunty Nay squeaked. Her phone rang and she started. Fumbling, she picked up the phone, sounding distant and confused.

She looked at my mother after hanging up. “I need to go.” She stammered.

“Can we arrange a coffee date?” My mother asked.

Aunty Nay nodded. “Naqiyah, we need to go.” She moved towards the door and stopped short. My mother quickly moved out of the doorway and Aunty Nay whizzed past. 

“Take care!” She called over her shoulder.

Naqiyah looked between me and her mother. “I’ll call you later. We’ll let ourselves out, just open the gate please.”

I gave her a small wave before she followed her mother. Within a few seconds, we heard the honk of the horn and I quickly pressed the button for the gate. 

I turned to look at my mother. She had a faraway look on her face. 

“Mum?”

She blinked, startled, and looked at me. “Hmm?”

“What was all that about?”

A forlorn sigh escaped her lips. “I’ll tell you during dinner.”

The moment my mother left to get dinner ready, I glanced around. I needed to find that journal. It didn’t help that I couldn’t move though. I tried to feel under the bed and an agonized cry escaped me.

Hopefully, my mother didn’t hear that. I waited for a few moments and when I didn’t hear her, I looked in the drawer beside me.

I knew that those were the journals I hadn’t read before. The ones I had already read were under my bed. Eventually, I gave up. 

I sighed and closed my eyes, trying to recall what my mother had said. 

My mother had bullied Aneesa the same way that Arifa bullied me.

When dinner time finally rolled around, my mother walked in with a tray. Two neatly rolled wraps were perched on the tray, along with a jug of water and two glasses.

My mother settled down and we began eating in silence. I placed the wrap down and looked at my mother expectantly.

Sensing my look, she glanced up and sighed. She put her wrap down and looked at me.

I didn’t say anything as I waited for her to speak. I knew that I didn’t need to prompt my mother. She looked like she was organising her thoughts.

After a few moments of silence, she started to speak. I listened quietly. 

She told me how she had bullied Aneesa and how cruel she was. Then she told me how she hated the person she used to be because that person had lacked basic compassion.

She paused and in that moment, I asked the one question that was bothering me. “Why?”

My mother looked up in surprise. “Why what?” She asked.

“Why did you bully her?”

She lowered her head in shame and when she spoke, her voice cracked. “I thought I was better than her, I thought that by hurting her, I was making others laugh. I thought that it was cool to make fun of her weight, of the way she looked. I was cruel. I was the worst human under the sun. I can’t imagine what I put her through.”

Her face blurred in front of me and her words went over my head. All I could feel was Aunty Nay’s pain. My heart broke for her, I knew exactly what she went through, what she felt. I could feel her hatred towards her bullies. I could feel her depression, her self loathing, her hatred for herself. And suddenly, I felt as if I knew her in a completely different way, as if I could connect with her.

“Mariam?” My mother shook my arm. “What’s wrong?”

“I know exactly how she felt!” I blurted out.

The look on my mother’s face made me regret my words. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“That had to mean something.”

“It’s nothing.”

“I can see it’s not nothing.”


And then I don’t know what went through me but I started talking. I told my mother almost every gory detail, leaving out the self hatred and self affliction. She didn’t need to know about that.

•Chapter 18•

When I finally finished talking, my mother’s body was shaking in uncontrollable sobs. For a long while, neither of us said anything, each caught up in our own thoughts.

Finally, my mother spoke. “I always thought that my daughter was never hurt the way I hurt others. I knew that what goes around comes around but you always made it seem as if life was a breeze, as if you were doing okay. I’m such a terrible mother. How did I not notice any of it?”

“You’re not a terrible mother, you’re an amazing mother and I only showed you what I wanted you to see.”

The tears started to pour down my mother’s face again. “How can I ever apologise to Aneesa?” 

“Just be sincere. That’s all.”

•

Later that week, my mother knocked gently on my door. She walked in, her face flushed and her eyes shining.

“What’s going on?”

“I just spoke to Aneesa. Alhumdullillah, she is the most amazing woman I have ever met. She forgave me even though I didn’t deserve it. She told me that she forgave me a long time ago. She never hated me for hurting her. I didn’t realise that such amazing women exist. She can’t be human, she has to be an angel.”

I smiled as my mother gushed about Aunty Nay. I knew that she’d forgive her. Naqiyah had begged her mother to tell her what had happened but Aunty Nay had refused. Instead, she told Naqiyah that she and my mother had never gotten along. I knew that Naqiyah didn’t believe her but I didn’t tell her the truth. After all, it wasn’t my story to tell. 

•

Months had passed and life was getting back to normal. I was back on my feet and my daily routine normalized. Everything was going okay until I met Arifa. 

I was at the garage and I had popped in the store for barely a minute in order to buy bread. I just got back to my car and was about to hop in when I heard tyres squealing. I turned around in horror and there was Arifa in a brand new, bright red convertible. She looked more beautiful than ever. There was something different about her face but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. 

“If it isn’t Mega Mariam!”

I opened my mouth, hoping to give her a smart retort but my tongue suddenly felt heavy. 

I had been going for therapy as per my mother’s orders. I thought that I had healed, that I’d be okay. I thought that if I ever saw Arifa again, I wouldn’t allow her to hurt me, I wouldn’t allow her to control me. But I had been so so wrong.

She hurled insults at me and every single healing brick that I had built was slashed away, falling wistfully to the ground. Every single piece of my mended heart started to shatter again. Every tear that I had shed suddenly felt as if it was drowning me.

I thought that Arifa no longer had control over me. I was so sure that she could no longer affect me. But every single feeling of self loathing, of depression, of self hatred came crashing back on me, burying me deep into its dark clutches.

I was drowning in hatred and my life jacket had floated away. 

Arifa continued to taunt me, tossing her glossy hair over her shoulder.

Time stood still and unwillingly, I allowed every single insult to pierce me, to infiltrate my head and bury itself into the deepest crevices of my mind.

I got home, a shell of the person I had been a mere hour ago. I was hurt, broken, completely and utterly shattered.

And almost as if by instinct, I made my way to the bathroom and undressed, staring at myself in absolute disgust. I grabbed a chunk of my tummy and twisted it until I crumpled to the ground, sobs shattering my entire body.

I was broken. I knew then, that I was completely broken. I could never be mended again. I could never build myself up again. 

I lunged for the cupboard, desperately searching for the sharpest object in my possession.

My hand curled around the piece of the mirror and I placed the cool metal against my skin and slowly  pushed the sharp point down, allowing it to split the thin skin. Blood gushed out and I closed my eyes, so pained that I couldn’t even feel anymore.

I did the same thing over and over again, making multiple jagged incisions along my wrists. I could feel myself getting lightheaded and suddenly my eyes shot open. I couldn’t let myself die. Or worse, if I survived, I’d have to explain this to my mother. I needed something absolute if I wanted death. 

But that was what plagued me. I didn’t know if I wanted death... Well I knew that I wanted it but then what? What happened after death? I knew the basics. I knew that you will be questioned for all of your actions, that you will be judged by Allah. But surely, Allah will understand why I want to die, right? 

I grabbed a towel and started to apply pressure to the wounds. I wanted death, I really did. But I was terrified of the unknown. 

And although death was so close, so close that I could feel it, I took a step back. After all, I wasn’t strong enough. Not even for death.

•Chapter 19•

After two hours, I had cleaned my wounds. I felt regret though. Why couldn’t I just kill myself and get it over with? Why did I have to be so damn afraid? 

I grabbed a banana from my room, willing myself to eat so that I wouldn’t faint from blood loss. I was  so two minded, so very confused.

I wanted to die and yet, here I was...trying not to die. 

I went back to the bathroom and stared at my body. Oh, how I hated myself. How I despised the woman staring back at me. 

Why did I ever have to be born? How was my existence ever required? What difference did my existence make? I was merely a toy, a person whose emotions were constantly toyed with.

I was angry with Allah. I questioned Him. Why was I born? Why? What was the need to create me? My existence was useless, pointless.

•

Weeks started to pass me by and I fell deeper into depression. But I had perfected the art of concealing my depression. To the outside world, I was happy. But inwardly, I knew...I just knew that my hatred was growing, that my need for death became more intense.

I pretended to be okay. But inside, I was completely broken.

And so I planned it. I began to plan my death. I started researching the easiest, quickest way.

I first needed to know what I wanted. Did I want to feel the pain? Did I want to suffer before I died? I did, I realised. I wanted to feel every bit of hatred towards myself. I wanted to hurt myself for not being good enough, for never being good enough.

I wanted to destroy every iota of happiness because I didn’t deserve happiness. I was created to be hated. 

So I decided to hang myself. It was gruesome, it was quick and it was painful. I’d never live to tell though, and that was perfectly fine. I didn’t need to live to tell this tale. I didn’t WANT to live to tell this morbid, sordid tale.

I bought the rope and I started to look for the perfect place. I couldn’t hang myself from something weak because if it would let out, I’d possibly survive. I didn’t want to survive. I wanted my life to end. Nothing could ever be as bad as how I currently felt.

My room would be the perfect place. I’d hang myself from the little metal hook in the corner of the ceiling in my room. I had tested it by tying the rope around my waist and hanging from there. It was perfect.

I started to write the letters I wanted to write to the important people in my life. I wrote a letter to my mother, to Naqiyah and to Naqiyah’s family. There really wasn’t anyone else in my life. 

•

The afternoon that I had planned for finally arrived. I laid out all the letters on my bed, ready to put an end to the life that I had hated for so long. 

I opened my top drawer to take out an envelope and my eyes fell on my mother’s journal. I hadn’t read this one yet. 

I pulled out the journal and listlessly paged through it. I started reading the first sentence and suddenly the words felt as if they were resonating within me. 

“Yunus’s death had struck me hard. It’s been over a year and sometimes I still scream in pain. But I look at my beautiful baby and I’m thankful that Allah blessed me with a part of Yunus. Mariam is perfect. I realised that even when life sucks, when it completely destroys you, there’s always ALWAYS  something good. And the love that I have for my daughter is something else. I lost love, but more love was created within me. I didn’t think that I’d love Mariam any more than I do but with every passing day, more love is created within me.”

I stared at the elegant scrawl that flowed across the page and felt a tear cascade down my cheek. I wasn’t emotional because of my mother’s love for me. I believed that wholeheartedly. But what really got to me, was that she found a reason to go on even when her whole world came crashing down. 

She was grateful and that’s when I realised that I was never grateful. I had never been thankful for my blessings. 

I slammed down my mother’s journal, irritated that I had to read that. I grabbed my cellphone and stared at the screen. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I could just end it all, I had planned it so perfectly but after everything that I had just read, I couldn’t do it, not yet anyway.

I scrolled through my social media, I had no friends. In fact my handle was random, not even Naqiyah knew that I used social media. I only used it to follow the news agencies and psychology experts.

But today, I decided to scroll through the explore page, I just needed to reboot my mind. I needed to remember what my end goal was.

I scrolled through various quotes when one caught my eye. I was going to ignore it and keep scrolling but for some reason, my thumb didn’t allow me to. I sighed and began to read:

“And He gives you of all that you ask Him; and if you count Allah's favors, you will not be able to number them; most surely man is very unjust, very ungrateful.” (Quran 14:34)

The caption under the picture stated,

“The mere fact that we have functioning bodies, is proof that we have been created in such a way, that our minds cannot fathom the intelligence behind it. We have been created so perfectly, so intrinsically, that the absence of a vital organ would be completely destructive.

So forget about everything you hate about yourself for just a second and think about everything that you DO have. You’re breathing, here, now and yet you still complain?”

I felt as if this was speaking to me directly. What were the odds that in a matter of minutes, I was suddenly directed to the topic of gratefulness? 

•Chapter 20•

I ended up visiting the profile that had the quote that stopped me in my tracks, my mind completely consumed by the beautiful words that my eyes landed upon.

The page was filled with beautiful Qur’aanic ayahs. Most of them having to do with gratefulness.

The next few beautiful ayahs demanded my attention, enveloping my heart, my soul, my mind, in the truth of the scriptures that had been revealed fourteen hundred years ago.

“Therefore remember Me. I will remember you. Be grateful to Me and never show me ingratitude.” (Quran 2:152)

The caption read, “Allah commands us to be grateful. As the sinful human beings that we are, we often tend to forget our blessings. And when times are tough, we start to question our Lord.”

The next ayah was equally beautiful, “Has there (not) been a long time when man was not even a mentionable thing. It is We who have created man out of a sperm-drop intermingled, so that We might test him. And therefore We have made him hearing and seeing. Surely We have guided him to the way (and it rests with him to prove himself) either grateful or ungrateful.” (Quran 76:1-3)

The caption was simple, “The above verse teaches us that we are nothing but mere mortals, and we have been given the choice to be grateful or ungrateful to our Creator.”

But it was the next two ayahs that shook me to my core. Suddenly my heart yearned to know more about the Qur’aan, to understand more.

“And when your Lord made it known: If you are grateful, I would certainly give to you more, and if you are ungrateful, My chastisement is truly severe.” (Quran 14:7)

“[Satan] said, “Because You have put me in error, I will surely sit in wait for them on Your straight path. Then I will come to them from before them and from behind them and on their right and on their left, and You will not find most of them grateful [to You].” (Quran 7:16-17)

The caption read, “Satan wants us to be ungrateful. It was all part of his plan. To make us ungrateful to our Lord! To lead us astray! To lead us into a darkness that Satan has decorated in order to seduce us!”

I stared at the words, completely compelled by the beauty, by the mere truth and the weight of the words.

Where had I been living all these years? Why had I not realised that maybe I was the problem? When last did I thank Allah for all that He had blessed me with? I don’t remember ever being thankful. Instead, I always pitied myself, I played the victim. I drowned in self pity and where did it get me? In the darkest pits of sadness.

I scrolled down the page and a beautiful Hadith grabbed my attention, Ayesha (RA) said that the Prophet (SAW) used to pray at night until his feet would swell. She asked, “Why do you do this, O Messenger of God, when God has forgiven your past and future sins?” The Prophet (SAW) replied, “Should I not be a grateful servant (Of God)?” (Sahih Bukhari)

If the very man that the earth was created for, the very man who God had given such a status to, so much so that his name rested next to the Lord of the Universes and all that it contains, if he thanked his Lord, then who was I? How could I not be grateful?

Deep down I knew what the problem was. I searched everywhere for the key to happiness when it was lying right in front of me. I just had to turn to Allah. But I’m nothing more than a human, all I know how to do is err.

I placed my phone down and stared at the rope that was hanging from the ceiling. It dangled enticingly, whispering my name with the slight sway. 

I walked over to it, and yanked it off the hook. Not today, I couldn’t do this just yet.

I took the letters and shoved them in my drawer. I felt as if I needed to start over, to press the reboot button on life and start from the beginning. But alas! There was no way that I could go back in time.

•

For the next few weeks, I felt myself slip into a depression again. I tried learning more about Islam, I prayed more than I had ever prayed in my life and yet, I just felt myself drowning, unable to resurface. I couldn’t find that connection with my Lord. 

I felt as if I had slipped too far and now there was no way I could get out. I was too much of a sinner to ever be forgiven and gain closeness to Allah.

I researched depression in Islam, and most views just highlighted what a bad Muslim I was, that my Iman was weak. I felt myself sink deeper into a depression.

I felt the hope that had ignited within my heart go dark, I was stuck in this terrible world and I felt doomed forever.

I started to contemplate suicide again. And as each day passed, I sunk deeper into depression. The prospect of not having to deal with another day started to sound alluring again.

What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I just be normal and live a normal life? Why did I have to hurt so much? I couldn’t understand what was happening to me. 

And just when I felt that I had had enough, that I could not go on like this, that I had to rid this world of myself, my mother and Naqiyah came to the rescue.

Neither of them knew what I was afflicted with. 

I felt like I could no longer keep up the fake facade that I was fine, that I was happy, but I did.

•Chapter 21•

Naqiyah and Aunty Nay came over to visit. Aunty Nay and my mother had actually formed a beautiful relationship over the last few months. In fact, they had noticed that they had a lot more in common than they realised.

“Did you hear about that motivational speaker who’s coming to town? Naqiyah and I already decided that we’re going to go. You and Mariam should come.” Aunty Nay told my mother.

Naqiyah turned to me. “Apparently she’s an Islamic motivational speaker. I heard she’s amazing. You and Aunty Tasneem should definitely come!”

My mother turned to me. “We’ll definitely be there. Mariam, you don’t have a choice.”

I was annoyed with Naqiyah and my mother, and even Aunty Nay. Why did they have to force me to go to a motivational talk? I didn’t want any motivation! I didn’t NEED any motivation!

But I didn’t realise that that was exactly what I needed. 

We all headed off to the local masjid and a group of women were already gathered there. I realised that I barely knew any of them. I wasn’t spiritually in touch with anything, not even my Lord. 

The motivational speaker didn’t seem to have arrived yet, so I followed my mother to the front of the room and took a seat on the floor. 

As I was chatting to Naqiyah, I noticed a woman, completely covered make her way to the front of the room. She greeted us softly, her voice somewhat melodious. She clutched various books in her arms before she gently laid them down in front of her. 

Slowly, she removed her niqab and I almost gasped in awe. She was a beautiful, African lady. Her skin looked like smooth dark chocolate and there was a brightness about her that I couldn’t quite name. 

When I had pictured a motivational speaker, I had pictured someone dressed in skinny jeans, killer heels and a turban hijab. 

“Assalaamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatu.” She greeted.

The ladies chorused back in a soft monotone.

At first, I barely heard what she was saying, I was so blown away by her beauty that I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her striking face. 

But when she said, “People will say that your Iman is weak when you say you’re depressed, but that’s not true,” my mind jerked awake and I found her staring straight at me.

She smiled and her eyes left my face as she continued to speak. “It is completely normal to be depressed, don’t become despondent and don’t start to believe that you’re stuck because you were told that your Iman is too weak. Because that, my dear sisters, THAT will lead you into a deeper depression. Get yourself professional help if need be and simultaneously, turn to Allah! Find solace in Allah’s mercy, in His promises, in His beautiful words. Ask Him to help you, to guide the therapist or the psychologist or whoever it may be, to help you. Wallahi, my dear sisters, Allah will never forsake you. He understands the conflict of the heart because He is the One who created the Heart! How can we doubt for a single second that He has forsaken us? That He has left us to fend for ourselves in this big, bad world? Allah is here for us, He will always be here for us, but we have to go to Him. And when you take one step towards Him, He will take ten steps towards you, when you go walking towards Him, He will run to you. Such is our Lord...

And yet, we fail to understand, to realise His infinite mercy! Allah created every emotion, every feeling, every single thing. He created it all. He created the feeling of depression but He also created the antidote. He created the cure, he guides us. 

You know, there’s a saying that says that ‘life came with an instruction manual, it’s called the Qur’aan.’ And this is so so true!

When Adam AS was created, was he created for this world or Jannah? Jannah, of course! He was a human and he was created for heaven. So are we not created for heaven? Are humans not created for heaven? But we have been placed in this world, on this earth, as a test. 

And this world comes with sorrow, with depression, with sadness and grief. So if you ever feel depressed, don’t despair. Seek medical help, you’re allowed to. Depression is a medical condition. Just because you cannot see it, it doesn’t mean that it’s not there. When someone breaks his leg, do we just tell him to read the Qur’aan? To turn to Hadith? Or do we take him to the doctor as well? Of course we take him to the doctor! So why can’t we treat depression as a medical condition that requires medical help?

And with that, with the medical help, we pair it with the Qur’aan, the Hadith, and with our prayers.

But at the same time, we need to always remember that Allah has given these professionals knowledge, He is the one that allows them to help us in the way that they do. It is not them alone, it can never be them alone. Had it not been for Allah, these professionals would never be able to help us!”

She spoke for a long time. As she began to wrap up, I looked at the time and realised that it was two hours later. I had been so encapsulated by her words, the words that only Allah could inspire, that I hadn’t felt the two hours fly by. 

As we walked out of the masjid , I told my mother that I’d catch up with them.

“I’ll come with you,” Naqiyah offered.

“No, don’t worry. I thing I forgot something. I’ll be back in a minute.”

I walked back in and noticed that the room had cleared out. Only Mualima Khadija was there, the motivational speaker. I needed to speak to her. 

“Assalaamualaikum,” I greeted softly. “Mualima Khadija?”

She looked up and flashed me a bright smile! “Ukhti! What can I do for you?”

“I need advice.”

“Sure. What’s wrong?”

“Can I maybe set up some time with you? If you’re free that is. If not, then it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’re probably really busy in any case. I’m so sor-”

“Ukhti,” she gave me a gentle smile. “I would love to set up some time with you to talk. Take down my number and we can meet for a coffee or something? You decide.”

I smiled at her and impulsively, I gave her a hug.


She returned my hug with warmth and greeted me before I dashed out of there.

•Chapter 22•

Later that week, I met Mualima Khadija at a small coffee shop. 

We started off with small chit chat and before I knew it, I was pouring my heart out to her. She listened attentively, without interrupting me. I found myself sobbing, burying my face in my hands, breathless and even speechless at times. I told her everything, even all about my self harm and my suicidal thoughts. I told her things that I had never mentioned out loud.

She didn’t flinch, she didn’t gasp in shock. She just listened. And when I was finally finished, she took my hand in hers and started to speak. 

She told me that just because I was feeling that way, it didn’t mean that I was doomed...that such was life, that although there’s sorrow in this world,  there’s also happiness and Allah will always ALWAYS be there for you. She told me to be grateful, something I had known and read but when she repeated the same verses that I had read, the verses struck me harder than it ever had.

“Therefore remember Me. I will remember you. Be grateful to Me and never show me ingratitude.” (Quran 2:152)

“Has there (not) been a long time when man was not even a mentionable thing. It is We who have created man out of a sperm-drop intermingled, so that We might test him. And therefore We have made him hearing and seeing. Surely We have guided him to the way (and it rests with him to prove himself) either grateful or ungrateful.” (Quran 76:1-3)

“And when your Lord made it known: If you are grateful, I would certainly give to you more, and if you are ungrateful, My chastisement is truly severe.” (Quran 14:7)

“[Satan] said, “Because You have put me in error, I will surely sit in wait for them on Your straight path. Then I will come to them from before them and from behind them and on their right and on their left, and You will not find most of them grateful [to You].” (Quran 7:16-17)

Then she mentioned the very Hadith that I had read before, Ayesha (RA) said that the Prophet used to pray at night until his feet would swell. She asked, “Why do you do this, O Messenger of God, when God has forgiven your past and future sins?” The Prophet replied, “Should I not be a grateful servant (Of God)?” (Sahih Bukhari)

Her explanations were beautiful. “Do we not realise that Allah Ta’ala wants us to be grateful? And when we are, He will give us more. How amazing is that? Allah has given us everything, absolutely everything. Every breath is a blessing from Him, it’s a mercy. And yet, we cannot even say thank you my Lord. We complain because we’re flawed humans. Satan wants us to be ungrateful, to complain.”

She spoke with such love and such passion for her religion that it made me want to start trying harder. I needed to be a better muslim.

“We’re human. We’re not perfect,” she continued. We’ll only be perfect in Jannah. Not in this world. There are so many things we’d change about ourselves because society has defined perfection. But there is nothing such as perfection on this earth. That’s all in Jannah.

Society says that having a tiny waist is beautiful, society says that an hourglass figure is ideal, society bombards us with pictures of skinny women on the catwalk and we start to believe that that is what we’re supposed to look like. But why do we keep listening to this society? The very society that laughs at our beliefs? The very society that targets us because of our beliefs?

Did you know that in some countries, their society has defined beauty differently? For them, larger women are the definition of beauty? Skinny women are seen as unattractive in those societies.  Can you imagine how the thinner women in those countries feel? They believe that they are imperfect because that’s what their society has drilled into their minds.

No wonder we’re so unhappy! Satan fuels our minds with these ridiculous thoughts.

At the end of the day, why does this world matter in any case? Jannah is waiting for us. Let’s make that our ultimate goal.”

I stared at her in awe, my mind soaking in every word of hers. I made an intention within those few minutes that I was going to try harder. I had been on the right path. Allah had guided me but I had walked the other way because I had been too consumed by my own darkness. 

The only way to cure depression was to use Islam as a basis. Thereafter, medical attention was required. But, I had forgotten about my deen. I had been so wrapped up in my own thoughts which were fueled by the devil, that my mind could not accommodate the purity of the Qur’aan.

I spoke to Mualima Khadija for a long time. She suggested that we should have a weekly catch up and I should seek medical attention. 

For the first time in forever, I felt hopeful. I felt renewed. I wanted to become a better person, a better version of myself. 

I couldn’t get medical help without prayer and I couldn’t just pray without making the effort to seek medical help. 

I cleared my mind of everything. All those articles that had suggested that I was in darkness because of my Iman started to dissipate, releasing my mind of its toxins. 

Islam is not and has never been a cruel religion. Yet, sometimes people keep telling us things that can make us believe otherwise. Islam is a religion of purity, peace and perfection. Islam has all of our answers, we just need to search for them.

•Chapter 23•

It wasn’t easy. It was a long, spirally road. But I persevered.

I spoke to my mother and my best friend. I told them almost everything and I started to religiously attend all of my therapy sessions.

Therapy coupled with a weekly catch up session with Mualima Khadija, as well as my amazing support structure, started to make an enormous difference in my life.

I could feel the difference in my life. I started praying every prayer of mine. I started making dua, holding complete faith in my heart. I made an effort to concentrate in my salaah’s, to hand over all my problems to Allah, whilst I was wrapped up in the most beautiful conversations with him.

With every “Allahu Akbar” in the beginning of my salaah, I felt as if I was tossing the old me behind me, casting it away and moving forward. With every “Allahu Akbar” I recited in my prayer, I felt a new wave of energy, a new sense of purpose.

I didn’t pray just because I had to. I knew that with that attitude, my prayers would be insincere. Instead, I prayed with my whole heart, I prayed because those few moments when I was wrapped in prayer, I was completely content, I was speaking to the Greatest of all, I was speaking to Allah.

I started to feel the difference in my life. Initially, it had shocked me. I had never truly believed what a difference faith could make in my life. I had heard stories about people falling in love with their religion but I had thought it was nothing more than a fallacy, used as a tool to attract people that had weak faith. 

But here I was, completely consumed by my faith. I was no longer a shell of a person, I was almost whole, I was working towards becoming a better person, a better me. 

•

I adjusted the hijab that was perched on my head and grabbed my car keys.

“Assalaamualaikum,” I greeted my mother, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. “I’m heading over to Naqiyah’s.”

“Okay sweetheart, give Aunty Nay my salaams. Please tell her not to forget about next week.”

“Sure.” My mother had invited Naqiyah’s family over for dinner next week and she was super excited about it. It was so beautiful to see my mum and Aunty Nay’s friendship blossom. The two were best friends.

I headed over to Naqiyah’s and realised that I hadn’t visited her since the accident, which was almost over a year. I didn’t have to because Naqiyah was always over by my house.

“Assalaamualaikum!” I greeted her with a wide smile and gave her a tight hug. “This is for you.” I handed her the box of blueberry cookies that I had made.

She opened it and took a sniff. “These smell amazing! Now come on in! You haven’t been over in ages.”

I walked in and greeted her father who was sitting in his office, the door open.

He gave me a welcoming smile and greeted me.

We made our way to the sitting room and I settled on the plush leather couch.

“Dad has been asking about you.” Naqiyah said. “He said that your absence was missed. So don’t do that again!”

I was just about to reply when Yusuf barged in. 

“Well if it isn’t the most talked about person in the Seedat household!”

I smiled at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I teased.

“Do you have any idea how much we missed you? You were probably our favourite topic of conversation.”

Naqiyah glared at him. “Well, you didn’t even visit her after she got out of hospital.”

He looked slightly guilty. “Sorry about that Mariam. Life got so hectic. With a new job and adjusting to the real world, things got crazy.”

“And with that new girlfriend of his.” Naqiyah muttered under her breath.

My head snapped towards her. 

“She’s not my girlfriend, you airhead!” Yusuf threw one of the scatter cushions at his sister and she ducked. “She’s my mentor at work. And she’s so much older than me.”

“So?” Naqiyah smirked. “You know that there’s nothing wrong with that right? Khadija (RA) married a man that was so much younger than him.”

Yusuf sighed. “I know. But I’m not going to entertain this. I work with her, that’s all. And besides I don’t even find her attractive. Now stop disrupting me. I came to talk to Mariam.”

“Too bad. She’s my friend and I invited her over. Now go away.”

“Before you do,” I began, “I made blueberry cookies for you.”

“I thought they were for me?” Naqiyah said.

“They’re for all of you.” I replied.

“Well, you know with Yusuf around, none of us are going to get any right?”

Yusuf returned with the box of cookies. He had already scarfed one down and he was busy on the next one. “Gosh, these are so amazing. I need an unlimited supply of these.”

“So why don’t you marry Mariam?” Naqiyah asked as she studied her nails.

I spluttered and coughed, the blood rushing to my face.

“Maybe I should.” Yusuf replied.

I almost fainted. Marriage? I hadn’t ever thought about marriage. 

“That’s not even funny!” I said hotly. 

“Relax, it was just a joke.” Naqiyah said. “Take it easy.”

After a few more minutes, Yusuf gave a slight wave and sauntered off.

I turned to Naqiyah. “Why’d you have to do that?”

She shrugged. “Don’t pretend that there’s no chemistry between you two.”

My eyes widened. “Chemistry? What on earth are you talking about?”

“The way you stare at my brother. You think that’s the same look you give me?”


I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

•Chapter 24•

I couldn’t stop thinking about what Naqiyah said. Apparently I looked at Yusuf in a certain way? There was chemistry between us? I was convinced that she was crazy but I started to wonder if there was truth to what she said.

There was no doubt about the fact that I thought that Yusuf was handsome. He was. But that’s all. Oh, and he was the sweetest male I had ever spoken to me. But then again, males didn’t really speak to me and that was completely fine. It had never bothered me.

Yusuf had accepted me as part of the family with open arms, so maybe he thought about me as a sister.

“Maybe I should.” The words he had spoken earlier rang in my ear. What did he mean? Maybe he should what? Surely he couldn’t have even joked about marrying me.

I grimaced at my trail of thoughts and went to my prayer mat. I didn’t want to think of futile things. If Allah had marriage planned for me, then it would happen. I didn’t need to dwell on things that didn’t matter. But I was human and I was flawed. Who would want to marry me in any case? I wasn’t exactly a vision. 

I closed my eyes for a few seconds and repeated the verse, “Therefore remember Me. I will remember you. Be grateful to Me and never show me ingratitude.” 

I couldn’t allow Satan to tell me that I was ugly because that would lead to me being ungrateful. I couldn’t allow that to happen. Not again.

I repeated the verse in English and then in Arabic. I repeated it loudly, over and over again, until the beautiful Arabic words calmed my soul. When I opened my eyes, my mother was standing in the doorway, her mouth open in shock.

“What?” I asked her, completely confused.

“That was beautiful. Read it again.”

I read it again and looked at her. “The words are beautiful.”

My mother nodded. “And so is the way you recite it.”

I stared at her, completely dumbfounded. “Huh?”

“Have you never listened to yourself? Read it again and listen to your voice!” 

I shook my head. “Mum...”

“Just do it!”

I sighed and closed my eyes. I recited the words again and my eyes flew open in shock. I had never really listened to my voice before. It actually sounded pretty good.

“You should become a hafidha,” Mum said. “With a voice like yours, you absolutely have to.”

My mother didn’t need to convince me. I had thought about it for a long time and this was exactly the push I needed. “I think I will.” I said.

After I prayed, I grabbed a journal and made a to do list. I needed to finish my studying but the accident had really placed me in an unfavourable condition. I would probably have to repeat everything because I had missed the most crucial tests. If I was going to repeat the year, I might as well change my course. I wanted to study psychology, but not because I wanted to know why people were cruel, but to help others like me.

I went to my mother and asked for her advice. She completely supported me and I felt hopeful. Maybe I could make a difference after all.

Later that evening, I took out the Qur’aan and I began to recite. I listened to my voice and the calming words. The beauty of the words made my voice sound beautiful, I was sure of that. But I knew that Allah had given me a gift. I just needed to use it.

•

Friday evening rolled around and Mum and I had spent a good portion of the day preparing for the dinner with Naqiyah’s family. Mum had taken leave for the day and her excited mood was infectious.

I had just put the finishing touches on the dessert and I turned around. “Is there anything else left to do?” I asked.

My mother looked around. “Think we’re done.” She peered at the desserts. “That looks delicious! What is it?”

“Blueberry cookie crumble with blueberry mousse and fresh cream.”

She took a spoonful and closed her eyes. “Wow! It’s amazing!” 

I smiled at her. “Well, I’m going to get ready.”

She nodded and I headed upstairs to get ready.

After a short shower, I slipped on a dark blue dress. It didn’t hug me so it was perfect.

I looked at the contact lenses that I barely ever wore. Maybe I should make an exception for today. I was feeling good. I popped them on, tied my hijab and stepped back. I smiled happily. I didn’t look too bad. I was finally in a good place. Alhumdullillah.

After I was done getting ready, I went in search of my mother. She took one look at me and squealed in delight.

“You look so beautiful!” She exclaimed.

I smiled at her compliment. “JazakAllah. You look beautiful as usual.”

She smiled at me just as the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it.” I offered.

I opened the gate from the inside and went to the door, flinging it open.

Naqiyah greeted me first. She then took a step back and a huge grin broke out onto her face. 

“You look lovely! I’ve never noticed how beautiful your eyes were! That dress just brings them out.”

I smiled shyly. “Thank you, beautiful.”

Aunty Nay came up to me and planted a kiss on my cheek before heading into the house.

Naqiyah’s father then walked in and gave me a polite greeting and a smile.

“Where’s Yusuf?” I asked Naqiyah.

She peered over her shoulder. “He was just behind me.”

Just then Yusuf made his way out of the car and greeted me with a smile. He had a bunch of roses in his hands. “Can’t come empty handed, right?” He winked at me and I rolled my eyes.

We followed Yusuf into the house and watched as he handed my mother the flowers. He was the perfect gentleman.

“Stop it!” I silently reprimanded myself. Yusuf was my best friend’s brother, nothing more.

•Chapter 25•

The evening went by without a glitch. Yusuf, Naqiyah and I were sitting outside on the patio. I was about to get up to get the dessert when Naqiyah offered.

“Relax, I’ll do it. You already did so much, you might as well take a minute.”

“I’ll help you,” I offered.

“Don’t be silly. I’ll be back in a second.”

“Okay, just nozzle some fresh cream on it, please.”

I turned around and settled back on the lounge chair. I could feel Yusuf’s gaze on me so I turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

“What?” I asked.

“You have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.”

I stared at him, completely speechless. His gaze was intense. I shifted uncomfortably. “Ummm...”

“You’re beautiful, you know. Inside and out.”

Okay, I had to be dreaming. What on earth was going on? I looked around me, willing myself to get up. But I wasn’t dreaming.

“You need to stop believing that you’re not beautiful.” His voice was just above a whisper. “You really-”

Naqiyah cleared her throat and handed each of us a bowl. 

“So what is this?” She asked, gesturing to the bowl.

I nervously cleared my throat. I didn’t know if she had heard what had just happened and she was acting oblivious or she had genuinely not heard anything.

“Blueberry cookie crumble with blueberry mousse.” I replied, my voice sounding shaky.

Yusuf smacked his lips together, pretending to act completely normal. So maybe I had imagined the whole thing.

“That sounds simply delicious!” He exclaimed before digging in. He had just taken a bite before he paused, his eyes wide.

“What?” I asked worriedly. “Is it bad?” 

“Hmm... This is the most amazing thing I have ever tasted in my entire life.” He said.

I breathed a sigh of relief. “You had me worried for a second.”

Naqiyah took a bite and her reaction mimicked her brother’s. I was glad that they enjoyed it.

We sat quietly for a while, each wrapped up in our own thoughts. Yusuf’s phone started ringing and he got up to take it.

Naqiyah turned to me. “So? What was my brother telling you?” She asked.

I shrugged. “I think I was imagining things, so don’t ask me.”

She frowned. “I could’ve sworn I heard him tell you though.”

“Tell me what?”

“What do you think you imagined?”

I ducked my face in embarrassment. “Nothing,” I muttered.

“Did he not say something about how beautiful you are?”

I stared at her in surprise. Could it have been my imagination if my best friend heard it too? “I don’t know.” I said nonchalantly.

Naqiyah sighed loudly just as Yusuf came back. “Okay, I’ve had enough!” She exclaimed.

“Yusuf, are you going to tell her?”

“I tried to,” he said. “But you interrupted me.”

“Well then I’m just going to say it!”

At this point I was extremely confused. What on earth were the two siblings talking about?

“Mariam, my brother likes you.”

I stared at her in confusion. “Well, I like him too. He’s your brother, after all.”

“No, I mean he LIKES you.”

I just stared at her, my mind not comprehending what she was saying.

“Oh for goodness sake Mariam! He has feelings for you!”

My mouth dropped open and my eyes found Yusuf’s. He was staring at me with that same intense expression. I was sure I was dreaming at this point.

“Well, can you say something?” Naqiyah pressed.

“What?” I asked, my mind refusing to cooperate.

“I like you, Mariam. I’ve liked you for a very long time.” Yusuf said softly.

“But how?” I blurted out. “WHY?”

“Because you’re an amazing person!” Naqiyah said in exasperation. “You’re beautiful on the inside and the outside! Why can you not see that?”

“Beautiful?” I repeated dumbly.

“Yes! You keep thinking that you’re not, even after I told you a million times. And I told you about Sumayya-”

It dawned on me then. “You feel guilty.” I said to Yusuf. “You think I’m Sumayya’s replacement.”

His face contorted in pain and he opened his mouth but no words came out.

“That’s not fair, Mariam.” Naqiyah said in annoyance. 

I watched Yusuf’s face which was full of hurt and suddenly, I felt terrible.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered. “But you can’t blame me for thinking that.”

Naqiyah sighed loudly. “Listen, Mariam. I do understand why you’d think that. You grew up believing that no one likes you and no matter how many therapy sessions you go for, you’ll ask yourself for a very long time if people are being genuine. I get it. You’ve been hurt many times. But that’s exactly why you should believe my brother. He is nothing but sincere. And I asked him the same question. I asked him if he was sure, if it wasn’t guilt.”

I turned to Yusuf and saw the sincerity in his eyes. But how could he ever like me? A man like him didn’t want a girl like me.

His eyes met mine. “It’s true,” he whispered. “I wouldn’t tell you if I wasn’t absolutely sure.”

I gaped at him, completely confused. WHAT WAS HAPPENING?

“Why?” I asked. I honestly had nothing else to say. 

“Because he sees beauty in you.” Naqiyah piped up.

“But you were teasing him with someone just the other day!” 

“To see your response.”

“Hello? I’m still here.” Yusuf said 

I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I just need to think right now.”

I headed to my room and collapsed on the bed. What had just happened?

•Chapter 26•

I woke up the next morning and the first thought that came to me was whether I had dreamt about the occurrences of the previous night. During Fajr, I had been too wrapped up in my prayers that I hadn’t bothered thinking about what had happened.

I stared at the ceiling, replaying everything in my head. Surely it had been a dream, right? I sighed and looked at the time on my phone. There was a message from Naqiyah.

“Sorry about last night hun, I’m sure you were pretty shocked. I’ll come over later and explain? Love you.”

So it hadn’t been a dream. It was real, all real. But how? Why?

I quickly replied to her message and told her that I’d see her later. She needed to give me an explanation because nothing was making sense at the moment. 

I looked at the time and realised that I had to meet Mualima Khadija in less than an hour. I quickly got ready, greeted my mother and rushed out of the house.

Today I’d be meeting her at her house. I greeted her with a smile and gave her a quick hug before we settled down. After some casual talk, I told her about my desire to become a hafidha.

“That’s amazing Ukhti! I fully support you. In fact, I  can refer you to a friend of mine. She’s brilliant. Most of her students memorized the Qur’aan in six months. But it’s up to you as to how long you’d like to take.”

I smiled at her. “That’s perfect actually.”

“So what made you want to pursue this?”

“My mother. She heard me reciting Qur’aan the other day and she couldn’t stop going on about how I recite it. So when she suggested it, I knew that becoming a hafidha was something I definitely wanted.

“You have to recite for me!”

“No-”

“Come on! Please?”

I sighed. “I don’t know if I’m any good but maybe getting another opinion will be a good idea.” I closed my eyes and began to recite the same ayahs that she had recited to me. They were the same ones that I had immediately memorized.

“Therefore remember Me. I will remember you. Be grateful to Me and never show me ingratitude.” (Quran 2:152)

I paused, my eyes still closed and recited the next ayah and another two after that.

“Has there (not) been a long time when man was not even a mentionable thing. It is We who have created man out of a sperm-drop intermingled, so that We might test him. And therefore We have made him hearing and seeing. Surely We have guided him to the way (and it rests with him to prove himself) either grateful or ungrateful.” (Quran 76:1-3)

“And when your Lord made it known: If you are grateful, I would certainly give to you more, and if you are ungrateful, My chastisement is truly severe.” (Quran 14:7)

“[Satan] said, “Because You have put me in error, I will surely sit in wait for them on Your straight path. Then I will come to them from before them and from behind them and on their right and on their left, and You will not find most of them grateful [to You].” (Quran 7:16-17)

Eventually I opened my eyes.

“I didn’t read them in order but-”

“Wow...” Mualima Khadija breathed. “Just...wow! That was phenomenal.”

“Really? You really think so?”

“I know so. Masha Allah. You have an amazing talent.”

“I wish I had known earlier. Maybe life would have panned out differently.”

“Or maybe everything happened exactly how it should have so that you could walk this very path. Allah does what is best, even when we can’t understand it.”

I smiled. “So... I was thinking of changing my degree. I want to study psychology. I want to help people out there like me.”

Mualima Khadija clasped her hands together. “That’s a great idea! We need more Muslim psychologists out there. We need people that will incorporate deen with mental health treatment.”

We spoke a little while longer about psychology and the need for it. I could no longer keep that which was plaguing me in though.

“There’s something else that’s bothering me.”

“And what is that?”

“So Naqiyah’s brother, Yusuf, kind of said he liked me yesterday. I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know if I believe him!”

“Ukhti, you know it is haraam to have a romantic relationship without marriage, right?”

“I know that. And I’ve never been one to have boyfriends. After all, I was considered as the ugly duckling. Males wouldn’t even look at me. So I was never interested. I was always afraid that they’d just tease me.”

“It’s good that you didn’t have any boyfriends. Most girls your age cannot attest to that statement.” She sighed. “It’s a tough one. Are you ready for marriage?”

“Marriage?” I sputtered. “I’ve never ever thought about marriage.”

“Maybe you should. You are of a marriageable age now.”

“But I’m not ready!”

“Ukhti, what do you need to be ready for? Commitment? You’re one of the most committed people I know. Responsibilities? You’re more responsible than most girls your age.”

“I can’t study and do hifdhs and get married. It’s too much.”

“Think about it. Make istikhara. Ask Allah to help you. But don’t enter into a haraam relationship.”


I nodded. I really had to think about this long and hard.

•Chapter 27•

When Naqiyah came over, she could see that I was preoccupied with my own thoughts.

“I guess we’re the reason for that frown?” She asked delicately.

I glanced at her. “What? Sorry. My mind is elsewhere.”

“Let’s talk about it. I know you well enough to know what’s bothering you.”

I sighed. “I’m going to speak to you as my best friend. I’m going to pretend for now that you don’t have a brother named Yusuf.”

She smiled. “That’s exactly what I was going to suggest. In fact, tell me exactly what’s bothering you. And you can pretend that I know nothing because I wasn’t here last night.”

“Okay, but don’t interrupt me until I’m done.”

“Fine. I’ll be completely quiet.”

“Even if you don’t like what I’m saying.”

“But-”

“Promise me. Otherwise we won’t be able to have a decent conversation.”

“Okay fine! I promise.”

I relayed the scene from last night. “Anyway, I just didn’t believe it, you know. After all, I was always bullied. I was called names. I was told that I’m fat and ugly. I believed it all. I believed it to such an extent, that that’s how I started seeing myself. People complimented me in school just so that they could crush me at a later stage. I told you what had happened before. So when anyone compliments me at all, I always think that they have a hidden agenda. And you can’t blame me for it. I look at myself and I don’t consider myself beautiful. For a long time, I thought I was hideous. Alhumdullillah, I’ve worked through that but I still don’t see beauty in me. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to. So when you tell me that my eyes are beautiful or that I look beautiful, I just think you’re saying it out of courtesy.”

Naqiyah looked like she was about to say something but I looked at her pointedly. “You promised not to say anything, remember?” She pouted but reclined in her seat. I continued, “When Yusuf made the statement that I’m beautiful on the inside and the outside, I thought I was hearing things. I mean why would your handsome brother like me? Just an ugly duckling? A plain Jane? He had girls like Arifa literally drooling over him. He has girls that look like models throwing themselves at him. And don’t tell me that it’s not true. I’ve seen it happen. I’ve heard girls go on about him. I can’t understand what he sees in me. And besides, if he likes me, what does he want to do about it? Date me? You know I don’t do that.”

Naqiyah looked ready to jump up in her seat. She was clearly struggling to keep everything she had to say in. “Can I speak now?” She asked.

“Yes, I’m done.”

“Yusuf did not just blurt out something at the spur of the moment. He didn’t just say it because of the ambiance or whatever. He said it because he thought about it. Do you know that we’d tease him with you for months? When you were in the hospital, my brother was in a state. He talked about you constantly. He noticed little things about you. He constantly asked me if you were okay, if you were going through anything. Anyway, he didn’t just blurt out feelings that he suddenly developed.

And you do realise that looks and outward beauty do not define a person, right? My brother is unfazed by those cover magazine girls. He cares about what’s on the inside. He’s a major softie, he’s full of emotional connections and not physical attractions. After he met you, he just felt a connection. And every time he spent time with you, he fell for your heart, for your kindness, for your soft soul. You may not think that outwardly you’re beautiful but everyone around you knows that you are. You have stunning features but how does that even matter? You have a beautiful heart and that’s what counts. Outer beauty won’t last. Besides, all those girls that are throwing themselves at Yusuf? They’re the same girls that society has defined as beautiful. Just because they look like models. And what are models? Yet another detail that society has defined. If society told us that voluptuous women were model material, do you think that those girls would be seen as attractive? No. So forget what society is saying and defining. What really matters is the person you are on the inside. Your character matters. After all, our beloved Nabi (SAW) said, as narrated in Bukhari, “The best amongst you are those who have the best manners and character.” He didn’t say the best amongst you are those who are the most physically beautiful. Allah gives physical beauty and He takes it. So we cannot complain about how we look. Allah decided how we look. We must just be grateful that He has blessed us with so much. But I’m not here to lecture you about that because you know that. I’m just here to explain what happened last night. Yusuf is serious about you. He used the word ‘like’ but it’s so much more than that.”

I looked at her with my mouth hanging open. “What?”

“What part are you asking about?”

“That last part. What do you mean it’s more than like.”

“That part you will have to discuss with him. But my brother is serious about you. He knows you don’t date. He wants to speak to you about this.”

“Are you sure he thinks I’m beautiful?”

“If you’re worried about your outer appearance, you really don’t have to worry. Yesterday, he couldn’t stop speaking about your eyes. He thinks you’re one of the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. But that’s not what really appeals to him. It’s your heart, the person you are.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“Well I know you like my brother. What I don’t know is how much and it what way. Do you even find him attractive? I know you’ve called him handsome but apart from that? Do you like his character?”

I remained silent for a long time. I knew that I had always liked Yusuf. He was gorgeous but what had really struck me was that he was incredibly caring. No other male had spoken to me the way he had. I hadn’t actually thought about REALLY liking him or anyone else for that matter. 

“I always liked him - but more in the sense that he was a great friend. I didn’t think about him with a relationship in mind. I do find him attractive though, no doubt about that. But more so, I find him caring. From what I know, he has an amazing heart.”

“Are you willing to have a serious conversation with him?”

“Before I answer that. Are you sure it’s not about him feeling better about himself because of what happened with Sumayya. You were going to say something last night about her but I interrupted you.”

“It’s not that. I promise you.” Naqiyah thought for a moment. “I think I was going to say that Sumayya never saw herself as beautiful but everyone else did, even though she had been bullied at school. Her bullies were cruel kids who did not understand the definition of beauty.”

•Chapter 28•

Naqiyah and I had a long conversation. I told her that I needed to think about having a serious conversation with Yusuf. But first, I needed to speak to my mother. 

I kind of knew what I wanted to do but I still wasn’t sure. Who knew that something that I had viewed as positive would be such a challenge? I had always thought that getting attention from the opposite gender would be somewhat alluring, interesting... When in fact, it was just plain confusing.

When Naqiyah left, I idly waited around. I needed to speak to my mum. I settled on my bed and my thoughts strayed to her journals. 

Maybe it was time to tell her that I found them, I silently mused.

I grabbed one of the journals and opened it. My mother had matured over the years. She stopped journaling sometime after I had turned five. 

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I didn’t hear Mum walk into the room.

“What’s that?” She asked.

I started. “Huh?” The journal slid to the ground and lay open on the ground.

She gingerly picked it up. “My journal?” She whispered.

I fumbled for words before taking a deep breath. I might as well tell her, right?

“Ummm... I found your journals a year or two ago.”

My mother’s eyes flashed but she said nothing.

“I brought them up here because I thought that they were empty. I thought that I could use them. But when I opened them, I realised that they were your journals.”

“Did you read them?” She asked quietly.

“I didn’t want to but then-”

“Did you read them?” She asked again, her voice sounding angry.

I shrunk back. She looked really upset. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I did.”

She gasped. “Why?” She emphasized the word, her voice laced with anger.

“I’m sorry. I just... I don’t know. I don’t have an excuse. It was wrong of me. I shouldn’t have gone through your stuff without your permission. I know that now. In fact, I don’t even know why I looked at it now. I had stopped reading them ages ago. I know that it is haraam to go through someone else’s possessions without their permission.” I was rambling, but I couldn’t help it.

“How much did you read?”

“A lot.”

The anger from my mother’s face fell and it was replaced by anguish. She fell to her knees, a look of hopelessness in her eyes. “Oh Mariam. You weren’t supposed to read them.”

“I’m so sorry, Mum. Will you forgive me? I’m so so so sorry.” I was crying at this stage. I felt so terrible. Up until this moment, I hadn’t given it two thoughts. I had read her diaries without really feeling guilt about it.

“No Mariam. I’m sorry. I should’ve destroyed them before you got hold of them. I’m so sorry for everything you read.”

Now I was confused. “I don’t understand...”

“Did you read the parts where I said some horrible things? The part about Aneesa?” She sounded hopeful.

I nodded and then it hit me. My mother didn’t want me to know who she had been growing up. She was embarrassed. 

“Oh Mariam. I am so so sorry. I was cruel. I was a terrible human. I hurt people and all I cared about was physical appearance. I don’t think that way anymore. Ever since you were born, I stopped thinking that way. I’m not that person anymore. I-”

“Mum,” I gently interrupted. “I know.”

“But what did you think as you were reading them? I can’t even imagine what you could have thought. I’m not a fake. I promise.”

“Can I say something please?” I asked.

She nodded, her face streaming with tears. My heart broke. I couldn’t bear to see my mother cry. 

“When I read it, I hadn’t been in a good place. I didn’t know you had changed. I thought you had hated me. A part of me hated you. But then the accident happened-”

“Oh no. The accident. Did it happen because...?”

“No. I had been reckless that day but it had been a combination of things. And besides, it had been a drunk driver. Anyway, for a while I started to despise you but after the accident and after I saw how much you loved me, I knew that it was impossible for you to hate me.”

“You thought I hated you?”

“I did but I hadn’t been in a good place. Mum, can we forget that I read them? I just want you to forgive me if you can.”

My mother nodded as she wiped tears from her face. “As long as you forget what you read. Or at least try to.”

“Don’t worry Mum. I see how you are with Aunty Nay now. The Tasneem you were, isn’t the Tasneem you are. And I’m sure Aunty Nay would agree. She loves you.”

“I admit, I was the worst human under the sun. I was cruel, mean. But the moment Allah blessed me with you, I wanted to become a better human being. I’m sorry for being so terrible. A terrible mother...”

“Mum, you are far from terrible. You’re the most amazing mother ever. You single handedly raised me. You’ve been a super Mum. How can I ever say you’ve been anything less? Besides, it doesn’t matter. Jannah lies under your feet. So I will try as hard as I can to be a better daughter so that I can enter Jannah with you.”

She smiled. “You’ve been the best daughter ever.”

I shook my head. “No, there was a time that I wanted to do something selfish because I was fed up with the world. But then Allah guided me.”

My mother’s face registered in disbelief and fear. “What?” She whispered.

I smiled reassuringly. “Nothing. I’m okay now, Alhumdullillah. Whatever happened in the past should stay in the past.” I just couldn’t tell my mother about my suicide attempts. It would kill her.

She looked at me worriedly. “What did you want to do?”

“Something drastic regarding social media.” I quickly said. 

“Like spreading negativity?” She asked dubiously.

I nodded. “It was stupid.” My mother didn’t look completely convinced though.

I took her hands. “Allah is my witness Mum. I’m better now. I don’t think stupidly. And you don’t have to worry, I plan on looking after myself very well. As I said, I’m working for Jannah.”

That seemed to ease her. She gave me a watery smile and her gaze fell on her journal.

“I’ll put that away.”

“Don’t. Maybe I can go through them to see how far I’ve gotten. To see how I’ve grown.”

I kissed her forehead. “Okay Mum. Anyway, there’s something serious I need to talk to you about.”


Her face registered with worry. “What is it?”

•Chapter 29•

I told my mother everything that had happened with Yusuf. She quietly listened without saying much. When I was done, she had a thoughtful look on her face.

“What does your heart tell you?” She asked.

“My heart?” I asked in confusion.

“Yes, what does your heart tell you?” 

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe you need to find out. Look, I like Yusuf, he’s great but what I think doesn’t really matter. He has really good character and he’s an absolute sweetheart. I like him but the important question here is, do you?”

“I like him but I never looked at him as anything more than a friend.”

“Make istikhara, honey.”

I nodded. That was the only way I’d get an answer.

So that night, I made istikhara, asking the Knower of everything to guide me. I didn’t have a dream or anything so I continued to make istikhara for the rest of the week. And just when I was giving up all hope, I had an interesting dream.

Yusuf starred in it. It was beautiful. He had been reciting the Qur’aan and after every ayah he recited, I recited the next ayah. There was so much of peace in the dream that when I woke up, I felt tranquillity spread throughout me.

I knew what I had to do. I first spoke to my mother and explained my dream and explained my thoughts. Now that I had some clarity, I knew exactly what I wanted to do.

Next, I called Naqiyah. She had been impatiently waiting for my call ever since I told her that I needed some time to think. 

When I finally hung up, I went to tell my mother the plans. She was ecstatic. Naqiyah would speak to Yusuf and her parents so that they could come for a proposal. I felt somewhat nervous.

To make matters worse, Naqiyah called me back within five minutes and told me that they’d be coming in two days. I practically screeched. “I don’t have anything to wear! You saw all my clothes, Naqs! Apart from huge hoodies and loose jeans, I barely own any decent clothing. Except for that dress I wore that day. But I can’t wear that again!”

“Remember that dress I gave you all those years ago?” Naqiyah asked. “Wear that.”

“Isn’t it too dressy for a proposal?”

“No, it’s perfect. You’ll only need a decent pair of shoes. We can go shopping tomorrow.”

I agreed and after I hung up, I hunted for that dress.

I found it hanging towards the end of the closet in all of its sparkly, turquoise glory. I needed a hijab to go with it as well. Ever since I had donned the hijab, I only wore black or dark blue. I didn’t own any other colours.

•

Naqiyah held up a pretty silver sandal. “This will look amazing with that dress. Try it on!”

I tried it on and it fit perfectly. It was beautifully encrusted with silver crystals. I turned it over to looked at the price.

“Oh no, thank you. I’m not spending that much on a shoe I won’t wear often.”

“I’ll buy it for you.” Naqiyah offered.

I shook my head. “Nope. JazakAllah for the offer but I can't let you buy me things."

She made a face but agreed. "Fine. But if you do need a loan or some money, I'm happy to help."

I smiled at her. "Thanks but I'll only buy things that I can afford."

After another hour, I had picked out a shoe that looked similar to the first one and I even found a hijab. Naqiyah had just pulled me towards another store because it had caught her eye.

"Oh wow!" She breathed. "Look at how amazing this looks!" She held up a pretty pale pink dress. 

"That's beautiful. Try it on." I urged.

She looked from me to the dressing room and gave me a huge smile. "I think I will." 

She headed towards the dressing room and I started to browse through the racks.

"If it isn't Mega Mariam!" A voice shrilled.

I froze. That was the same voice that gave me nightmares. I looked up, hoping not to see the face I knew all too well. Unfortunately, it was. It was Arifa and a bunch of her friends. 

"Now you're acting all holy too? What's up with the scarf? You look like the insides of a whale."

I steadied my breathing and internally calmed myself. You're stronger that you know, I told myself. Smile, be friendly. Don't give her the power. Show her that no matter what, you'll be okay. She can't crush you if you don't let her.

I mustered a smile. "Assalaamualikum," I greeted. "How are you Arifa?"

Her jaw dropped open but she quickly composed herself. "Found your voice? Looks like you lost some weight. Was it buried under all that fat?" She asked.

I smiled. "Good one, but no. I always had a voice. I just chose not to use it." This wasn't as hard as I thought it would be.

She looked taken aback. Her friends were staring at me as if I was some kind of alien.

"Do you think you're funny?" She asked me threateningly as she inched forward. I stood my ground and didn't budge. I raised my chin, hoping that I looked confident.

"I wasn't making a joke," I said sincerely. 

"Don't mess with me." She said, squaring her shoulders.

"Arifa, I do not want to fight with you. I promise."

She breathed irritably. "Whatever fatso!" Her eyes trailed towards the rack that I had been looking at and she guffawed. "You will never be able to fit into that! They don't make sizes in hippo."

I looked at the rack. "You're absolutely right. These will never fit me. They would look great on you though. You have a beautiful figure." I actually realised that I had meant what I said. There was no trace of sarcasm in my voice.

If her jaw could drop any further, it would have touched the ground. "What is going on with you?"

I shrugged. "I'm just happy."

Before she could reply, Naqiyah came up behind me and said, "It's too big, I don't think I'll take it." She pretended that she hadn't seen Arifa and her crew.

I grinned. "Okay, ready to leave?"

"Yip, let's go!"

I turned to Arifa. "Sorry, we've got to run. Take care!"

Naqiyah then turned to them too. "Oh. I didn't notice you. How are you ladies?"

Arifa walked up to Naqiyah and threw her arms around her. "Naqs! I haven't seen you in ages! Why don't you come and visit me?"

Naqiyah looked ready to throttle her. Instead, she gave her a tight smile. "I've been busy."

"And how is that sexy brother of yours? Tell him I said hi."

Naqiyah was not impressed. She turned to look at me worriedly but I was completely fine. I'm sure that Yusuf knew Arifa. I remembered the day that she had victimized me in front of Yusuf. She had been ogling him so much. But right now, it didn't bother me.

"We'll tell him that you passed your regards." I piped up. 

She looked at me from head to toe and ignoring me, she turned back to Naqiyah. "We've got to run. Keep in touch, okay?" She air kissed Naqiyah, gave me a dirty look and walked away.

"That girl grates on my nerves!" Naqiyah announced, irritation rife on her face. "Who the hell does she think she is? Besides, she shouldn't act as if she's the best thing that has graced this earth. If she was, she wouldn't have gotten that nose job! Ugh, I can't-"

"Naqiyah," I interrupted. "Let's not gossip about her, okay?"

She looked at me and the irritation left her face. But now she was looking at me with something else. Was that admiration?

"You are amazing. I saw her speaking to you and I was going to jump in but I heard you handling it perfectly well. I'm so proud of you!" She gushed.

"I'm actually proud of myself. I didn't think that I'd be able to stand up for myself but I did. It feels good to know that I've made progress. I'm no longer the same person I used to be. I'm stronger than I realised."

•Chapter 30•

I was feeling somewhat empowered. It was amazing what that one run-in with Arifa had done to me.

But somewhere in my subconscious mind, the fear that I had for her overtook me whilst I was asleep. 

She was standing in front of me with her friends, laughing and taunting me. I tried to stand up for myself, I really did, but no voice came out of me. I knew what I wanted to say but I couldn't speak. I tried to run as far away as possible but I was stuck. It was terrible. I couldn't rid myself of her laughing clutches.

I woke up in a shock, shivering and drenched in sweat. 

"It was just a dream," I told myself. "You're stronger than that!" I chastised myself. But no amount of words could make me feel better. My heartbeat was erratic, fueled by fear. How could I be so afraid of one woman? How could I recoil under her sharp gaze? How was my subconscious mind still not completely healed?

I got up and decided to pray. I prayed with all of my heart, weeping to Allah. Either I would never have to face her again or I would never have to feel so scared of her again. I didn't want to fear a mere mortal. What power did she still possess over me and how was I still allowing her to control my thoughts?

After I poured my heart out to Allah, I felt lighter. In that moment I knew, I just knew that one day I'd be free from Arifa's clutches.

•

Before I knew it, I was getting ready for Yusuf's proposal. I was beyond nervous. My heart was fluttering out of control and I could barely keep my breathing steady. Naqiyah had arrived earlier with some makeup. She wanted to help me get ready. It was ironic, she was treating me like her sibling and not Yusuf.

"Did I tell you how much I appreciate you being here?" I told her as she feathered out the blush she had applied to my cheek.

"Only about a million times." She said as she made her way around me so that she could apply some blush to my other cheek. She took a step back. "I think we're all- Oh! I forgot to add highlight!"

“Nope, I don’t want too much, remember?”

Naqiyah gave a dramatic sigh. “Ugh, fiiiiiine!”

I grinned at her. “I’d say sorry but I’m not really sorry.”

She rolled her eyes and after a few minutes, she stepped back and beamed. “Voila! All done!”

“Can I look now?”

“Not until you’re completely ready!”

I groaned. “What difference will it make?”

“You need to see the full effect.”

She handed me the dress and ordered me to slip it on while she went to go wash her hands. I resisted the urge to look at myself. I stepped into my sandals and started to tie my hair in a bun so that I could put on my hijab. Naqiyah walked in and froze.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her nervously. “Does it look bad?”

She shook her head, her eyes wide. “Wow. You look gorgeous.”

I shifted on my feet, somewhat nervous. I wasn’t used to reactions like that. “Are you sure?” I asked uncertainly. 

“You can see for yourself. Let me just help you with that hijab.”

After she adjusted and pinned my hijab, she took me to the mirror. “Ready?”

I nodded. Gently, I turned around and almost didn’t recognize myself. For the first time in my life, I thought I looked pretty. 

Naqiyah had done a fine job with the makeup. It wasn’t caked on at all but my features were accentuated.

“And?” Naqiyah asked.

My face broke into a grin. “I love it! For the first time in my life, I feel pretty.”

“You should feel beautiful! You’re nothing less than beautiful. And your eyes! They’re mesmerizing.” She gushed. Teasingly, she added, I might fall in love with them if I stare at you for too long!”

I laughed and turned to face her. “JazakAllah.” I said, my voice cracking in emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Naqiyah gave me a tight hug. “You’re my sister, remember?” She stepped back and wiggled her eyebrows. “Even if you don’t end up liking my brother, you’ll still remain my sister.”

I covered my face. “I would feel so bad if I didn’t like him.”

We chatted for a while longer before she went to assist my mother in the kitchen. 

“Wait here, only come when I call you.”

I nodded and idly started wringing my fingers. I didn’t know how to control my nervousness so instead, I decided to pray. I relished in the calm that engulfed me.

•Chapter 31•

“Mariam? Are you ready?” Naqiyah asked as she poked her head through the door.

I got up and smiled. “Yip!”

She looked at me quizzically. “Fifteen minutes ago you were practically freaking out. What did you take to calm down your nerves?”

“The prayer pill. Speaking to Allah was the only thing that helped me.”

“I can see that. You look completely fine!”

“I am fine.”

“Okay, enough chatter. My brother is waiting for you. Eagerly, I might add.”

Before she could pull me towards the door, I stopped her. “Naqiyah? Will you promise me something?”

She looked at me in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Promise me that no matter what happens, you’ll always remain my friend.”

Naqiyah shook her head. “No. I promise that no matter what happens, I’ll always be your sister.”

I gave her a quick hug before she dragged me towards the door.

I walked into the lounge and I heard an almost inaudible gasp coming from my mother. “You look beautiful!” She mouthed.

I grinned and quickly greeted Naqiyah’s parents.

Aunty Nay gave me a tight hug. “You look stunning, my darling.” She whispered in my ear. I thanked her and took a seat while everyone made small talk. 

I couldn’t look at Yusuf, not yet. 

Naqiyah stood up. “Okay, come on you two. You can talk privately.”

She led us to the dining room and whispered softly, “My brother has not stopped ogling you.”

I felt a blush creep up my neck but said nothing.

Naqiyah then left and Yusuf and I were alone. I don’t know why I felt so awkward. I finally raised my eyes to meet his.

He was staring at me with such intensity, I felt my breathing hike.

“He’s Yusuf! You know him well. Relax!” I told myself.

He looked so handsome and poised. I cleared my throat and greeted him softly.

He replied and then said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone as beautiful as you in my entire life.”

I blushed furiously and averted my gaze. “Thanks,” I mumbled.

“I’m serious. You literally took my breath away.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled again. Okay, I couldn’t carry on like this, I needed to say something.

Before I could say anything, Yusuf spoke up. “So by now you know I like you. I really do, Mariam. But maybe you won’t feel the same way so let’s speak about ourselves and we’ll take it from there.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. I felt extremely awkward when he complimented me. I wasn’t used to being complimented so much in one day. I didn’t know how to act or how to respond to people calling me beautiful.

Speaking to Yusuf was effortless, natural. We got along well, we joked and laughed just the way we usually did. He asked me questions about myself and I asked him more about himself. He asked me what I wanted to do with my life and when I told him that I wanted to become a hafidha and study psychology, he was happy for me. 

“So what are you looking for in a man?” He asked.

His question caught me off guard. I had never really thought about it. I cleared my throat and thought for a second. “I guess I want someone that will accept me as I am, flaws and all. I want him to accept my past, my insecurities... I want him to help me elevate my Iman. I want him to love, care and cherish me. I know that sounds cliche but I mean it. I want someone that will support me and help me become a better person, a better human. I want someone who is kind, who treats everyone with kindness. Someone who will be there for me through it all... Yeah, I guess that’s what I want. What are you looking for in a woman?”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Before I answer your question, do you think that I’ll be that kind of a man?”

“From what I know, I think you are. But maybe I should ask your sister for clarity,” I joked.

He laughed. “Naqiyah will tell you that all I ever do is bother her... And to answer your question, I want a wife who is soft, kind, caring. She shouldn’t just want me because of my outer appearance. Sorry, I know that sounds conceited - and I don’t mean to - but I want someone that loves my heart. Someone that isn’t fake, doesn’t hurt others. Someone who has a beautiful heart... Someone like you.”

I didn’t know how to respond. I remained quiet for a few minutes and then said, “Do you think I’m that kind of a woman?” 

“I do, actually. You’re pretty damn amazing, you know?” He gave me a playful wink.

I grinned and looked away bashfully. “You give me more credit than I deserve.”

“I think you give yourself less credit than you’re entitled to.”

We chatted for a while longer before Naqiyah came to call us. 

When we got back to the lounge, Aunty Nay had a hopeful look on her face. 

“And?” She asked, looking between me and Yusuf.

“My answer is yes. I want to marry her. I’m sure about it.” Yusuf said.

I jerked my head up and looked at him. He looked completely sure. I felt all eyes turn to me and I swallowed hard.

“Ummm, maybe I should first make istikhara.” I squeaked.

“Take your time.” Yusuf said. “I already made istikhara and my answer is a firm yes.”

I could feel my face redden. Naqiyah took one look at me and stood up. “Okay everyone, let’s stop making them feel awkward. They don’t have to give their answers now.”

I gave her a grateful look. This girl knew me so well, I was so thankful for her.

•

“So?” My mother asked me after everyone had left. “What do you think?”

“He’s great.” I simply said.

“Does that mean you like him?” 

I took a deep breath. “I do. But I’d like to make istikhara again.”

My mother nodded. “Okay... That boy is in love with you. Anyone can see it.”

I looked at her, taken aback. “What makes you say that?”

“Apart from the fact that it’s written all over his face, the way he looked at you was a clear giveaway.”

I could feel myself blushing again. In the past twenty four hours, my face had reddened more than it ever had before.

"Well, don't keep him waiting too long. He's probably already getting anxious.

I nodded mutely and allowed my thoughts to run free. I knew that I liked him, he was easy to get along with and a great guy. Did I see my future with him? I couldn't answer that... Mainly because I had never seen my future with anyone. 

I couldn't help but look down at my body. What if all my cellulite and stretch marks grossed him out? What if he was getting something that he didn't quite sign up for? What if my scars would scare him? Maybe I needed to tell him all of this, just so that he could change his mind if he wanted to.

"Stop it!" I chastised myself. "If he doesn't love you and accept you for you, he is not the one.

That night I made istikhara and headed to bed. I was hoping for a clear cut dream so that I'd get an answer easily. Instead, I couldn't recall my dreams but I did get a feeling. I woke up happy and content, as if I could take on the world and nothing could stop me.

I knew that istikhara was asking Allah for guidance. I knew that a dream or a feeling was not mandatory. I knew that if things are meant to be, Allah will make it happen. I just had to put my trust in Him.

In that moment, I knew exactly what I had to do. I quickly spoke to my mother and then called Naqiyah.

"Do you want to come over?" I asked.

"Give me ten minutes!" She replied. And sure enough, she was at the front door within ten minutes.

"Do you have any idea how nervous Yusuf is? I've never seen him like this before. Please tell me you have an answer for him."

I looked at her solemnly. "I don't know Naqs. I just don't know if Yusuf and I..." I trailed off and watched her face drop in disappointment.

"Is that a no?" She whispered.

I gave a loud, despondent sigh. "No, I-"

"You're really saying no?" Naqiyah asked me incredulously. "Why?"

I couldn't keep up the pretense any longer so I broke into a grin. "Relax! It's not a no yet."

"What do you mean by ‘yet’?"

"I jut want to know if he'll accept me as is. With all my flaws and imperfections. With my scars of the past... The cellulite, stretchmarks and disgusting scars." I didn't elaborate about the scars I mentioned.

"Of course he will! In fact, let's call him right now!"

Before I could stop her, she was calling him. When he answered, she placed the call on loudspeaker."

"Yusuf, Mariam wants to know if you will accept her as is. With all her imperfections and flaws. And I'm quoting her now, with her cellulite, stretchmarks and disgusting scars? You will, right?" Naqiyah rolled her eyes when she said this.

He was silent for a long while. My heart sank.

•Chapter 32•

He finally started to speak. "I won't accept any of that." Yusuf said. 

Naqiyah's eyes widened in disbelief and I felt as if my heart was slowly breaking.

But he wasn't done. He continued to speak. "Because she's bringing herself down. I won't just accept them, I will love them. I won't just accept it, I'll embrace it. I thought she knew all of this?"

Naqiyah breathed a sigh of relief. "You almost gave me a heart attack, Yusuf! I thought you wouldn't accept any of it."

"Is she there with you?"

"Yip."

"Put me on loud speaker, please."

"Oh oops. I forgot to mention that you're already on loudspeaker."

"Mariam, I want you just the way you are. Flaws and all. Because those are the very details that make you unique, that make you stronger."

My heart melted and I couldn't help but smile.

"I don't think she can reply to that because she's busy melting in a puddle of happiness." Naqiyah said wryly.

I gave her a pointed look. "I'm not!" I squeaked.

Naqiyah rolled her eyes again and told Yusuf that she had to go.

"Wait, what's her answer?" Yusuf asked.

"I told you. She can't answer."

"No I mean, does she want to marry me?"

Naqiyah looked at me pointedly but I just shrugged. I wanted to tell her properly. "I don't know yet, Yusuf. I'll speak to you later."

She hung up and turned to me. Please tell me you have an answer." She pleaded. "You're driving me crazy! Did you make istikhara?"

"I did."

"And?"

I smiled. "It's a yes from me."

Naqiyah's jaw dropped open before she squealed in delight. She grabbed me in such a tight hug that I had to try to pry myself away from her. "Can't... Breathe!" I gasped.

"Oh, sorry! I'm just so incredibly excited! Now we're actually going to be related! Can you believe it? AHHHHHH!" She creamed in delight.

My mother ran into the room. "What's wrong?" she asked worriedly.

Naqiyah practically tackled her. "Nothing is wrong, Aunty Tasneem! Everything is right! It's perfect!" She squealed.

My mother looked at me and smiled. "I told her," I said.

"No wonder! Now tell your brother, Naqs!" My mother said.

"I don't think I can control my excitement! I won't be able to tell him without screaming in his ears!"

"Let me call your mother then." My mother said.

"Okay, and put it on loudspeaker and tell her to gather my dad and Yusuf and do the same."

My mother obliged and we waited for Aunty Nay to gather everyone.

"So Aneesa, my Mariam has an answer."

I could hear a sharp intake of breath. I didn't know who it was. Next to me, Naqiyah was bounding on the bed, unable to sit still, a goofy smile on her face.

"What did she say Tasneem? Yusuf looks like he's about to faint."

My mother took a deep breath, gave us a huge smile and said, "She said yes!"

There was silence on the other end of the phone and then Yusuf cheered loudly, exclaiming 'Alhumdullillah!' over and over again. We could barely hear anything over the commotion.

•

I found myself sitting as a guest at Naqiyah's house, feeling completely nervous. I was so used to making myself at home that it felt really weird. We had gathered to discuss the date and the other formalities.

After small talk and pleasantries, my mother jumped right into it.

"So let's talk about the date. Yusuf? What do you think?"

"As soon as possible." He replied promptly. 

My eyes widened. "What? When?" I blurted.

"As soon as possible, if it's okay with you?"

"But I don't even have a wali! My grandparents and father have passed away and my dad didn't have any brothers, only sister's. What am I supposed to do in that case?" The thought had only occurred to me now. I almost forgot that I had needed a wali (guardian).

"I think the local imam can act as your wali." Naqiya's father said. "Let me call my brother, he's a mufti."

I remember that Naqiyah had told me that her uncle is a mufti. Her father made the call and a few minutes later, he confirmed that the local imam will be able to act as my wali.

We spoke for a while longer and eventually it was decided that we'd get married in two months. I still felt that it was too early but Naqiyah had reminded me not to delay the nikah.

Later that day, I spoke to Mualima Khadija and told her what had transpired. She advised that I shouldn't have delayed it by two months but I told her that I had a lot to sort out. She also told me that her husband's friend was the imam of the masjid and that she'd ask her husband to speak to him.

"That will be perfect actually. Yusuf's father was going to phone him but your husband might as well give the imam a head's up."

Mualima Khadija went on to give me valuable marriage advice and I listened to everything intently. 

•

Within the two months, I had to prepare for my impending wedding, I had started hifdh classes, and I had changed my degree. Memorising the Qu'raan wasn't as hard as I had expected to be. Between that, my mother and Naqiyah were dragging me to random stores so that I could get some wedding shopping done.

We weren't going to have a fancy wedding. We were going to have a simple nikah and a simple walima. Although Naqiyah's family were well known, Yusuf had insisted on a small, simple walima. I was glad, I really didn't want to be the main focus area at a large walima. 

"Come on!" Naqiyah urged as we walked into the third bridal boutique that day.

My mother and I dutifully followed her. My mother was thoroughly enjoying all the shopping and I was just glad that I got to spend the time with my two best friends, Naqiyah, and my mother.

I had given up hope on finding a wedding dress. I had planned to wear a wedding dress for the walima even though it was not traditional.

I walked into the store and immediately, I knew what I wanted.

The dress was deep ivory with a beautiful gold tinge. When the light hit it, it looked more gold. It had a fitted bodice which elegantly flowed into a long flare. The lace detail around the sleeves perfectly complimented the dress. 

"Wow..." I breathed. "That's beautiful. But I don't think it'll suit me."

"Nonsense!" Naqiyah said. She motioned to the salesperson for some help. "Aunty Tasneem, don't you think this will look beautiful on Mariam?"

My mother was already agreeing. "Just try it on and then decide."

I shook my head. "No, it'll just be depressing if I end up looking like a large potato."

"Just try it on!" My mother and Naqiyah exclaimed. I sighed. 

I might as well try it on and get them off my back. "Fine."

The sales assistance raked through the the racks and located my size. She took me to a change room where I reluctantly slipped on the dress. 

There was no mirror in the room so I couldn't see how the dress looked. The sales assistance asked for permission to come in and assisted me with the back of the dress. 

"Ready?" She asked me. 

I nodded and we made our way out of the dressing room. My mother's hand flew to her mouth and Naqiyah beamed. "Did you see yourself?" She asked.

I shook my head and slowly looked up towards the mirror. I was stunned into silence. The dress looked absolutely perfect. I almost felt like a princess.

"This is the one," I whispered. "I love it.

"Oh honey, it's perfect!" My mother gushed.

"You look amazing!" Naqiyah squealed. 

Luckily the dress was within our price range. Apparently it had been on sale for months but no one had wanted it. I grinned happily, the dress was literally my dream dress.

•Chapter 33•

I woke up, slightly dazed. I knew that today was a big day but I couldn't quite place my finger on it.

Suddenly, I shot up. It was my wedding day! In just a few hours I would be married! I tried to control my breathing which had suddenly accelerated.

Naqiyah burst into the room. "Get up!" She ordered.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. "You're the groom’s sister!"

"And the bride’s best friend."

"Doesn't your mum need you?"

"Nope, everything has been catered for so we don't have to worry. I just need to get there on time so the only thing I need to do is get ready. And I can't get ready until you're all set."

I smiled at her. "What would I do without you?"

She opened the curtains with a flourish. "Hopefully, you'll never find out. Now get up!"

I got up and had a long, leisurely shower just so that I could calm myself down. The local imam had taken my permission the night before and today he would perform the nikah.

When I finally got out, Naqiyah was waiting for me impatiently. "Your makeup artist and hairstylist will be here  soon."

"Hairstylist? But I'm wearing a hijab."

"I know. But you can still do your hair you know."

I laughed. "That's so extra!"

An hour later, the makeup artist and hairstylist came. Naqiyah gave them instructions and then quickly greeted me before heading out.

"Please don't make me look completely unnatural," I told the makeup artist.

She nodded and got to work.

By the time they were done, I was ready to jump out of the chair. I glanced at the time and realised that I had less than an hour left. I quickly slipped on my dress and called my mother to help me tie the back.

When she came to the room, she took one look at me and burst into tears.

"My beautiful baby is all grown up," she said as she sniffled.

My voice cracked as I spoke. "Mum, please don't cry. Last night we promised that we had cried everything out. And I promise that I will visit you every day. Especially since my hifdh classes are down the road."

She quickly dried her tears and got working on my dress. I could hear her sniffles and I tried hard not to burst into tears. Last night I had cried so much that I had thought that I wouldn't have any tears left. But right now, it felt like a waterfall was being held back and I had to try so hard to keep the tears from gushing out.

When my mother was done, I turned around and faced her. "So? What do you think?"

My mother gasped. "Wow! You look gorgeous, sweetheart. How I wish that your father could have seen you today. He would have been so proud of the woman you became."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "In-Sha-Allah he will be waiting for us in Jannah. Then we can tell him all about this."

After my mother left the room to get ready, I slowly turned around to view my reflection. I kept my eyes closed and prayed that I'd be pleased with what I saw. When I opened my eyes, I was stunned.

I thought I looked beautiful. The feeling of confidence and self acceptance coursed through me and I felt amazing. Never before had I felt this way. I fell down into prostration, the feeling of gratefulness coursing throughout me. I thanked Allah for this moment. This very moment that I had never thought I'd ever feel.

•

My nikah had just finished and I was ready to see my husband. The word husband rolled around in my head and I realised that I liked the way it sounded.

A few of our distant relatives were over and a lot of my mother's friends. I took a deep breath and waited for Yusuf to arrive. Naqiyah had texted me to tell me that she and Aunty Nay were on the way and that Yusuf was also on his way.

When Naqiyah walked in, she took one look at me and squealed in delight. "Oh my gosh! Wow! Mariam! You look... Wow! My sister-in-law! My brother is such a lucky man! Wow!" She gave me a huge hug and I smiled to myself. She was the most amazing friend ever.

Aunty Nay greeted me next. "You look amazing, my darling. I pray that Allah will always keep you and Yusuf happy."

"JazakAllah Aunty Nay..." I paused and looked at her quizzically. "I mean Mummy?"

She laughed. "Whatever you want to call me. It might take you a while to get used to calling me Mummy." 

I hugged her again. "If I had to choose a mother-in-law, I'd choose you. I love you so much."

"I love you too, my love."

Naqiyah then turned to me and beamed. "Ready?" She asked.

"For?"

"To meet your husband!"

Aunty Nay moved out of the way just as Yusuf walked through the door. 

He froze and suddenly, time stood still. Everyone else suddenly disappeared and it was just me and him. I could feel his intense gaze upon me.

He looked dashing in his jet black suit. My eyes caught his and my breathing hiked. I felt like I'd pass out any second. He slowly started walking towards me and I was almost positive that he was walking in slow motion. He looked so amazing that I found myself having trouble breathing. How did I end up marrying a man who was this handsome? 

Then he smiled at me and I felt my knees give out. A hand steadied me and I heard a soft chuckle come from my side. It was probably Naqiyah but in that moment, I could barely think.

Yusuf came up to me and I honestly felt as if I'd melt.

"Assalaamualikum, my beautiful wife." He greeted, his hand gently brushing the side of my cheek.

My voice had evaded me and I simply stared at him. He grinned and his perfect smile left me reeling. 

I heard Naqiyah tell him something and I felt him lead me towards my room. When we got to my room, he sat me down and turned my face towards him.

"Let's try this again. Assalaamualikum, my beautiful wife."

I finally found my voice. "Wa alaikum salaam," I replied softly. I cleared my throat and repeated my greeting to him.

"Are you okay now? You looked a little woozy back there."

My face flushed. "I... Sorry. I'm in shock I guess."

"So am I. But I faked my calm."

I looked at him. "You're in shock?"

"Yes," He replied softly. "Have you seen the woman that I married? She's exquisite. She is the most beautiful bride I have ever seen. And besides, she has this noor (light) about her... It's captivating!"

I smiled. "That's the sweetest thing I've ever heard. JazakAllah...husband." I liked how the word rolled off my tongue so easily.

He gave me one of his intense looks again and I became encapsulated in his gaze. How could one human have such an effect on another? Me, more than anyone knew that it was completely possible to allow others to affect you so greatly. But I had always only thought that that was possible in a negative sense. But right now, everything felt amazing, so right.

"Let's pray two rakaats of salaah and make dua to Allah to bless us in our marriage." He said.

In that single moment, Yusuf had won over my entire heart and there was no going back.

He led the salaah and with each beautiful Qu'raanic verse that left his mouth, I fell deeper for him. After salaah, he started to make dua. And what a beautiful dua it was! He prayed for our happiness, contentment,  joys and love. He prayed for our parents and our future. He prayed for eternal success for us and our families.

When he was done, I gently wiped my face and looked at him. He broke into a smile before he approached me. I looked away, feeling very nervous. He gently pulled me towards him and gave me long hug. I felt loved, safe and comforted. I had never experienced a hug quite like his.

"It's true when they say that true love is only created by the bond of nikah." Yusuf said. "I thought that what I had felt for you before was love but this... This is what true love really is."

A knock on the door had us break apart from our embrace. 

"Yusuf, Mariam?" Naqiyah called. "Time to get to the walima!"

"Maybe we can hide so that we don't have to go." Yusuf whispered.

I chuckled softly. "Naqiyah will grab us by the ears if we miss it."

We looked at each other and grinned. "Come in!" I called.

She looked between us and her eyes narrowed. "You too look very guilty for a newly wed couple. Planning to ditch your walima?"

My mouth dropped open. "You were eavesdropping, weren't you?"

"Oh gross. No. You're a newly married couple. I don't want to know what you guys were getting up to." She wrinkled her nose. "Besides it's my brother and best friend. Kind of weird."

"I thought you were rooting for us. Anyway, we were just praying salaah." I motioned towards the prayer mats that were folded neatly and placed next to the bed.

"I was rooting for you until I saw the two of you gaze at each other like love sick teenagers!"

Yusuf laughed and placed his arm around Naqiyah. "Come on, sis. You were the one that pushed me towards this. So you can't complain when you see the love.


Naqiyah grimaced. "Okay, whatever. Now come on! People are probably already waiting for the bride and groom."

•Chapter 34•

I was more nervous for entering the walima hall than I had been for my nikah. Since the walima was segregated between men and women, Naqiyah and my mother walked me in. I suddenly felt self conscious, I didn't want to be known as the 'fat bride' or something like that.

I could feel all the attention on me and I could feel the flush creep up my face. I really hated being the center of attention. 

But then, something amazing happened. Involuntarily I looked up and I noticed that people were looking at me and actually smiling. I didn't notice any smirks, any laughing glances.

"She's beautiful, that's an amazing wedding dress." I heard a lady say.

"What a lovely bride."

Was I hearing things or was this actually happening? I raised my chin slightly, feeling a little more confident and I smiled at those I passed. 

When we finally reached the main table, I whispered, "That wasn't too bad."

Naqiyah raised an eyebrow. "It should have been amazing. Did you hear how people were gushing about you? They couldn't get over you!"

My mother agreed. "I actually heard one lady say that had she known about you, she would have gotten her son married to you."

I laughed. "Well today has been the single most unreal day of my life. Had I not pinched myself multiple times, I would have thought that I was stuck in dream land."

The rest of the walima went by without a glitch. I was busy greeting a line of sweet guests, all telling me that I looked lovely and wishing me well.

Told that you're looking lovely is a big deal for a girl who was always told that she was ugly. I knew that my outer appearance didn't really count though. My heart and my character was what truly defined me. I wish I had known that in school.

•
Yusuf and I were finally alone in our new home. It was beautiful, clean and spacious.

I sighed in contentment, slightly shaky. Greeting my mother had been the most emotional moment of my entire life. All my life, my mother had me to herself and now she had to share me with another person. Greeting her had been completely tear jerking. We had clutched onto each other and we had cried our hearts out. I tried to console my mother over and over again by promising to visit her as often as possible. It wasn't until Yusuf came up to my mother, and told her that she had gained a son and she wasn't losing a daughter.

Then Naqiyah had embraced me and cried tears of joy.

It had all been very emotional.

"What are you thinking?" Yusuf asked.

"Just about my mother."

"Don't worry. If you don't visit her as often as you promised, I will personally take you there."

I smiled. "How did I get so lucky?"

"You mean how did I get so lucky?"

I giggled. "If your sister heard us right now she'd probably gag in disgust because of how cheesy we sound."

Yusuf winked. "Good thing she isn't around, right?"

He came up to me and gently planted a kiss on my cheek.

I gazed into his eyes, completely memerized by his mere presence.

"Your eyes..." He breathed. "They are the most beautiful, most enchanting eyes I have ever seen. They feel like they are capturing my soul."

I took a deep breath, breathing in his delicious scent. We were so caught up in that moment, that I lost all my thoughts.

He lowered his lips to mine and gave me a sweet kiss. I was left reeling. If he hadn't had his arms around me, I would have fallen to the ground.

He chuckled. "You look like you're in shock."

I blushed. "I don't know the first thing about being in a relationship."

"Well, we'll do this together, won't we?" 

I nodded and excused myself. I wanted to take off my hijab for my husband.

I smoothed down my hair and walked towards Yusuf whose back was towards me.

"Yusuf?"

He turned around and gasped. "Wow! You look... breathtaking!" He actually sounded breathless.

I burst into giggles.

"What?" He asked in confusion.

"Sorry, you just sounded breathless when you said that."

He laughed. "You literally left me breathless, baby."

Suddenly the smile died on my lips and I gave a soft sigh.

"What's wrong?" Yusuf asked.

"I need to tell you something."

He looked worried. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"No, I'm fine... Just hear me out okay?" I took a deep breath and started talking before I lost my nerve. "So I don't know how much you know or how much Naqiyah told you but I was severly bullied in school. So much so that I actually hated my life and I hated myself. What no one else knows is what I started to do to myself. I have scars because of my own self infliction's. They look terrible and coupled with my stretchmarks and cellulite, it makes a sore, ugly sight. I've healed though. I don't hurt myself anymore. Alhumdullillah I found Allah and I got medical help and now, I'm okay. But my scars are still prevalent. I wish I had never went down that route but in a way, it serves as a reminder. Just when I had lost all hope, Allah saved me."

Yusuf looked shocked. Maybe I shouldn't have just told him everything. But sooner or later, I would have to. Did you..?" His voice got caught in his throat. "Did you ever try to... end your life?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

I looked away. "Almost. I-I was ready to, but Allah had helped me."

He looked like he was in physical pain. "I would ask you why but... I guess I know. Sumayya..." He trailed off, a stray tear cascading down his cheek.

"I didn't mean to hurt you." I said, my own tears threatening to fall down my face. "I just needed you to know. So that you wouldn't get a shock."

He took a deep breath and nodded. "Promise me something." He said earnestly, cupping my face.

"What?"

"Promise me that you will never hurt yourself again."

"I promise. I already made this promise to my Lord. So when I say I promise not to do that again, I really, truly mean it."

He looked slightly relieved. "And I promise that I'll always be here for you so if you need to talk, I'll listen."

"Thank you." I whispered. "Telling you was the hardest thing I ever had to do."

"I can imagine. From now on, you're going to learn to love every scar, every mark, every imperfection. I'll help you, I'll teach you to love it all."

"I love you for the pleasure of Allah." I said, my heart bursting with love. 

He responded in Arabic and after a few moments of just clutching me, I pulled away.

"There's something else I'd like to tell you."

He looked extremely worried.

"This is a good thing! I promise."

"What is it?" He asked carefully.

"I'll be right back." I quickly grabbed my hijab and went to sit next to him. Closing my eyes, I began to recite the paragraph on gratefulness from Surah Baqarah.

When I was done Yusuf was staring at me, wide eyed. "I had no idea that you could recite the Qu'raan so beautifully!" He exclaimed.

I smiled. "That's what pushed me towards becoming a hafidha. I never actually listened to myself before until my mother had overheard me and encouraged me to listen to my own voice. I have one request though."

"What is it?" He asked with that signature look of intensity.

"Since you're a hafidh, I want you to help me memorise the Qu'raan."

"That was my plan, the moment I knew you wanted to become a hafidha."

I grinned. "JazakAllah."

"Read more," He urged. "I can listen to your voice for the rest of my life."

"Well you'll have to - now that you're married to me." I told him playfully.


He placed his arm around me and drew me closer and in that moment, all I could do was thank Allah for granting me happiness beyond my expectations.

•Epilogue•

*10 years later*

I removed my niqab and jilbab before I straightened the brochures that sat on the table. Yusuf came to me, our son and daughter clutching each hand of his. 

Shakira, our seven year old firstborn, ran towards me and gave me a tight hug. Ayman, our five year old, was right behind her.

I hugged them both and whispered to Yusuf, “Weren’t you going to take them to your parents?”

“I was, but they insisted on seeing you first.”

Just then, my mother came and Shakira and Ayman ran to her in excitement. 

“Where’s Naqiyah?” I asked Yusuf. “She’s supposed to bring the banners.”

“On her way. She just called to say she’s running a little late. And I’ll be back to help you the moment I drop these two off.”

“JazakAllah, love.” I pecked him on the cheek.

Yusuf gathered the kids and I quickly greeted them. "I'll see you soon!" He said before greeting me.

I stared at his retreating back and smiled to myself in contentment. Allah had blessed me with everything of the best and I was grateful for every step of my life that had led me to where I was now.

I had completed my hifdh and I had qualified as a psychologist. I worked part time as a psychologist because the rest of my time was spent in giving motivational talks to women. My aim was to empower women, make them feel good about themselves, ignore societal expectations, and remind them of their worth.

If I hadn't gone through what I did, I would have never been able to do this. I often spoke to the audience about myself, my past, my own turmoils. Before I had started with these motivational talks, I told Naqiyah and my mother all about my depressive state that had almost led me to suicide. There were tears, astonishment, worry and then finally, acceptance. They had initially blamed themselves for not seeing what was right in front of them but I had reminded them about how well I pretended I was. It had been a rocky, difficult journey... But I had made it. And now, I was stronger than ever.

Naqiyah walked in then and I broke out of my reverie. My team was made up of Yusuf, my mother and her new husband, Naqiyah and her husband, and occasionally, Mualima Khadija. They were a solid team.

"Is Isa coming in?" I asked Naqiyah, referring to her husband.

"Nope, you're fine."

I placed my niqab and jilbab back down. One of the requirements before attending my talk was that women were to dress up as best as they could. Sometimes feeling beautiful is the first step to believing that you're beautiful. I was wearing a very fancy gown myself. It was a long, black, very elegant looking dress.

I looked down and smiled to myself. I was happy. I was happy with my body, I was happy with my imperfections. I was truly happy. 

I didn’t need to lose weight or starve myself to attain the standards of beauty that society had defined.

After a while, Yusuf came back and began assisting me with last minute checks.

The team moved towards the back of the large hall, sorting out the finer details. 

I went to the podium to test the mic and just then, the very voice that I had thought I had forgotten, cut through my thoughts.

"Mariam? You married Yusuf?" 

My back stiffened. That was the one voice that I dreaded with all of my heart. I was in a good place. I didn't need, nor want, the negativity in my life.

I turned around slowly and almost did a double take. In front of me was Arifa, but she looked so so different. There were dark circles under her eyes, her cheeks had sunken in, her hair was limp and her eyes looked...almost dead.

After everything, my heart still went out to her. "Arifa?" I asked incredulously.

"Yes... You married Yusuf?"

I nodded. "Ten years ago. How are you?"

She looked at me with tear filled eyes. "Horrible. Life is horrible. I got married three times and all three of my husbands cheated on me. What's wrong with me?" She buried her head in her hands and impulsively, I hugged her.

She stiffened and then looked at me. "What are you doing here in any case? You don't look like you need the motivation."

I smiled at her. "Actually, I'm the speaker."

Her mouth dropped open. "What?"

"My life hadn't always been easy. There was a time that it was horrible but Allah had a plan for me. Every horrible moment led me to this."

"You haven't lost weight but you look great." Her hand flew to her mouth. "Sorry, I-"

"It's okay." I said.

"I'm sorry Mariam. I'm sorry for calling you names, I'm sorry for hurting you, I'm sorry for everything. Nothing I do can ever make things right, but I need you to know how sorry I am. My failed marriages led me to self reflection and only then did I realise what a horrible human I had been. I don't even have friends anymore. No one likes me.. It's horrible. I now know how I made you feel. Because now, I'm the outcast."

I hugged her again, my heart breaking for her. "It's okay. I forgive you."

Naqiyah came up to me then and when she was close enough to see Arifa, her jaw dropped open. "What is SHE doing here?" She asked icily. She came closer and her eyes widened as she noticed how Arifa looked.

"She came for the talk." I simply replied. 

Naqiyah softened. "Would you like to come with me for registration?" She asked her.

Arifa nodded and Naqiyah led her away. 

Yusuf then approached me. "What was all that about? My sister looked ready to slap someone."

I laughed. "That was Arifa."

"Arifa? As in the girl that made your life a living hell Arifa?"

I nodded. "Same one. But my heart goes out to her. Her life hasn't exactly been easy. I wish that today helps her, even just a little."

My husband looked at me in admiration. "And this right here is the reason I love you."

I gave him a quick kiss and a smile. "I love you."

"I love you too."

"Will you quickly listen to the ayahs I'm going to recite today? Just to make sure that I'm not making any silly mistakes."

"Go ahead."

I recited my favourite verses in Arabic and then in English.The very verses that had shook me to my core.

“Therefore remember Me. I will remember you. Be grateful to Me and never show me ingratitude.” (Quran 2:152)

“Has there (not) been a long time when man was not even a mentionable thing. It is We who have created man out of a sperm-drop intermingled, so that We might test him. And therefore We have made him hearing and seeing. Surely We have guided him to the way (and it rests with him to prove himself) either grateful or ungrateful.” (Quran 76:1-3)

“And when your Lord made it known: If you are grateful, I would certainly give to you more, and if you are ungrateful, My chastisement is truly severe.” (Quran 14:7)

“[Satan] said, “Because You have put me in error, I will surely sit in wait for them on Your straight path. Then I will come to them from before them and from behind them and on their right and on their left, and You will not find most of them grateful [to You].” (Quran 7:16-17)

Yusuf opened his eyes once I was done. "Wow, as usual, that was absolutely phenomenal. I really am a lucky man."

"And I'm a lucky woman!"

He chuckled and then turned serious. "I truly love how you bring Qu'raan into your talks. The love you have for this perfect book is beautiful. And even though all the guests are not Muslim, they always enjoy it. I haven't received any negative feedback on how you incorporate Qur'aanic verses in your talks.

I smiled. "All with Allah's will, ONLY with His will."

"Absolutely."

Naqiyah came back and looked at me. "You just forgave her?"

I nodded. "I did. Holding on to the past is only going to destroy my present. And I won't let that happen."

Naqiyah playfully punched Yusuf on the arm. "Your wife is amazing."

He grinned. "I know."

I laughed. "I'm really not that amazing. You make me sound like some kind of saint."

"You kind of are a saint. I didn't want to forgive Arifa up until now. Your heart is so beautiful and so full of light that it shines on the rest of us."

I blushed. "Okay stop. I can't allow myself to get a big head."

Naqiyah snorted. "A big head? You? That'll be the day!"

My mother then came over and looked over her shoulder. "Did you register that girl?"

Naqiyah nodded. "That's Arifa, Aunty Tasneem. It's THE Arifa."

My mother's eyes widened. "Why is she here?"

"She needs your daughter's help."

My mother softened. "Oh, I hope she's okay." 

Just then, a group of women wandered in and Yusuf looked at me. "That's my cue to leave. People are starting to arrive. I checked the sound again and it should be fine. You know what to do if there's a glitch."

I nodded and greeted him as my mother and Naqiyah began registering the attendees.

I quickly went through my notes, I was going to speak to the women about my past and my scars. I would tell them how I allowed myself to be consumed by what other's wanted when all I really needed was self love and God. I was going to tell them that I had forgiven my bullies and I had forgiven myself.

I sighed in contentment. It was only because of Allah's will that I was healed. I didn't regret my past for a second, because I knew that it had all been part of a greater plan, of Allah's plan.

I no longer yearned for acceptance from society, I didn't need to be accepted by mere mortals. I only needed to be accepted by my Lord. After all, He has promised that there will be reward for our suffering as long as we turn to Him in all matters of life. Acceptance by my Lord would lead me to Jannah (heaven), a place I so desperately craved, so desperately yearned. Because at the end of the day this life is nothing but a deception... A deception which leads us to believe that eternal comfort can be achieved by running after this perishable world. Alas! Eternal comfort can only be attained in Jannah. This world is nothing more than a mere illusion.

Over the years I had realised that I had been enticed by society and all of their rules. I had believed that society was the way of life. It had been nothing but a false fallacy. Because the only thing that I needed, was Allah. The Only One who could calm my heart and lead me to perfection, and that perfection was deen.

And it was only through Allah's love, mercy and compassion that I had been pulled out of the gasping throes of darkness and placed into the comfort of the light. I understood that only through Allah's colossal wisdom, did I have to endure the pain of the past.

Had it not been for the single moment that had prevented me from self destruction, I would have been a goner. That was the moment that had ignited the spark to learn more. Although I had not realised it at the time. And it was only because of Allah's mercy, that I had developed a passion for my deen.

After all, He is Ar-Rahmaan, Ar-Raheem - the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful. He is Al-Afuww - The Effacer of sins, Al-Khabir - The All aware, Al-Latif - The All Kind, Al-Mu'izz - The giver of honour, Al-Mudhill - The Giver of dishonour, Al-Muntaqim - The Avenger. He is the Knower of All, He is the Most Wise. He is the Creator of the Creation, He is Infinite and He is Perfection.

After half an hour, the attendees seated themselves and I began.

"Hello everyone. Today I will great you with the Islamic greeting which translates to 'Peace be upon you'. Assalaamualikum. I hope everyone is all dressed up. Otherwise I'll be the only one looking like the sore thumb and the only overdressed one in this room full of gorgeous women."

There was a soft chuckle that ran through the crowd and I gave them a big smile. 

"I'm going to start with my story. A story that is a recollection of my life, a painful trip down memory lane..." 

I too a deep breath and began, "Growing up, I was always bullied..."

•••

Author’s note:

And that's a wrap! We have come to the end of Mariam's incredible journey. This story aimed to highlight bullying, depression, suicide, self loathing and image issues. It was tough to write, especially because it was in first person and it dealt with very sensitive topics.

I hope you enjoyed Mariam's journey and loved her character as much as I did.

Remember:
• It’s okay to seek medical help for mental issues. But never ever forget to turn to Allah. Only He can truly calm your soul and grant wisdom to the professionals out there that can give you medical help.
• If you feel the need to inflict harm upon yourself, talk to someone.
• If you ever feel suicidal, please please please get yourself some help! Talk to someone. You’re not alone, I promise you that. 
• Teach your children to be a kind soul in this cruel world.
• Don’t allow society to define beauty. Who said fat is an insult? Who defined fat as not normal?
• Don’t follow society’s expectations. Follow Allah’s expectations. Because following Allah’s expectations will make you successful in both worlds.
• Always be grateful. Allah has given you so much to be grateful for.
• Every single moment of your life has been preordained by Allah. Sometimes, He pressures you to make you beautiful, the same way coal is pressurized before becoming a diamond. So keep on persevering, things will get better.
• Be kind.


•••

Any comments, ideas or constructive criticism is more than welcome. I love hearing your thoughts and reading all your comments.

•••

It is only through Allah that I am able to write and it is only through Him that I can pass on lessons. Alhumdullillah!

JazakAllah to each and every one of you for reading this story. If it has inspired you, motivated you or even helped you re-evaluate your life, my goal has been reached. May Allah bless us with the best in this world and the next. Ameen.

Love and duas