Her Hopeless Heart

March 21, 2018 The Muse Drop 3 Comments

*Kindly note that the authors name is a pseudonym

Prologue

"Zuhaira?" Rayyaan called out sadly.

Zuhaira ignored her thobe clad husband and coated her lashes in mascara one more time.

"Zuhaira?" He said again, hoping that she would glance in his direction.

Again, she ignored him. She stared at her reflection in the broken mirror and smiled in satisfaction. She looked hot with the short top that bared her midriff and the tiny skirt that barely left anything to the imagination. Her six inch heels hugged her feet and the straps were neatly wrapped around her calves.

"Zuhaira?" Rayyaan called out again, his voice laced with pain and hurt.

"What?" Zuhaira asked icily. "What the hell do you want from me?" She asked in irritation.

"Where are you going tonight?" He asked.

"To party. Not that it is any of YOUR concern!" 

"Don't go... Please!" H
e pleaded softly.

"And spend the night listening to your holier than thou lectures? I don't think so."

"Zuhaira, I am your husband. Please don't do this."

She turned on her heel and looked him dead in the eye. "Unfortunately you are. And the only reason I married you was so that I could get out of my parent's poor home. I thought that marrying you will relieve me of poverty, but boy! Was I wrong! You could have at least told me that you were on the brink of losing your job. I would have never married you!" Her hurtful words pierced his soul and he looked away with tears in his eyes.

"I care about you," he said ignoring her sharp words. "And you will get a sin for every lustful gaze that is cast upon you. I want us to enter Jannah together."

"Whatever. Go and give your lectures in the mosque. I'm not interested in listening to you drone on and on about what a bad person I am."

"I don't think you're a bad person habibti."

"Sure you don't. Anyway, I'm not wasting another second by having this futile conversation with you. Don't wait up."

The tears fell from Rayyaan's eyes and he tried to hide them. His wife never listened to him. He was the Imam of the local masjid and his wife was an avid party-goer. He would often hear the rumors about his wife but he chose to remain silent.

He thought about his mother, Fatima, again.

"Just divorce that girl! So shameless she is! She doesn't love you!" his mother argued.

"No ma. I can be the reason she changes her life around and I want to do it. I love her."

How can you love her when she doesn't love you back? She doesn't even care about you. That girl is a no good, I tell you!"

"Because the day I made nikah with her, Allah had filled my heart with love for her. She has some good qualities too."

"Like what? That girl doesn't even cook for you!"

"She doesn't speak about anyone."

"I don't know why you so stubborn! Look at your brother, he married such a haari poiri and he is so happy. You married this girl and you are never happy. Do you hear what the people say?" his mother asked in annoyance.

"I know ma. I know that people speak about her and wonder why I am with her. But it is no ones business. We will both enter Jannah together, In Sha Allah."

"Hmph!" his mother grumbled. Initially, Zuhaira had won over Fatima's heart. However, shortly after the nikah, Zuhaira showed her true colours. Fatima was not a fan of the girl. 

Rayyaan shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts. He would not be able to rest until his wife came home.

He paced the little flat that they shared and continuously ran his fingers through his hair. He would spend the next few hours in complete worry. He began to recite the quraan from his memory as he continued to walk around the house. He was anxious and afraid for the woman he loved. But she didn't seem to realise how deep his love for her went.

It felt like forever before Rayyaan heard the click of the door. He watched as a drunk Zuhaira clumsily walked into the house, her skirt looking even shorter than before. She was oblivious to the dreaded look on her husband's face. It wasn't something new. Yet, every time it happened, Rayyaan could not help the feeling of dread that would pulse through him. These were the moments that he would contemplate divorce. But the very word shook him to his core. He was madly in love with his wife and even if it killed him, he would try to bring her closer to Allah.
 


Chapter 1

Seventeen year old Zuhaira Karani adjusted her short school skirt in the mirror before applying a new coat of lip gloss. She smiled at her reflection, satisfied with the way she looked.

Zuhaira attended a private high school which was nestled in the quiet streets of Sandown. It was one of the most elite schools in Johannesburg, boasting money and power. 

She was just about to walk out of the bathroom when the small tear at the edge of her shirt caught her eye. She looked around her before carefully examining it. She swore under her breath and tucked it away. 

Just then, Layla walked in. Zuhaira flashed her a million dollar smile before air kissing her. 

"Zuuu!" Layla squealed in delight. Layla was the most popular girl in school. Her father was one of the biggest sponsors of the affluent learning institution. 

"I haven't seen you today," Zuhaira drawled in her polished English. 

"I haven't been around," Layla winked, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Anyway, we're heading to that new milkshake bar during the last period. Care to join?"

Zuhaira shook her head. "You guys go ahead."

"You don't ever join us for our last lesson escapades!" Layla complained as she coated her lashes with mascara. "Why do you have to be so boring sometimes?"

Zuhaira laughed and shrugged, trying hard to keep the longing out of her voice. "You know me, I'm a nerd."

Layla giggled. "My favourite nerd - who lets her hair down on weekends..." she lowered her voice before continuing, "You're joining us this weekend, right?"

"Yip. I wouldn't miss it."

After exchanging a few more words, the girls walked out of the bathroom and went their separate ways. The bright smile that had graced Zuhaira's face earlier disappeared. 

Zuhaira Karani appeared to be the girl who had it all. She had a killer body, dark chestnut hair and deep hazel eyes which were framed by her pretty lashes. She had a petite nose and small, plump lips. She was not the most gorgeous girl in school, no. She was the girl-next-door type of pretty. Her simple looks coupled with her confidence often created the illusion that she was stunning. And Zuhaira owned it. She oozed confidence with grace and charm, easily maneuvering herself into the most sought after cliques. 

But she had a secret. She didn't belong in the world of monetary pleasures. She did not come from a rich family and she did not stay in one of the mansions of Sandton. In fact, she stayed in a tiny house that was practically falling apart on the outskirts of Sandton and often had to take public transport to get to school. Apart from that, there were days that her father struggled to put food on the table. Her parent's would have never been able to afford this school but she had worked hard and gained a scholarship. No one knew this about her, apart from the principal. She managed to keep her poverty a secret, often ensuring that she was early to school so no one would see her walking. In the afternoons, she would wait until most of the crowd disappeared before walking to the primary school which was a good few blocks away. If any of her classmates saw her walking, she would often use the excuse of the fresh air calming her nerves. 

Sometimes she would meet a rich boy who clearly grew up in wealth and she would sweet talk him into dropping her off to school. With his fancy car and narcissistic habits, Zuhaira gained the impressed looks of her classmates. 

She had perfected the art of pretending to be born into luxury. On the contrary, she was actually born into sordid poverty. It was a world that she often wished that she had never been born into. She believed it to be a curse. Often, she would blame her parents. If it had not been for her self-righteous father, the Karani family would have not been poor. Her grandfather had been a man of greed, obtaining money from illegal sources and living the high life. He used to have many contacts within the government and more often than not, he would benefit from the riches he earned through dishonesty. Zuhaira's father could not tolerate this way of life and from a young age, he insisted on making his own way in this world - with honesty and by abiding the law. 

Unfortunately, he could never make enough money to lead a comfortable life. In fact, he struggled to make ends meet. With a family of four, Zuhaira's father worked endlessly, dead set on earning money the correct way. His hands were often bruised and cut, as he worked as a steel collector and reseller. It was laborious and tiring. His face told the story of the toll his work had taken on him.

Zuhaira was convinced that her father was pathetic. She would blame him for her simple lifestyle. She did not realise that her father, Humayd, tried hard to keep his family happy. Since he could not keep them comfortable, he would shower them with life's simple pleasures. He would show them his love and kindness, he would spend time with them even on the days he looked like he was about to collapse. Salma, Zuhaira's mother, also followed in her husband's footsteps. Zuhaira would ignore her family more often than not. She only had a soft spot for her younger brother, Zubair. He was only two years old and the only one who could make her smile in the Karani household.

As she walked home from school in the fresh summer breeze, she took a deep breath. She did not want to go home, it was depressing. Her room was barely even a room, it was more of a closet. The zinc roof often soaked in the sun on warmer days, resulting in excruciating heat. 

She slowly made her way to her favourite hideaway. Hidden behind wild shrubs lay a large rock overlooking a clear opening. It was Zuhaira's thinking spot. 

Frequently, she would spend hours here, away from the reality that she so desperately tried to run away from, for it was a reality that she did not want to exist in. It was a reality she hated with all her heart, one which was absurd in her shallow, teenage mind.

Chapter 2

Zuhaira entered her house and mumbled a greeting, barely looking at her mother. She planted a kiss on her brother's cheek and made her way to her tiny room. She plugged her old iPhone into the charger and flopped onto the bed. She had never been able to afford a smartphone in the first place. It was her ex boyfriend's old phone that he had no longer needed. Zuhaira had used the excuse that her current phone had broken and he graciously offered her his iPhone. She had been ecstatic. 

"Zuhaira!" her mother, Salma, called.

She grunted in reply and continued to furiously type away a text message. 

"Zuhaira!" her mother called again, this time louder than before. 

Again, Zuhaira ignored her, too engrossed in her social media status than what her mother would say.

Salma barged into the room, clearly agitated. "Zuhaira, please will you help me? I'm trying to cook and Zubair won't stop crying."

Zuhaira turned an icy glare towards her mother. "He is not my child. I don't have to look after him. You shouldn't have kids if you can't look after them."

Salma sucked in a hurt breath. Her daughter would often use words that would slash straight through her fragile heart. She choked back tears and walked away. 

Zuhaira's hurtful remarks and utter disdain for her parents would never fall short. Her sharp tongue would leave her parents in tears, having them question themselves about their daughter's hatred. Nonetheless, Humayd and Salma continued to shower their ungrateful daughter with love and time. 

She kicked her room door closed and buried herself under her covers in order to drown out her brother's cries. 

Zuhaira woke up with a start as she heard her father call her name. She glanced at the time on her phone and groggily got up. It was supper time - if dry bread and canned baked beans could be considered as supper. This was the staple in the Karani household, much to Zuhaira's sheer dislike.

She made her way to the tiny lounge, where a battered table cloth lay upon the floor. Her father greeted her and she mumbled a reply before sitting down.

"Zuhaira, my child, please cover your legs," Humayd told his daughter. "It's not nice to dress like that." Humayd, like Salma, was very soft. Both parents rarely raised their voices to their stubborn daughter.

Zuhaira glared at her father and ignored his comment. 

Just then, Salma placed a steaming pot on the floor and a delicious scent wafted through the air. Zuahira's curiosity was piqued. She was so sure they would eat baked beans again tonight.

That night, Zuhaira ate the chicken soup to her fill. The dry bread actually worked very well with the steaming soup. She felt happier than usual, she actually made small talk with her parents and helped her mother clear up.

For the first time in a very long time, every member of the Karani family had a smile on their face. But it was short lived. 

The moment Zuhaira retreated to her room, the smile vanished from her face. A tiny mouse whizzed past her and she stifled a scream before grabbing the grass broom that held her tiny window open. She charged for the annoying creature before pouncing on it with the broom. She stare at the lifeless mouse in disgust before muttering profanities under her breath. This was rarely an unusual occurrence. Unfortunately, through the years, Zuhaira became immune to constant findings of mouse droppings. She would often take care of them herself because her mother was terrified of them and her father would only be home at night. After discarding the mouse, Zuhaira washed her hands thoroughly and sprinkled rat poison around the circumference of the room.

The dark, cramped room felt as if it was suffocating her. She groaned in annoyance and flopped onto her bed as she grabbed her phone. Layla had sent her numerous texts, reminding her of the shopping spree that she had planned for the upcoming party. Zuhaira groaned again, she knew that she could not get out of this one.

She reached under her bed and pulled out a box which held several wads of cash. It was her savings which she had accumulated from previous jobs, allowances and returning some absurd gifts which she had received. 

She isolated a few notes, knowing full well that she would not spend it at the mall. Instead, she would purchase good quality knock offs during her own shopping spree. But she had to pretend that she would make a few purchases or buy random items, only to return it later so that her friends wouldn't question her modest spending habits.

Zuhaira was good at pretending. She knew how to fit in and how to pretend to afford ostentatious items. 

She scrolled through her contact list and selected 'Ameer'. Ameer had been a dorky, rich kid from a rival school and he had always had a crush on her. Fortunately for Zuhaira, he was willing to do anything for her.

"Ameer!" She squealed into the phone in mock delight.

"Zuhaira?" The uncertainty in his voice was prevalent.

She giggled in fake flirtation, eager to get on with the conversation. "Yip, it's me. I'm sorry I didn't reply to your last message, I was busy and my phone is giving me problems."

"Do you need-"

She cut him off. "Will you be free tomorrow evening?"

"Yes. Yes, I will." The eager tone in is voice was impossible to miss.

Zuhaira rolled her eyes. "Would you like to join me for a massage?" She knew that if he came with her, he would readily take care of the expenses.

"Definitely!" he replied. "Should I make the bookings?"

Zuhaira agreed and said, "Separate rooms though!" It wasn't the first time that she had used him to take her for a massage. On various occasions, she had merely brought up the topic and he had grasped at the opportunity. At least now she could show off in front of her friends and leave their shopping spree early.

Chapter 3

Early the next day, Zuhaira jumped out of bed and got ready for school. She slipped on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. She would shower at school as she did everyday.

As usual, she got to school before anyone else. She made her way to the comfortable bathroom on the ground floor behind the tennis courts. The bathroom had multiple showers and she knew that she would probably get more hot water out of the school shower than she would at home.

She slipped on her school uniform from the previous day and expertly hid the tiny hole of her shirt. She knew that she needed a new uniform but she also knew that they were incredibly expensive. 

Later that day, Zuhaira met her group of friends. Layla, Nuzhaa, Aalia and Rumaana were waiting for her in a fancy new BMW. Zuhaira stopped short.

"Get in!" Aalia yelled excitedly.

"Whose car is this?" Zuhaira asked.

"It's my dad's. He said he'll be getting me the same one once I get my license. So for now, I use this to practice."

Zuhaira almost choked. Her father drove an old beetle which was practically falling apart. The back windows were broken and covered with plastic and he almost always had to drive it in the slow lane.

"My father said he'll be getting me an Audi when I turn eighteen," Layla drawled as she filed her nails.

Zuhaira tuned them out as she made herself comfortable in the soft, plush seats. She inserted her ear phones into her ear so that she would not have to listen to her friends talking about getting everything that they wanted.

Nuzhaa nudged Zuhaira. "What about you?" she asked.

Zuhaira looked at her in confusion. "Huh?"

"Layla was asking if you're planning on throwing an eighteenth bash this year?"

"That depends on how well I'm doing in school," Zuhaira replied smoothly, although her heart rate had accelerated.

"Well, I'm definitely gona throw a party!" Nuzhaa said. "My parents probably won't be around in any case. They're never around." 

Zuhaira thought she heard a trace of disdain splashed in Nuzhaa's voice. "You're so lucky. My parents are around often," she muttered. 

Zuhaira's friends often complained that their parents were never around. They would involve themselves in outrageous activities just so that they could grab the attention of their parents. Zuhaira would also pretend that her parents never listened to her, although it was a total lie. Salma and Humayd were always interested in what Zuhaira had to say but she was the one who wasn't interested in sharing her life with them.

She could not understand why her friends craved the attention of their parents when they had everything that they wanted. To her, it was foreign. It didn't make sense. After all, her friends monthly allowances would probably make up her father's annual salary.

Later that afternoon, Ameer picked up Zuhaira from the mall. He came in a sleek, black BMW, much to the impressive looks of her friends. Zuhaira was glad that his windows were tinted, her friends wouldn't know it was Ameer, whom they often referred to as a loser.

When they arrived at the elite massage parlor, they were ushered to their separate rooms.

By the time the weekend had rolled around, Zuhaira was more than ready for the party. She had been feeling extra stressed out lately and she felt that she needed to let her hair down and drink her worries away.

"Mummy, I'm going to stay over by Layla this weekend," Zuhaira told her mother.

Salma and Humayd exchanged worried glances. They did not approve of their daughter spending time with her rich friends. They had already influenced her tremendously. But both parents knew that the more they told Zuhaira not to do things, the more she would rebel. It had happened time and time again. "Will her parents be there?" Salma asked, trying hard to keep the worry out of her voice.

"Yeah, yeah. And no. Don't ask if you can call them again. I'll be damned if my friends found out who we really are and where we live. It would be a complete embarrassment." Since Layla had offered Zuhaira to stay over by her, Zuhaira had readily agreed. That way, she wouldn't have to sneak out of the house.

"We just don't want you to get hurt," Humayd told his daughter.

She rolled her eyes at him. "I'll be fine," she snapped.

She packed the fake, fancy Louis Vuitton suit case that she once purchased and made her way toward school. She had asked Ameer to pick her up from the school and take her to Layla's house.

When Zuhaira reached the sprawling mansion, the breath was knocked out of her. As usual, she was impressed with Layla's beautiful house. It wasn't the first time she had visited her friend, yet every time she was taken aback.

Later that day, the squealing group of girls began to get ready. Clothes were strewn all over Layla's huge room and shoes were everywhere. 

Zuhaira lifted the faux leather skirt she had. "Oh no! I think I wore this already! I packed the wrong skirt!" she said with fake disdain.

Layla opened up her massive closet. "Everything on the right is brand new. It doesn't fit me. Take whatever you want."

Zuhaira smiled in satisfaction. She knew that her friend would offer her brand new, high end attire. The last time, Zuhaira had purposely spilled coffee all over her outfit and Layla had insisted that she change into one of her outfits. Zuhaira did not need much persuasion, it had been her plan all along.

As she sifted through the large selection of clothing, she yearned to live a lifestyle like these girls. She really did wish that she could swap lives with them. She selected a short, black dress and glanced at the price tag. She almost fainted when she saw the exorbitant number with the many zero's.

She pulled out another dress which was even more expensive. She looked around to ensure that no one was watching and she wrapped it up before casually shoving it into her bag. She knew her friend had offered her anything but she didn't want them to know that she was taking more than they thought she needed. Throughout the afternoon, Zuhaira kept selecting certain items and stuffing it into her bag. None of her friends had noticed a thing.

"She offered, it's not stealing." Zuhaira told herself for the hundredth time that night.
 


Chapter 4

The group of young girls stumbled into the house in the wee hours of the morning.

Rumaana's eyes widened as Layla screeched in laughter.

"Shh! Someone will hear us!" she whispered worriedly.

Layla giggled. "No, my parents aren't even around. I thought we'd have to sneak back in but I got a text from them earlier," she slurred. "They. Are. Not. Home." she said as she danced around her friend.

Nuzhaa ran to the closest bathroom and gagged loudly before throwing up. She exited the bathroom and said, "Vodka is not for me apparently." She covered her mouth and ran back to the bathroom.

Zuhaira grabbed Aalia. "I'm not done partying. Let's dance!" she practically screamed. Layla joined them as Rumaana blasted the music through the surround sound speakers. 

An hour later, the young girls had migrated to Layla's room and were sprawled all over, too tired and too drunk to care where they slept.

The next morning, Zuhaira got up with a thumping headache and groaned. The sun was too bright and every sound seemed too loud.

Layla walked in, a chirpy smile on her face. "Rise and shine!" she announced loudly.

Every single girl groaned. "Stop shouting," Zuhaira groaned irritably. "My head is pounding."

"I know! That's why I made you guys this drink. It cures hangovers. Look at me! I'm as good as new!"

The girls took the concoction that Layla had prepared and two hours later, Zuhaira felt ready to face the world.

Later that day, Zuhaira quietly walked into the house. She didn't feel like seeing her family members and with such a small house, it was hard to avoid them. Her weekends usually passed in this way; she would try hard to ignore her family and spend time with her friends.

She bumped into her mother and inwardly groaned.

"Assalaamualikum Zuhaira," her mother greeted.

Zuhaira mumbled a reply and turned to walk to her room.

"Are you not going to tell me about your sleepover?" Salma asked.

"It was fine," Zuhaira said in slight irritation. 

"You used to tell me everything before," Salma whispered. "You would give me details about your day when you were little..." she trailed off, a look of nostalgia passing through her face.

"I'm not a little girl anymore!" Zuhaira retorted under her breath just as her brother screamed, drowning out her rude response.

She quickly padded to her room and began to unpack her bag. It was filled with the many beautiful souvenirs of Layla's large closet. She gently touched the fabric of the expensive pieces of clothing before deciding which ones she would sell and which ones she would keep.

Her mind drifted to the forlorn look on her friend’s faces when she spoke about her parents. Zuhaira could not understand why her friends yearned for the attention of their families when they had everything they wanted. With a snap of their fingers, a gourmet meal would be prepared. Often they would purchase items for exorbitant amounts with a swipe of their cards. Zuhaira was envious of her friends. When she thought about it, she could not relate. She had the love of both of her parents - but she wanted more. Love was not a priority in her materialistic life. She wanted everything that money could buy. 

Zuhaira sighed in frustration as she put everything away. She reached for her phone, her heart hurting as she scrolled through social media. Every single person had a picture of something she wanted, from exotic holiday destinations to the trendiest handbag.

She was shallow and she did not care.

She needed to leave the house of her parents. She wanted happiness. And to her, happiness lay within materialism. 

The weeks started to fly by. It was during Nuzhaa's fancy eighteenth birthday party when Zuhaira met him. He was ever so handsome, ever so attractive. His dark hair was perfectly styled and his dark eyes were mysterious and captivating. He was slender, but built. He wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his tanned arms. His jeans hung perfectly from his waist. He was lighting up a cigarette when he caught Zuhaira staring at him. He smiled arrogantly as Zuhaira turned away, pretending not to care.

But Zuhaira could not get the handsome stranger out of her head. She danced with her friends in the large hallway which had been turned into a dance floor. A good few guys had tried to chat her up and Zuhaira had pretended to flirt with them. She was an award winning actress.

She caught the handsome stranger laughing with another girl, his hand trailing down her bare arm. Zuhaira rolled her eyes and decided to get some fresh air. She walked onto the quiet balcony and rested her arms on the railings. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, imagining that this was her life. Just then, a deep voice cut through her thoughts. She turned in surprise and came face to face with the handsome stranger.

"What is a beautiful woman like you doing out here all alone?" he drawled flirtatiously.

Zuhaira had to calm her nerves. He was even more handsome up close. "The fresh air is addictive," she mused, almost uninterestedly. She didn't want to seem too eager. 

He laughed and took a step closer to her. "Is that so?" he whispered.

Zuhaira turned away from him and leaned against the railing again. "Uh huh..."

He took the place beside her. "I'm Imraan, by the way."

Zuhaira turned to him and smirked. "Is that so?" she asked, raising her perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"Are you not going to give me your name?" he whispered, his lips inches away from her ear. 

She shivered and cleared her throat. "Zuhaira," she said.

Zuhaira and Imraan chatted into the wee hours of the morning. She knew that there was chemistry between them, she had felt it as his hand had brushed hers carelessly. He hung on to her every word, as if she were the most interesting person in the world. They talked about everything; dreams, hopes, the past and the future. She was extra cautious in not revealing the truth about herself. For the first time in her life, Zuhaira was falling for someone. Imraan was charming and drop dead gorgeous. She ensured that she oozed confidence, knowing that it was her strongest trait. It worked well because he was attracted to her too.

They exchanged numbers before parting ways. It was already six in the morning. They walked back into the house and were greeted by a large mess and many sleeping guests.

"I guess I should get going..." Imraan suggested, his eyes not leaving Zuhaira's.

She swallowed hard, his gaze making her nervous. "Sure," she said. "I'll walk you to the door.

They walked in silence to the large door and stepped outside. He grabbed her hands as she turned to face him. "I had a great night tonight," he whispered, his voice sultry.

"So did I." Zuhaira whispered.

Before she realized what was happening, his lips were on hers. She savoured the moment, not wanting to break away.

He broke away, leaving her breathless, and winked. "I'll keep in touch," he suggested.

She walked back into the house, a dreamy look on her face.

Her friends stared at her, impatient looks on their faces. She brushed passed them, oblivious to their inquisitive stares.

"So?" Rumaana asked as Aalia grabbed Zuhaira's hand. "Tell us everything!"

"Huh?" Zuhaira asked.

"About you and Nuzhaa's cousin."

"Huh?" Zuhaira asked again, dumbfounded.

"Imraan!" Nuzhaa piped up. "He's my cousin - well my third cousin that is."

Zuhaira stared at her friend, unsure of what to say. She calmed her nerves and tried to focus her thoughts before smiling at her friends. "I don't kiss and tell," she said jokingly.
 

Chapter 5

Zuhaira and Imraan began to spend more and more time together, eventually forming a steady relationship.

The days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months. At first, it was all flowers and kisses. Imraan was a perfect gentleman; sweet and caring. He would treat Zuhaira as if she were a queen and he would shower her with countless gifts. She had a gorgeous, older boy on her arm, much to the envy of her friends.

As the relationship evolved, so did Zuhaira's feelings. She constantly craved his touch, his warm breath against her cheek, his strong hold, his delicious scent. Every time she would see him, her tummy would explode in butterflies and her knees would feel weak. He made her feel things she had never felt before.

Apart from the physical attraction she felt for Imraan, she also felt a deeper attraction. An attraction that hugged emotions and feelings.

She fell in love with Imraan. It started off with late night calls and weekend meetings. She always told Imraan that her parents would kill her, were they to find out about their relationship. With that, Imraan knew that he could not drop her off at her house. 

To her, Imraan was the epitome of perfection. He was everything that she ever wanted in a man. He was handsome, sweet, caring and he loved gifting her. Zuhaira was falling too deep and too fast. It was all happening too quickly. It came to a point that she actually began imagining her future with him. She knew that if she built a life with him, she would be living the life of riches and royalty, something that she so often had craved for.

But for the first time in her life, Zuhaira put money at the end of her list. She did not need money if she had Imraan. He treated her as a queen and she honestly believed that that was all she needed in her life. After all, she had hopelessly and completely fallen in love with him.

Imraan too, claimed to love her back. Her I-love-you's were reciprocated by his I-love-you-too's. They seemed to be the perfect couple with the perfect relationship.

But that all changed one night.

Imraan and Zuhaira were parked off in a deserted parking lot. They whispered sweet nothings to each other, declaring their everlasting love. But when Imraan unhooked Zuhaira's bra, she pushed him away.

"What are you doing?" she asked breathlessly.

He smirked. "Come on, I know you want this," he whispered seductively in her ear. He advanced towards her again and covered her mouth with his, drowning out the protest that was about to leave her lips.

She shoved him away again. "No, I don't!" she said firmly. Softening her voice, she said, "What's gotten into you, baby?"

"We've been going out for two months already! It's about time we seal the deal." His voice was laced with frustration. He dropped his voice to a seductive whisper and scooted closer to Zuhaira. "And like I said, I know you want this too..." His hand traced the length of her thigh.

"NO!" she practically screamed. "Stop it!" Although Zuhaira was no angel, she had not had an intimate relationship with a man before. Apart from hugs and kisses, she would not allow a man to take it any further than that, unless she initiated it.

Anger flashed across Imraan's face. "Give me what I want!" he said, his tone menacing.

"Imraan, please...Stop acting like this..." she pleaded.

But Imraan was uninterested in her feeble pleas. He advanced towards her again and growled, "Shhh..."

Zuhaira's eyes widened and before she realized it, her instincts had kicked in. She kicked him in the groin, hard. He doubled over in pain and Zuhaira's hands flew to her mouth. "Ohmygosh! I'm sorry!" she said, her voice frantic.

Imraan was not listening to her, he was too engrossed in the pain that coursed through him. After a few minutes, his painful moans subsided and his face cleared. He looked up at Zuhaira.

"Baby-" She was cut off by the hand that connected with her face. Her face burned and tears began to stream down her face. Imraan had just hit her. The sting did not subside with the passing minutes. Zuhaira held onto her cheek, too shocked to move. The tears that she had not used in years cascaded down her face as the pain coursed through her. It was not just the pain of the slap, it was the pain that the man she loved had caused.

Zuhaira finally came back to her senses. Wordlessly, she opened the car door but Imraan stopped her.

"I'm. So. Sorry." Imraan said between gasps. "Zu, I am... So sorry."

Zuhaira tried to ignore him but he would not allow her to. He continued to apologise, his voice thick with emotion. She did not want to believe him, but for some reason, she did.

And so, Zuhaira accepted his apology and the two made up.

But it was this incident that led to a flurry of many more incidents.

Once when Zuhaira had arrived late for a date, Imraan's dark mood had already taken over. When she had changed her mind about her order for the third time, Imraan had gripped her wrist and kicked her shin. She had bit her lip to keep from screaming in pain. But once again, he aplogised for his putrid behavior and she forgave him. He showered her with gifts, declaring his love for her.

On one occasion, Zuhaira had mistakenly stepped on Imraan's brand new, ice white shoe. He shook her in anger before slapping her across her face. She had pushed him back, her own anger surfacing and he ended up throwing her to the ground before kicking her around. Again, he apologised and gifted her, swearing that he would never do it again.

Since that one fateful day, every time Imraan would get upset, he would raise his hand on Zuhaira. Sometimes, she would try to fight back but that would lead to more abuse.

She would try hard to cover up the bruises but now and again she would miss a mark or two. Her friends often questioned her about the dark blue marks that she had overlooked and she would tell them it was the self defence course that she was trying out. 

She was too embarrassed to let people know that she had allowed someone to get the better of her. Zuhaira was not the type of girl that allowed people to mess with her, but she had fallen far too deep. She didn't want to leave him as her love for him overpowered her rational thinking.

She would make excuses to herself for his rotten behavior, convincing herself that this time was the last time.

But it never was.
 
Chapter 6

Zuhaira tried hard to act normal around her friends and family but she could feel herself slipping into a depression.

The sordid wounds had not only scarred her exterior, but it had also scarred her interior. She was falling into a deep, dark hole that encompassed sadness.

She was enveloped by unhappiness as it wrapped its strong arms around her frail body. Her confidence was frayed by the wounds that kissed her skin and trapped her heart.

She began to feel broken, unworthy. The clutches of abuse tattooed itself in the darkest crevices of her mind, its remnants leaving a whirlwind of dust which travelled throughout her body. 

She grasped for normality but it was too far out of reach. She was sinking into a depressive hole which catered only for her lonely heart. And the tears that she had not used in so many years would continually flow from her pained eyes. 

But she could not allow the abuse she encountered to take over her life. She gave herself a pep talk, reminding herself that she was far too precious to be treated as a punching bag. Her confidence had wavered ever since Imraan had slapped her. 

Enough was enough. Zuhaira arrived at school earlier than usual and made her way to the councilor’s office. Luckily, the pretty teacher was there, sitting at her desk and going through a file.

Zuhaira knocked on the door. "Hi, Mrs Khan?"

"Zuhaira! Come on in!" She removed the glasses that had been resting on her nose. "What can I do for you today?" she asked with a friendly smile.

And so, Zuhaira revealed her relationship with Imraan, leaving no detail out, apart from her poverty. And as the words of his abuse left her lips, Zuhaira could feel herself break with the magnitude of her words. Mrs Khan listened quietly, allowing Zuhaira to complete her story.

She hiccupped and sniffed as she came to the end of the story, too embarrassed to look her in the eye. But Mrs Khan was a wonder woman, she gently took Zuhaira's hand and spoke to her in a soothing tone. She reminded her of the confidence she possessed and the strong girl she had grown up to be. With her kind words and soothing aura, Zuhaira felt much better.

She quickly washed her face and applied minimal makeup so that she would look presentable before approaching the rest of the school. With the coaxing of Mrs Khan, she took a few deep breaths so that her breathing was even and exited the room with a smile on her face.

Zuhaira knew that she needed to get rid of Imraan in her life but she was not quite ready to give up on the man she loved. In the mean time, she decided that she would stand up for herself. She was a strong, independent woman. She was not a measly weakling that needed a man for her validation. She just needed a man with money since her father could not give her what she wanted.

So when she met Imraan for coffee later that week and he had tried to hit her, she had pushed him. 

"Don't touch me!" she growled.

He looked at her in anger and charged towards her but she moved out of the way. "You little bitch!" he seethed. This time he grabbed both her arms and pinned her against the wall. Her pushed his body against hers, his weight rendering her paralyzed.

"I'm sorry." Zuhaira whimpered.

He loosened his grasp and she took the opportunity to move away from the wall. As she turned towards him, she slapped him across the face. 

The fire in his eyes burned right through her. For the first time in her life, Zuhaira was scared, terrified that Imraan might kill her. He lunged towards her and she dodged his grasp by a fraction of an inch. She gasped in fear, hoping that he would just leave her alone. She tried to tell herself to break up with him but the words refused to leave her mouth.

And when he lunged for her again, she moved a second too late. His hands circled her throat and she gasped for air. "Imraan!" she pleaded, her voice raspy. "Please... stop..."

The anger in his eyes subsided as he noticed the pain and fear in his girlfriend's eyes. He slowly loosened his grip and Zuhaira began to slide to the floor, too weak to continue to stand. He crumpled to the ground with her, whispering apologies, promising that he would not hurt her again and insisting that he had not meant to hurt her. She was too weak to protest and so, she remained silent.

The next day, he met Zuhaira after school. She tried to ignore him as she walked past his brand new Mercedes Benz, but he would not let her. He begged her to get into the car, swearing that he would not hurt her. His voice began to get louder and Zuhaira was afraid that her friends would hear him. To shut him up, she got into the car and looked straight ahead, barely acknowledging him. He drove towards the mall, all the while apologising for his terrible behaviour. She was sure that she heard the crack in his voice so she turned slightly and noticed the tears streaming down his face. 

Imraan parked off and got out of the car. When he got back in, his hands were full of gifts. He handed Zuhaira a brand new perfume, a Jimmy Choo handbag, Cartier bracelet, a Gucci coat and a Tag Heuer watch. Zuhaira's eyes nearly popped out of her head when she saw the little gifts. No one had ever gifted her with this many goodies before. She knew the value of it would most probably surpass every cent her father had ever made.

She tried to ignore Imraan though, she was playing hard to get. And as much as her heart yearned for the gifts, she first wanted Imraan to beg for her forgiveness.

But it was a never ending cycle. Each time they fought, he would hurt her, apologise and gift her. Zuhaira just did not seem to learn. She allowed her heart to stray from love so that she would not hurt as much the next time he hurt her. And it worked. She began concentrating on the gifts she would get, although she always dreaded his anger.

She knew that if she weaned her heart off of him, it would be easier to leave him. And so, she allowed her heart to go cold, to give up on love altogether. At first, it seemed impossible, she had fallen too deep. But with each passing day, it became easier. So much so, that eventually she was nothing more than a stone-cold girl. Her heart had hardened to rock. She was colder than she had been before she had met Imraan. She tried hard to ignore the emotions that would creep up on her on the rare occasion.

One day, she noticed her mother praying. She decided to join her for a prayer. And when she completed, she got up and did not bother praying another prayer. She felt hopeless. As if her prayer was futile. 

But how do you taste the sweetness of Imaan if you're fasting from the flavour of faith?

And that was her flaw. She could not gain closeness to Allah because she refused to open her heart to Him.
 
Chapter 7

So Zuhaira continued with her ways, forgetting the day she had prayed. Yet, Salma did not give up hope. She continued to pray for her daughter, certain that her prayers would get answered one day.

When Zuhaira walked into the house that day, she went up to Zubair and kissed his forehead. He was the only one who could remotely soften her heart and make her feel love. She knew her three year old brother could not hurt her. He was innocent and pure.

Salma watched as Zuhaira picked him up and showered him with kisses before settling down with him. Her heart soared as she watched the beautiful sight, wishing that she could pause time.

But alas! Time has to move on, like the flow of water, it can never be paused.

Zuhaira's phone rang and Salma watched as her face darkened. She wished that her daughter would talk to her and tell her what was going on in her life. 

That evening, Salma cautiously approached Zuhaira.

"Zuhaira? I'm going to read my salaah now."

Zuhaira nodded without glancing in her mother's direction. But her mother did not move.

Zuhaira looked up in annoyance. "And?"

"Would you like to join me?"

She shook her head. "Carry on," she grumbled. 

Salma turned around sadly, her heart breaking yet again. She could not understand why her daughter refused to make the effort when it came to her deen. She knew that she would gain the contentment she had craved all her life if she turned to Allah for even a second. She needed to have faith because faith has the power to move mountains.

Her finals were coming up and Zuhaira was adamant in doing well. She needed the scholarships from the top universities that she had applied for. She wanted to become a doctor and if she could move away from her parents, it would be even better.

As her schooling career was coming to a close, Humayd had another idea. He wanted his daughter to get married, in the hopes that she would find the happiness she always seemed to crave. When she got home from school, he was waiting for her.

Zuhaira tried to ignore the fact that her father was home earlier than usual but he called her before she could disappear to her room. She sat across from both her parents and waited for them to speak.

When they remained silent she asked, "Well? What is it?"

They exchanged a nervous glance before Humayd took a deep breath. "Zuhaira, bheti, we need to talk... Don't take this the wrong way now." He paused for what seemed like ages. "After you finish school we thought it would be best for you to get married. We don't want to get rid of you. If it was my way, I'd keep you with me forever. But you're growing up now and soon you'll need a life partner."

Zuhaira rolled her eyes. "What about my studies?" she asked.

"You can get married and study at the same time," her father replied.

Much to her own surprise, Zuhaira found herself considering it. She needed to get out of this tiny house. Maybe it would not be the worst idea in the world. "I'll think about it," she said.

Humayd was flabbergasted. He tried to clear the look of surprise off his face. Salma was less obvious, she cleared her throat and smiled at her daughter.

Zuhaira went to her room, deep in thought. Maybe she should just get married. That way she would not have to stick around in her parents house. She was two minded about the situation so instead, she pushed it to the back of her mind and concentrated on her studies.

She was still with Imraan, although she saw less of him. She wanted to break up with him but she was just looking for the right time.

To her surprise, he was waiting for her outside school the next day.

"We didn't plan on meeting today," she told him.

"I know. But I've been missing you." Imraan replied. "We've barely seen each other recently." His eyes grazed her covered legs. "What happened to your skirt?" he asked her. 

Zuhaira had decided to wear the grey school pants instead of her usual tiny skirt as it had been chilly that morning. "I've been studying," she replied, slightly irritated with his unannounced visit. "It was cold this morning so I didn't feel like wearing my skirt."

"Well hop in, let's grab a coffee before you officially start with exams."

Zuhaira obliged, her irritation still prevalent. She decided that maybe it was time to break up with him and get out of his abusive clutches.

Instead of going to their usual coffee spot, Imraan stopped at a local park. "Why did you stop here?" Zuhaira asked.

"Let's just chill for a while. We can get coffee later."

Zuhaira rolled her eyes and got out of the car. She stretched and smoothed her untucked shirt. She lit a cigarette and leaned against the bonnet. Imraan joined her and the two smoked quietly. When Imraan was done, he threw the cigarette on the ground and stubbed it out before grabbing Zuhaira around the waist.

"Wait!" Zuhaira protested, pushing him away.

Imraan sighed in irritation. "What now?"

"We need to talk," she simply replied.

His eye's darkened. "About what?"

"Us..."

Imraan's face twisted in anger for a brief moment before he composed himself. "There's nothing to talk about," he said as he lit up another cigarette.

"Yes, there is," Zuhaira insisted.

He blew the smoke into her face, clearly uninterested in what she had to say. "Apparently so."

"I don't think this is working out," she muttered quickly.

Imraan froze before slowly exhaling the smoke. "What?" he asked softly.

"I just don't think you and I are meant to be." Zuhaira mumbled. "I want to break up with you."

His eyes flashed in anger and he threw his cigarette to the ground. "What?" he growled scarily.
 
Chapter 8

The look in his eyes scared Zuhaira and she shrunk back. Quickly, she grabbed his hands, hoping that she could ease the blow of her declaration. "Think about it," she whispered softly.

Imraan remained silent for a long time, clearly trying to steady his breathing. "There is nothing to think about," he said softly. "As far as I know, you're in love with me and I'm in love with you."

"Yes, but we keep hurting each other," she said, referring more to him hurting her than her hurting him.

"We need to work on ourselves," Imraan said thoughtfully. 

"Or maybe-" Zuhaira began.

"Maybe we just need a temporary break." Imraan interrupted.

"No!" Zuhaira said in frustration. "We can't keep doing this. I want out."

"Well too bad," he replied. "Now that you're with me, you're not going anywhere."

"I make my own choices," she replied heatedly. Zuhaira was not used to being told what to do and it was just as well because she did not take too well to it. "Don't tell me what to do. What gives you the right to tell me what to do?" She knew that she should try to keep her emotions in check but Imraan always seemed to fuel her.

He grabbed her wrist roughly. "I am your boyfriend, so what I say goes."

"Exactly. You're not my husband. You're just my boyfriend. You don't have the right to tell me what to do." She pulled her wrist away from him and took a subtle step back.

He had noticed her subtle step so he moved closer to her, his mouth inches away from her face. The anger on his face grew as each minute passed by. "How dare you talk to me like that?" he growled.

Zuhaira stepped away from him. "Leave me alone, Imraan! This relationship is over. I don't want you! You have hurt me over and over again and I will no longer tolerate your treatment! I am not your punching bag, nor am I your stress reliever! I've had enough. If you were really a man, you would never raise your hand on a woman. To me, you're nothing more than a low life coward! I wish I had never met you! You’re disgusting-"

His hand met her face and she spluttered. Zuhaira was angry, more angry than she had ever been. She had just about had enough and this time, she refused to stay silent. She tried to slap him but he caught her hand. She wrenched it free and pushed him away so hard that he stumbled backwards.

"Don't you dare talk to me with disrespect," he said quietly, his tone menacing.

"Don't you DARE raise a hand on me when you have no right to!" 

He lunged for her and tried to grab her throat but she moved away and shielded her neck. Instead, he kicked her shin and she bit back a scream. She stepped towards him and scratched him hard on the neck. He yelped in pain.

"You bitch! Whore!" he screamed.

Zuhaira grabbed her school bag in order to get away. "We're over," she said quietly.

"No, we're not. I'm not done with you, you worthless slut!"

"Whatever," she muttered as she walked away. She had barely walked more than two meters away when he called her again. The tone in his voice made her spin around and face him.

And that's when she saw it. He was holding a gun and it was pointed right at her.

She gasped, thinking that her eyes were playing tricks on her. She blinked hard and heard his evil laugh. He didn't even flinch when a scream escaped her mouth.

She began to back away but Imraan just walked towards her, closing the distance between them.

"Imraan," she said when he was close to her. "What are you doing?"

"You deserve to die, bitch!" He yelled, anger seeping out of him and creating droplets on his forehead.

"No. Imraan. You don't want to do this." Zuhaira backed away, terrified.

"Oh, but I do..." he said, his voice sounding almost careless. "I really, really do." He stepped closer to her, the mouth of the gun inches away from Zuhaira's chest.

Never in a million years had she expected to be in this situation. It was unheard of, something that only happened in books and movies. But here she was, a gun pointed straight at her by the man she had once thought she loved.

She shivered involuntarily, fear gripping her heart. At one stage she had believed that Imraan could never hurt her, that he was incapable of violence. Yet, at this very moment, he wanted to claim her life. Zuhaira was unsure as to whether he would actually have the guts to kill her or not. Right now, she did not know who the man in front of her was. 

Was his once loving personality just a mere figment of her imagination? Had she imagined their whole relationship, especially those first few wonderful months of bliss? How had she gotten from there to here? How did she get herself into this situation? How had she fallen in love and allowed her heart to break? Who was she?

Her life flashed before her eyes and in that moment she knew who she was. She was an ungrateful brat who only thought about herself and her own wants and needs.

Imraan took a step closer to her. The cold, metal head of the gun kissed her chest, his finger went to the trigger and the look in his eyes was malicious, evil, with no trace of remorse or sadness. 

Zuhaira closed her eyes and waited for the blow that would end her useless, materialistic life.
 
Chapter 9

A shuffle and a groan caused Zuhaira's eyes to fly open.

A young man with a full beard and a long thobe stood before Zuhaira. He had disarmed Imraan who was now groaning on the floor, his hand on his abdomen.

Zuhaira stared at the scene, more confused than ever.

"Are you okay?" the stranger asked her in concern.

She was too stunned to move so she robotically nodded.

The man crouched down in front of Imraan, "If you ever lay your hand on a female again, I will find you and you will be sorry." He was slightly larger than Imraan but still lean. It appeared that his strength had knocked Imraan right off his feet. He pushed the knee that held Imraan down deeper and Imraan groaned louder, his ribs taking the blow of the man's weight.

When it came to fighting another man, Imraan appeared weak and scared. But when it came to hurting women, he felt powerful. Zuhaira's gaze didn't waver as she watched in awe.

Oh, if only she had known that Imraan feared physical strength. Her futile attempts of hitting Imraan back had not made a difference but right now, beads of sweat were starting to form on his forehead and fear crossed his face.

The man got up and removed the bullets from the gun that Imraan had been holding a few minutes earlier. He placed the weapon on the ground, grabbed a nearby brick and slammed it down on the gun repeatedly. When he got up, small fragments from the skirting of the gun lay in pieces, the metal curving in odd angles. He picked it up and handed it to Imraan.

Imraan moaned, swearing away. He was upset that his gun had just been destroyed.

"You are clearly not responsible enough to own a gun. Leave!" the man ordered.

Instead of listening, Imraan took a step towards the man. He grabbed Imraan's arm and effortlessly twisted it. "Please brother, I really don't want to hurt you. Just leave."

Imraan yelped in pain before pulling his arm away. He scurried off to his car. In seconds, he was screeching away, the tyres sounding angry against the tar road.

"Are you okay?" the man asked Zuhaira.

Again, she just nodded. She was shaking in fear.

"Can I take you home?" he asked her, concern prevalent in his voice.

Again, she just nodded.

She directed him by pointing in the direction of her house. She was too shaken up to care what he thought about where she lived. When they reached, she quickly thanked him and exited the car. 

She got inside and went straight to her room, barely greeting her mother. When she finally calmed herself down, she realised that she had not even gotten the name of the man that had saved her. Hell, she barely even remembered what he had been wearing.

She was unusually quiet the next day, barely speaking. The events of the previous day had terrified her to her core, to such an extent that she felt that was withdrawing from society. 

Zuhaira threw herself into her studies in order to distract herself from reality and before she knew it, the exam period was up.

"Hey Zu!" Nuzhaa called out.

Zuhaira turned around and mustered up a smile. "Hey," she greeted.

"How's Imraan?" Nuzhaa asked.

Zuhaira shrugged. "We broke up, remember?"

"Oh right!" 

Zuhaira had told her friends about the break up but had not revealed any details. She was ashamed that she had been in such a vulnerable position.

"Anyway," Nuzhaa continued, "I was wondering if we could have the year end party at your place? I mean you haven't ever invited us before, you know?"

Zuhaira's eyes widened and she quickly made up an excuse. "My parents will be home."

"You don't even know when we want it, silly!"

"Yeah, but my parents are almost always home remember?" she said quickly.

But Zuhaira felt uneasy, her friend had not pressed the issue but she knew that she did not believe her either. So when she approached her home later that day, her heart sank.

Parked just opposite her tiny house was her friends car. Nuzhaa and Rumaana were perched in the front seats and it looked like no one was in the back seat. Zuhaira was just about to flee when they caught sight of her.

She heard the roof of the car fold in and saw their heads peak out from the top. They were yelling her name, laughing and pointing at her and the house.

They slowly approached her. "So, you pretended to be a rich bitch right?" Nuzhaa asked, a smirk on her pretty face.

"I don't live here," Zuhaira said weakly.

Rumaana shrieked in laughter. "You can't lie anymore sweetheart. We already went to ask your maid - I mean your mother - if you were home." She threw her head back and laughed as if she had heard the funniest joke in the world.

"Leave me alone," Zuhaira muttered.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you over the sound of how poor you are," Nuzhaa said.

"So what?" Zuhaira erupted. "So what if I'm not as rich as you? So what if I don't live like you? So freaking what?"

Rumaana raised an eyebrow. "Oh honey, you don't even live like a middle class citizen. And I had been under the impression that you were rich, I mean you are a Karani after all. I thought that you were related to Muneer Karani, that man was supposedly a legend."

"Muneer Karani was my grandfather. My father didn't want to follow in his footsteps, that's why I don't live decently," Zuhaira spat.

"Of course, because you and your family are just a bunch of goody-goody pretenders right?"

"No, we-"

"You're a liar and a fake. You just used us for our money. You are nothing more than a worthless little piece of crap who lied and manipulated her way into our lives. You don't deserve to hang out with us. You don't deserve our friendship. Although Layla and Aalia are slightly more lenient than us. They think that it doesn't matter. But it does. How can we associate ourselves with trash like you? You disgust us. You're nothing. Absolutely nothing. You don't belong in our world." Nuzhaa finished her rant with a look of hatred and a list of profanities before speeding off. 

The tears cascaded down Zuhaira's face as she ran inside the house.

"What's wrong?" her father asked in concern.

"It's your fault!" Zuhaira screeched before collapsing in a heap of tears.

 
Chapter 10

“What's my fault?" Humayd asked in confusion.

"If you were never too good for your own good, we could have been living comfortably. Instead, we're living in this shit hole! They found out today, and tomorrow the whole school will know. Thank goodness I don't ever have to go back. My last paper was today and I am so glad that I don't have to go tomorrow."

"I'm-" Humayd tried to say, but his daughter cut him off.

"To you, it's all about love and family. Love is pointless if you don't have money! I don't need love! I hate you! I hate this house! I hate this family!" The tears poured down her face as she continued with her rant. When she was done, she sped to her room in a twisted mess.

Zuhaira spent three days in her room, only coming out at night to grab a bite to eat. She wanted to avoid her family for as long as possible and she mostly succeeded.

She did really well in her final exams but only one university accepted her because she was an Indian-Muslim girl. Her heart broke when the other rejection letters came through. The colour of her skin played a major role in university acceptance due to the apartheid regime which had been abolished before she was even born. She had had her heart set on a university that was far away, possibly in Cape Town but that was just not written out for her.

Zuhaira and Humayd did not talk about her outburst. Instead, they both pretended as though it had never happened. Zuhaira moped around the house most of the time, devastated that she could not move away.

Layla had sent her a message, telling her to ignore Nuzhaa. But Layla was also irritated that Zuhaira had lied. The two kept in touch after sorting out their issues. Aalia had the same sentiments as Layla so when they went out, the three of them would go out together.

Nuzhaa had decided to have the year end party at her house and Zuhaira had been the only person that had not been invited. But Zuhaira was glad, she did not want to see Imraan ever again and she was pretty sure that he would be there.

Humayd walked into Zuhaira's room. "Zuhaira, this is for you," he said as he handed her a sealed envelope.

Zuhaira grabbed it and ripped it open. Humayd watched is suspense, hoping that it was good news. So when his daughter's creased forehead smoothed out and a shriek erupted from her, he jumped in surprise. "Oh my gosh! Yes! I got it!"

"Got what?" Humayd asked.

"I've been granted the scholarship, the bursary! I was almost worried that they would have overlooked me!" She was so excited that she leaped into her father's arms.

Humayd was gobsmacked. Zuhaira had not hugged him in almost six years. A smile came to his face and he hoped that he could mend his shaky relationship with his daughter.

Later that day, Salma and Humayd brought up the topic of marriage again. Zuhaira brushed it off, not wanting to think about it.

But as she lay her head on her pillow, it came back to her, like an annoying fly buzzing around sugary syrup. Zuhaira groaned and finally allowed her mind to follow through with the thoughts that played on her mind. She did not feel ready for marriage but at the same time, she wanted companionship, a best friend. Most of all, she wanted to move out of her father's house. She was tired of being poor, of being mocked at. Once in a while, she would see a classmate and their teasing would be relentless. And even though she had been caught out, she still faked it when she went out. The only way to leave her parent's poor house was to get married. Her initial plan was to move out of the city completely, closer to a university which was far from her home. But her plans were not the plans her fate had favoured. Instead, she had to stay in her parent's home and attend university. It would not make much of a difference, it would be too much like school. She needed change. She needed to get out of the house she had named a hell hole. She felt trapped in poverty, trapped in a life that she was certain she should have never been a part of, that she should have never been born into. 

But Zuhaira did not realise that rizq (sustenance) comes from Allah. Her mind barely grasped the concept of sustenance. For it is when a child is in the womb of the mother, at four months, that Allah instructs the angels to blow the soul into the fetus, to write down the provision of the soul, the lifespan and whether the child is doomed or blessed in religion.

Allah’s Messenger (PBUH) said, “(The matter of the creation of) a human being is put together in the womb of the mother in forty days, and then he becomes a clot of thick blood for a similar period, and then a piece of flesh for a similar period. Then Allah sends an angel who is ordered to write four things. He is ordered to write down his (i.e. the new creature’s) deeds, his livelihood, his (date of) death, and whether he will be blessed or wretched (in religion). Then the soul is breathed into him...” [Sahih al-Bukhari]

It felt as though it was a mistake for her life to pan out the way it did. It felt as though it was never meant to be. But alas! Allah never makes mistakes. Every single occurrence of life has been preplanned, it has been prewritten. Before the creation of the heavens and the earth, your life and all the twists and turns that it will take had been determined. Before the creation, the Creator penned your fate and all that it encompasses according to His decree.
 

Chapter 11

"Zuhaira?" Humayd cautiously walked into Zuhaira's room.

She looked up from the tattered magazine she had been reading. "Uh huh?" she asked.

"Would you like to speak about..." He cleared his throat and tried again. "About that day?"

"Which day?" she asked, carelessly flipping the pages of the magazine.

"When your friends...?"

Zuhaira jerked in response and sat up. "No!" she quickly blurted. Softening her voice, she said, "But Daddy, there is something else I wanted to talk to you about."

"Ok..." Humayd trailed off, his voice laced with uncertainty.

"I... I've been thinking about marriage... About what you said." Zuhaira paused, wondering how she should continue. After a few minutes, she said, "Maybe I am ready to get married. But on my conditions. He needs to have a decent job, he needs to be able to support me, he needs to accept my career choices and he needs to accept me as I am... Oh, and he needs to be a softie."

Humayd shook his head, confused. The words leaving his daughter's mouth sounded foreign to him. He had not expected her to take him seriously. Clearing his throat, trying not to sound too nervous, he asked, "Do you have someone in mind or...?"

"No. That's why I'm giving you and mummy control over who can come see me." Zuhaira was terrified of being treated the way she had been when she was with Imraan. Apart from that, the only males she knew were the ones who showed off with their father's money. Half of them thought she was a fake and the other half were socially awkward.

Humayd was flabbergasted but he decided not to pursue the subject. Rather, he decided to speak to Salma about their daughter's surprising decision.

After a week, Zuhaira was told that there were three youngsters that were interested in meeting her. She trusted her parents and so she was quite certain that these men would not be as bad as Imraan. In her opinion, no man could ever be as bad as Imraan.

By the time Zuhaira's first meeting was due, she was a nervous wreck. She did not know what to wear, how to act or what to say. She wished that she could talk to her friends about this, but she knew that they would never understand. Their lives were worlds apart and it was so frustrating. 

There was a knock on the door and Zuhaira's heart raced. She caught a slight glimpse of a young man and the look on his face immediately put her off. She slipped on her sandals and made her way to the kitchen as her parents welcomed the family into their tiny home. 

When Salma called her, she carefully balanced the tattered tray filled with mismatched glasses to the lounge which was a few steps away. She looked up shyly and met the disgusted eye of the young man she presumed was the one that had come to see her. She first offered the juice to his parent's and they both graciously accepted. When she offered the young man, he looked at her in disgust and shook his head. Zuhaira's heart sank. She knew that look. It was a look of pity buried between layers of distaste and repulsion - as if they were a filthy family. On the contrary, Salma was a neat freak. She took pride in keeping her tiny home as clean as possible. 

Zuhaira did not even feel like having a chat with the rude man in front of her. He was so different from his parents. While his parents appeared comfortable and happy in their home, he was clearly uncomfortable and he kept looking at the door, his need for escape clearly prevalent.

Although Zuhaira despised their living situation, she hated it when others looked down on her. Deep down, she knew that her father was trying as hard as he could to provide for them. But this painful truth would never surface to the front of Zuhaira’s mind as she was too consumed by the glitz and glamour of this temporary world.

When the time came to talk to the stranger, he looked as if it was the end of the world. He did not bother asking her anything so Zuhaira tried to make conversation with him. After another five minutes of awkward, one-sided conversation, Zuhaira decided to release the young man of his misery and ended the conversation. 

His mother beamed in hope at him as he walked towards her. He shook his head and mouthed, "They're so poor!" Unfortunately for him, everyone noticed it. Humayd cleared his throat in embarrassment and looked away. A few moments of awkward silence passed by. The only sound was coming from the steady tick of the old clock that was perched on the wall.

To everyone’s astonishment, the young man's father got up briskly, walked straight up to his son and slapped him across his face.

"Don't ever say such disrespectful things again. This family invited us over with love and all you do is look around in distaste? My boy, just wait until we get home." 

Zuhaira stared at the scene in shock, unsure of what to do. A nervous sound escaped her lips before she started to laugh uncontrollably. Everyone turned to stare at her, confusion etched in their faces. 

"I... Uh... Sorry." Zuhaira said in between fits of laughter. "That was just..." she could barely finish her sentence without doubling over in laughter. Uncertainly, the boys mother joined in before everyone else - except the young man - was howling in laughter. He looked embarrassed and kept his gaze fixed on his clean shoes.

After they left, Zuhaira looked at her parents, a playful smile playing on her lips. "Well, let's hope the next two meetings are better than this - or at least equally as entertaining."

The second meeting was pretty standard in its initial stages. The young man and his family were friendly and nice. Zuhaira thought that she would get along with the young man. However, he kept taking out a mirror to fix his hair. He was handsome and he seemed to know it. She watched in amusement as he carefully arranged his hair in the mirror for the umpteenth time.

"Okay, I have to ask! What's your obsession with the mirror?" she asked.

He paused and winked at his reflection before turning to her. "Look Zu - it's okay if I call you Zu right? I have to live up to the expectations people have of me. And if that requires me to fix my hair, I'll do it."

Zuhaira tried hard not to snicker. Instead, she excused herself and quickly got a mirror too. She began to mimic his actions. At first it went unnoticed but when he finally noticed her, he gaped. "What are you doing?"

"Well you just taught me that it's important to look good and that's what I'm doing." She smoothed her hair without glancing in his direction and blew a kiss at her reflection.

Irritated, he said, "Will you please put that mirror down? It's distracting."

Zuhaira laughed. "Exactly. That's how I feel when you're looking at yourself and winking every five minutes.”

He stared at her in surprise, his face expressionless before he finally grinned. "I see your point."

The rest of the conversation was short lived as they both realised that they had absolutely nothing in common. She wanted to be a doctor and he wanted to be a model. Zuhaira was not impressed by his antics.

Salma and Humayd were disappointed to find out that the potential couple was not compatible.

"Maybe you should have given him a chance." Salma said softly.

Zuhaira laughed. "Mummy, he thought that I was lucky to have a meeting with him. I don't want someone who thinks that they're a gift to all women."

Salma smiled. "Let's hope that the third time is the charm."
 


Chapter 12

By the time the third meeting was due, Zuhaira felt despondent. She had asked her mother to cancel the meeting on numerous occasions and then she had changed her mind. 

Without making much of an effort to get ready, Zuhaira sullenly waited in the kitchen for the guests to arrive.

The family arrived and she sighed. She felt as though she just needed to get this over with. She was almost certain that it would be another failed meeting.

When she took the tray to meet the family, she gasped. The face of the young man was familiar but she could not figure out where she knew him from. In fact, he was not even someone she should have known as he was so different from her. She was sure that their social circles were worlds apart. Even his name did not sound familiar. Zuhaira was certain that she had never met a Rayyaan before.

It was finally time for the two to talk privately and Zuhaira could no longer control herself. "Have we met before?" she asked carefully, hoping that she did not sound too interested.

Rayyaan nodded. "Yes, we have,” he said as he averted his gaze, embarrassment flashing across his face.

"Where?" Zuhaira asked impatiently.

"Ummm... I don't think you would like to be reminded."

Just as the words left his mouth, recognition dawned upon Zuhaira and she gasped. "You're the guy that saved me..." she whispered. The events that had shaken her to her core flashed through her mind as she recalled Imraan pointing the gun at her before Rayyaan had saved her.

He nodded, still embarrassed.

"Why are you embarrassed? You really saved me that day... I don't think I ever thanked you... Thank you. JazakAllah, may you be rewarded for your kind actions."

"Ameen. I can see the look on your face when you think about that day so we don't have to speak about it."

She stared at the man before her in wonderment. He was clad in a white thobe, looking neat and prim. His beard was trimmed perfectly and he sat up straight. He was not all that handsome but he carried himself well. He casually lifted his long fingers and stroked his beard and Zuhaira found herself drawn to him. There was something so unique about him, so enchanting... She could not figure out why she was so interested in the young man.

He had a decent job and he was the kindest person Zuhaira had ever met. She almost thought that the meeting was just a mere figment of her imagination because she had never experienced such kindness. Apart from that, he was fully supportive on her studying further to become a doctor.

And just as Zuhaira was drawn to him, he was drawn to her. She was not someone he had had in mind when seeking a marriage partner. She was not in hijab, nor did she seem to be the most modest dresser. But Rayyaan was certain that they could build their iman together. Besides, his parents had told him about her because his father knew her father. In fact, both their fathers had been best friends in school. Rayyaan was told the story of Humayd and how he had refused his father’s riches, and he was captivated. Little did he know that Zuhaira was nothing like Humayd when it came to money.

Later that night, Zuhaira thought about Rayyaan. She could not deny that there was something between them. She was attracted to him in the oddest way. His sweet personality intrigued her, she felt as though she needed someone like him in her life. She needed some sort of stability and it seemed like he could give it to her.

However, he was also completing his aalim course. And that meant that he was an aspiring Moulana.  How on earth could she marry someone so pious? She was far from pious - let alone a good girl.

But something in her inched towards accepting him as her husband. After Imraan, Rayyaan seemed perfect.

So when Rayyaan's parents called to say that he was interested in Zuhaira, she was elated - much to the surprise of her parents.

"So..." Humayd began. "Are you interested in him?"

Zuhaira nodded shyly. "Yes, actually I am. Tell him I accept his proposal."

Salma did a double take and Humayd blinked in surprise. Rayyaan was the last person they had expected their daughter to choose. He was not modern, nor was he the most handsome. He was pious and focused on his akhirah.

After Humayd got over his initial shock, he was ecstatic. Maybe Rayyaan was exactly what Zuhaira needed in her life.

And when Rayyaan was told that Zuhaira had accepted his proposal, he too, was surprised. Never in a million years would he have expected Zuhaira to agree to marry him. She was not only out of his league, but they were worlds apart too. And after his istikhara had been deemed positive, he had been certain that she was for him - he just was not certain that she would have felt the same way.

With the wedding preparations underway, Zuhaira felt somewhat excited. Although they were not planning on doing much due to their financial situation, the excitement in the air was electric. Maybe she was just excited to move out of the hell hole she had grown up in. Nevertheless, she decided to relish in the excitement with her family. Even little Zubair could sense the excitement in the air. The only sour grape on Zuhaira's plate was leaving her little brother whom she adored so much.

Her wedding day was slowly approaching and suddenly Zuhaira was uncertain about everything. She no longer knew whether she should get married, she did not know if she and Rayyaan would get along. She did not know whether Rayyaan had a temper or not. She tried to remind herself about the day that he had saved her.

But anxiety took the better of her and she was left gasping for air as she stared at her packed belongings. She grabbed her phone, trying to stop herself from ending the pending marriage. She paused and tried to regulate her breathing but to no avail.

Salma walked in to a hyperventilating Zuhaira. "What's wrong?" she asked worriedly.

"I... don't... know!" Zuhaira responded through gasps of air. "I... don't... know... if... I'm... ready!"

Salma hugged her daughter and soothingly replied, "You will never be ready but it all works out. I promise. When I was to marry your father, I almost ran away. I wasn't ready. I knew I wasn't ready but I went through with it and I've never been happier."

Zuhaira nodded, not completely convinced that her mother had never been happier. "What if I don't want to get married?"

"Well do you or don't you?" Salma asked in a matter-of-fact tone.

Zuhaira paused for a long time, turning the possibilities in her head and playing out the many scenarios she imagined in her overworking brain. "Maybe I should sleep on it?" she suggested more to herself.

Salma nodded. "Very well. But make up your mind soon because it wouldn't be fair to Rayyaan if you change your mind now.”
 
Chapter 13

Zuhaira's unsure thoughts were soon diminished. Her overactive imagination had led her to question her choices but she eventually forgot about it. The excitement resumed and she was more ready than ever to leave her parent's home. 

Before she knew it, the day of her nikaah arrived. She felt somewhat relieved that the day had arrived without a glitch. Their nikaah was small and intimate, with no wedding reception. Zuhaira wore a pretty white and gold dress that her mother had purchased years ago. With a few adjustments made by Salma, the cheap dress looked exquisite.

Zuhaira's long hair fell in luscious curls which framed her pretty face. She looked radiant and her smile was contagious. 

When Rayyaan's eyes fell upon his wife for the first time, he simply stared, unaware of those around him. When his friends pointed out that he was blatantly staring, he shyly looked away. He tried hard to keep himself from blushing but his cheeks had already turned red. Zuhaira giggled, she was used to men staring at her. But the way her husband was staring at her was different. He was not looking at her in the way that made her feel self-conscious or as if she were a piece of meat. Instead, he looked at her with something she had never seen before. She was almost afraid to believe that it was love.

The walima occurred the next day and was simple and enjoyable. The food was delicious, much to Zuhaira’s delight.

When Rayyaan welcomed Zuhaira into their new home, a small two bedroom apartment, she was overjoyed. The apartment was clean and fresh and much bigger than the little house she grew up in. Although it could easily fit into one of her old friends closets, Zuhaira was thrilled. The shower worked well and the hot water actually lasted. 

Although it was anything but luxurious, it was better than the tiny home she grew up in. It was bright and a little more spacious than what she was used to. It was still small but at least it would not feel too cramped because only the two of them would be living there.

Rayyaan took Zuhaira to Durban for their honeymoon. She was overjoyed! It had been the first time she got to see the beautiful beach and feel her toes sink in the soft sands. To her, it felt like paradise on earth. She relished in the beauty of her surroundings and for the first time in her life, she felt completely carefree.

They did not stay in a fancy hotel but Zuhaira did not care. It was the first time that she was actually on holiday and she absolutely loved it.

But Rayyaan was not as happy as his wife was because his heart would ache every time he saw her don a skimpy bikini. The first time Zuhaira noticed the look on his face, she quickly threw on a pair of shorts and a tank top. She was too happy to care how she looked. She did not need to wear a bikini to feel better about herself. 

As their honeymoon progressed, Rayyaan tried his best to keep the smile on his wife’s face. It was easy though - Zuhaira was ecstatic and carefree. 

The only thing that bothered Rayyaan was the way his wife dressed. But he did notice that she made more of an effort to cover up whenever they went out for meals and to the beach.

Within a few weeks, Zuhaira was settled into her new home and ready to start university. Her relationship with her husband was okay - he often wanted to speak about Islam but Zuhaira felt like she did not have the patience for his overly holy ways. She often tried to ignore his requests to pray or would perform a quick prayer so that he would get off her case.

Her relationship with her mother-in-law was surprisingly good. Zuhaira often bit back her tongue when the woman spoke. There were moments where she felt like slapping her mother-in-law but she was raised better than that. And besides, violence was not her game.

She did not bother to complain about her mother-in-law to her husband though. Zuhaira was the type of person who would tell people things to their face instead of muttering unfavourable things behind their back.

But when Rayyaan broke a certain type of news to his wife, she began to reevaluate all of her decisions.

"Habibti, can we talk?" Rayyaan asked, his tone careful.

"Sure." Zuhaira smiled at her husband. He treated her so well.

"I..." he cleared his throat. "Everything happens by the will of Allah - you know that right?"

She frowned. "Is this a lecture?"

"No... I just don't want you to completely freak out." he paused for a minute. "I've lost my job. Alhumdullillah."

"You what?"

"I-"

"I heard what you said! You lost your job! And you still thank Allah!"

"Of course... Maybe my Allah is saving me from something. He only does that which is best for us."

"Yeah, yeah... What are you planning on doing now?"

"The masjid has been asking me to act as an imam in the interim. I think I'll do that."

"Will you get paid? How are we supposed to survive?"

"I will, but it will be minimal. We'll just have to spend carefully and place our reliance in Allah."

Zuhaira blew out a breath of frustration. "Why me?" she muttered to herself.

Rayyaan tried to hug her but she pushed him away, too irritated to deal with his kindness. "It's all Allah's plan for us."

"Well then... I'm just not catching a break. I grew up in poverty and it looks like I'm headed back in that direction. Why is my life complete and utter hell?"

"Zuhaira, we're not poor my love. We have everything we need. We never go to bed hungry, we never have to sleep in the cold or in the rain, we never have to drink dirty water. We have everything we need. In fact, we have too much."

Zuhaira snorted. "Too much? I wear the same clothing every week! I can't even afford university fees! If it hadn't been for the bursary, I wouldn't be able to educate myself!"

Rayyaan sighed, too tired to argue. He simply looked at his wife and with a sad smile and said, "May Allah make it easy for us."

She rolled her eyes and quietly muttered, "I wish I had never married you." She had said it so silently that she was sure her husband did not hear her.

But Rayyaan had heard her and he felt as if the air had been knocked out of him. With tears in his eyes, he whispered, "I promise you that I will always try to keep you happy."

Guilt enveloped Zuhaira. "I'm sorry," she said casually. "I didn't actually mean that. I'm just frustrated." Her apology was not completely sincere, it was more so out of guilt.

She closed her eyes that night, completely ungrateful for all that she had. She was angry that she did not have more, that she could not afford a life of luxury. She could not understand why life was so cruel to her. Her ungrateful soul tossed and turned in her own turmoil that night as she tried hard to forget about her terrible life.

And when Rayyaan closed his eyes that night, his heart bled for his ungrateful wife. He wished that she could see that they had more than many people. They had enough to survive.

But as human’s we sometimes forget to be grateful to Allah. When every breath is a blessing, how can we still complain? When every meal is only by the mercy of Allah, how can we call ourselves poor? When there are people who are literally dying of starvation, how can we say that we are starving?

And such is human nature. We complain even when we have every reason to be grateful. Our hearts are tattooed by the ugly markings of our ungrateful rants.

But the most beautiful of humans are those who are grateful to Allah in all situations.
 
Chapter 14

It was when she was well into university that Rayyaan noticed a difference in his wife. And rightly so - because Zuhaira was changing - and it was not for the better.

When she started university, she befriended the wrong group of friends. Once again, she had been attracted to the glamorous lives of the elite and she had been sucked into their vicious circle of money and greed.

Her new friend, Radia, was studying the same thing she was. They were both aspiring doctors, each one focused on their own goal. 

Unfortunately, Radia was also a party animal. During university hours, she was head strong in her studies but during the night and on weekends, she was a wild party animal, let out of her cage.

Shamima was another girl that Zuhaira had befriended. She too, was studying medicine. However, she could not care less about her academics. Rumour had it that Shamima had been forced into studying medicine and that her father had bribed the university so that his daughter could get a guaranteed spot in the class. Like Radia, she was also a party animal. 

At first, Zuhaira knew that it would not be a good idea to get involved with these girls but eventually, her curiosity got the better of her.

It was when Radia and Shamima were speaking about the crazy weekend they had that Zuhaira felt left out and curious. Interested, she asked, "So where did you guys go?"

"To this hot new club Sham discovered!" Radia said excitedly, her eyes lighting up as she spoke. "They have the coolest drinks with the coolest crowd. It's hard not to love. You should join us sometime. Unless you’re too much of a goody-two-shoes!”

"Umm... I don't think my husband would approve." Zuhaira replied softly.

Shamima guffawed. "Are you serious? It's the twenty-first century honey. You don't need your husband’s permission for anything. You're not his property, you know?"

Zuhaira nodded uncertainly. She was almost sure that Islamically, she needed her husband’s permission. But she ignored that nagging thought. "Maybe I'll join you." she agreed, afraid of feeling like a complete outcast and a loser. 

"Great, we were planning on going tomorrow night but let's go tonight as well. We need to celebrate completing the test we're writing later."

"Don't people normally celebrate after exams and not tests?" Zuhaira asked.

Radia laughed. "Sweetie, we need every reason to celebrate and completing a test calls for a celebration."

Zuhaira smiled nervously. "Well, I can't go in this." she said as she gestured toward the jeans and T-shirt she wore.

"I've got you girl! I stay a minute away. You'll fit into my clothing so you can take your pick honey!" Shamima offered.

"Thanks Sham." Zuhaira said graciously.

Zuhaira felt bad for not telling her husband about her whereabouts so she quickly sent him a message saying that she was going out with friends and that she would be late.

Because Rayyaan trusted his wife to make responsible decisions, he did not question her any further. 

And that was his first mistake.

Zuhaira was highly intoxicated as she made her way home that night. She had promised herself not to touch alcohol but with the pressure of her friends peering eyes and the intense need to fit in, she took a shot. After the first shot, she realised how much she had missed partying and drinking. Three shots later, she was letting loose on the dance floor, grinding up against strange men. 

She grabbed the shot of tequila that Shamima had been holding and gulped it down before grabbing the lemon slice from the table. Zuhaira let out a loud squeal of delight and shook her head, allowing herself to be pulled into the oblivious world of sin.

The nagging feeling in the back of her mind, reminding her that she was married, bothered her for some time but she tried to ignore it and eventually succeeded.

She entered the house in a drunken stupor, hoping that her husband was asleep.

Rayyaan was waiting for his wife in the living room, the Quraan flawlessly pouring out of his mouth. As Zuhaira stumbled into the house and her eyes met his, she froze. And then suddenly, she burst into a fit of giggles, falling over her own feet. 

She was dressed in a tight green dress, her long legs on show. The dress revealed most of her chest, it was completely immodest.

Rayyaan got up to help her and as he did, the pungent scent of alcohol wafted through the air and infiltrated his nose. He froze, stunned by his own senses. He thought he was dreaming and he tried to wake up from the terrible nightmare but nothing changed.

"Zuhaira? Are you okay? Why do you smell of alcohol?"

Zuhaira giggled and pulled off his turban. "I've been partying silly! You should have joined us! You would have had so much of fun."

"Did you... Did you drink alcohol?"

"Well obviously! What's a party without any booze baby?"

A gasp escaped Rayyaan's lips. He was shocked to his core. He had never expected his wife to have fallen in the same trap he often preached about. 

He tried to talk to her, to reason with her but it was of no use. She began to sing at the top of her voice, throwing herself onto her husband.

Rayyaan sighed and helped her into her pyjamas. He tried to talk to her again but it was to no avail. She was too intoxicated to listen to  her husband or to answer anything. He would speak to her in the morning, when she was in her senses. 

As he lay awake that night, too shocked to move, the thoughts of his wife in a club haunted his entire being. He tried to console himself as he thought that his wife could have been forced to join her friend’s.

Maybe she did not consume alcohol voluntarily, maybe she had been held down as alcohol was poured into her mouth. The excuses flowing through his mind did not waver. He hoped with all of his heart that Zuhaira did not make the sinful decisions out of her own free will. He could feel his heart breaking, painfully slowly. 

He watched the steady breathing of his wife. She looked so innocent, as if she was not capable of falling into the sin of alcohol consumption. But when the stench of her booze-laced breath reached his nostrils, he knew that unfortunately, Zuhaira had consumed that which had been declared forbidden fourteen hundred years ago.
 
Chapter 15

The sound of Rayyaan’s alarm woke him up from his restless sleep. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. For a second, the events that had unraveled the night before felt foreign to him. But as his gaze fell upon Zuhaira who was sprawled across the bed, he remembered what had happened. His heart dropped to his stomach.

Slowly, he made his way to the bathroom to perform wudhu. He was expected to be the imam in the masjid for Fajr but he felt worthless. Nonetheless, he got ready and tried to wake up his sleeping wife. She stirred slightly.

"Habibti, please get up for Fajr." His plea fell upon sleeping ears. Every day he would ask Zuhaira to get up for Fajr and almost every day she would promise to get up. He did not know if she actually did get up whilst he was at the masjid. Most nights she would be in the same sleeping position as when he had left.

He tried again and a soft growl came out of her throat. "I'll get up," she mumbled. "Give me five more minutes."

Just as he was about to leave, he tried to wake his wife up again by sprinkling water on her face. "I'm up," she mumbled. "I'll pray when you leave."

Rayyaan made his way to the masjid with a heavy heart. He prayed his tahajjud prayer and fell into prostration, pouring his heart out to his Lord.

And while Rayyaan led the Fajr prayer, his wife lay sleeping in bed, snoring softly. 

Later that morning, Rayyaan prepared a hearty breakfast for Zuhaira. She woke up groggily as it was still early. 

"My head!" she moaned. Her mouth felt parched and rough, and her throat hurt.

Rayyaan gave her a cup of coffee and brought the tray to the bed. "I made you breakfast," he said hopefully.

"Thanks." She grabbed the coffee and gulped it. "Aaah... That feels good," she muttered.

Rayyaan allowed her to enjoy the breakfast. When she was done, he asked, "Can we talk?"

Zuhaira stretched lazily. "If it's about last night, I don't want to hear it. I know it was wrong but we all have our struggles. Just let me be."

"You're right... We do all have our struggles but we can work through them together. And I'm here for you. I can help you. Let's just talk about why you did what you did."

"We don't need to talk about it. I did it to escape this horrid reality. You may not want to face it, but I've faced it already! We're poor! We don't always have good food. We don't always have enough to pay the rent! You think I haven't heard you chat to the landlord? We're struggling and you need to accept it!"

Rayyaan rubbed his forehead. "Alhumdullillah, we're fine. We'll be okay. There was just a month that we struggled. We're fine, don't worry."

"Ugh! No, we're not."

"Can we please talk about last night?" Rayyaan asked.

"Fine! What?" grumbled Zuhaira, too groggy to argue.

"Please don't do that again. The consumption of alcohol is haraam. Apart from that, you were dressed extremely provocatively. What if another man harmed you? Allah saved you."

Zuhaira rolled her eyes. "Blah, blah, blah. Whatever. I need to get ready. I have a class to get to."

Before Rayyaan could respond, Zuhaira sped past him and slammed the bathroom door shut.

Quietly, Rayyaan muttered, “I love you for the sake of Allah.” He closed his eyes and steadied his thoughts.

As she was getting ready, he tried to speak to her but she shut him out. Any question he asked was met with a blank stare. But Rayyaan continued to try and get through to his wife. He knew that eventually, she would see reason.

And for the next month, Zuhaira continued with her antics. Every other night she was out partying, clubbing or drinking. She completely ignored Rayyaan and his constant nagging. She could not understand why he was being such a wet blanket, why he wanted to ruin her fun. For the first time in her life, Zuhaira felt accepted. But she did not realise that it was merely a false sense of acceptance, orchestrated by the devil himself.

The neighbourhood began to notice that the imam’s wife was wild. Rayyaan’s mother began to notice that her daughter-in-law was rude, obnoxious and loud. Zuhaira no longer bothered to visit her mother-in-law, nor did she make an effort when meeting her in public. 

Zuhaira was out for supper with her friends when she bumped into her mother-in-law. But Zuhaira was blatantly rude. To top it all off, she was dressed in a bright silver top that had such a deep neckline, it bared her belly.

Her studies began to take a dip and when she realised this, she briefly stopped partying. Rayyaan was relieved but a mere month later, she had started with her wild ways again.

Zuhaira grabbed her phone and called Radia. "Hey babe, what's the plans for tonight?"

Radia giggled. "Girl, I had no idea that you were such a party animal when I met you! Let's head to Point 2.0." she suggested, referring to their latest obsession.

She quickly got ready by throwing on a tight black mini dress and a pair of lace-up boots. Rayyaan was not home yet and she wanted to get out before he got home and tried to lecture her again. He always tried to tell her what was right and what was wrong but frankly, she could not care less.

Just as she threw open the door, she bumped straight into her husband. He took one look at her, the disappointment prevalent in his eyes. But Zuhaira did not have time to tend to the hurt she had caused him. The slight nagging feeling that always haunted her when she would go out was blatantly ignored and buried deep in her mind.

"Zuhaira?" Rayyaan called, his voice full of emotion.

"Laters!" Zuhaira kissed her finger and placed it on her husband's cheek before racing out the door. 

"Wait!" But she was already gone. Rayyaan sighed in frustration. He was trying with her, he really was.

He closed his eyes and said the beautiful words that brought him comfort, “I love you for the sake of Allah, Zuhaira.” She was long gone but he kept reminding himself that he loved her for Allah’s pleasure and His pleasure only.

Just then, his phone rang. It was his mother and she was full of complaints about Zuhaira. But how could Rayyaan truly defend her when everything his mother said was true?

The community at large knew about his wife's ordeals. Often, he would hear the whispers that came his way.

After he got off the phone with his mother, he went straight to his prayer mat and spoke to his Lord.

And while Rayyaan was having a conversation with Allah, Zuhaira was having a flirty conversation with another man in the back of a limo. The flames of her conversation was fuelled by shaytaan but Zuhaira could not be bothered.

Rayyaan was madly in love with his wife, he was almost consumed by his feelings for her. But his love was not just a worldly love. It was a love for the pleasure of Allah, a love that surpasses any and all types of love. And that is why he made it his mission to keep on persevering. He knew that his prayers would never fall on deaf ears when Allah was listening.
 
Chapter 16

Zuhaira had no idea who the three men in the limo were. All she knew was that they were Radia's friends. And why should she question it? Radia always organised a fun-filled night - from the limo to the drinks to the entertainment. Zuhaira knew that had it not been for her rich friends, she would have never had the opportunity to sit in such a posh limo.

To her, it was all worth it. But alas! Is the entertainment of this world truly worth it when Jannah is on the line? Zuhairah did not think about the hereafter though, all she cared about was living in the moment. Deep down in her foolish heart, she knew that she was getting deeper into a web of sin that she had spun. She knew that she had never been this wild in school and she knew that she kept on going a step further.

The young man next to her kissed her neck and Zuhaira scooted away. She still did not trust men, except for her husband. And even though she often ignored him, he was the only man that she truly trusted. Unless she initiated close contact - which she rarely ever did - she did not appreciate strange men getting too close to her.

"What's wrong?" he drawled, his warm breath smelling sour from the alcohol he had consumed.

Zuhaira giggled. "Let's play a shot game!" she suggested. Her quick thinking paired with enough alcohol intake easily distracted the men that she so often rejected. 

Hearing this, Shamima jumped up. "I have something better!" she slurred. She pulled out a tiny packet filled with white pills.

Zuhaira's eyes grew wide just as Radia threw up. 

Radia looked up at Shamima and grimaced. "I told you I'm done with that. Don't even bother giving it to Zu. If you do, I swear to God that I will hurt you." 

Zuhaira was confused. Although Radia was a party animal, she had sworn off drugs. Apparently she had been an avid drug user and when she had introduced it to her little brother and his body could not handle it, he had ended up in a vegetable state. Currently, he was barely responsive and the guilt of what had happened to him had led to Radia staying as far away from drugs as possible.

Shamima shrank back in her seat and tossed the packet towards Radia. Radia crushed the tiny pills with her heel before dissolving it in a drink and pouring the contents onto the floor. The carpet soaked up the concoction and Radia breathed a sigh of relief.

"Never take drugs or your brother will die!" Radia hissed after downing three shooters.

The mere thought of little Zubair sprawled on the floor, completely unconscious, had Zuhaira shaking to her core. To calm her nerves, she grabbed a bottle and took a large sip.

By the time they had reached the club, Zuhaira was the least wasted. Shamima, as well as the three guys, were practically passed out. But Zuhaira was adamant on having fun. She made her way to the entrance of the club with Radia at her heel.

The music was loud and pumping. Zuhaira could feel the thunder of the music in her veins. She allowed the first three guys to offer her drinks and a dance. Once again she danced into the wee hours of the morning, forgetting who she was and forgetting the sin she was indulged in.

Somehow, she made it back to her apartment. The sun was starting to rise as she entered her quiet home. Rayyaan was no where in sight.

Without even bothering to remove her shoes, she fell face first onto the couch. She was knocked out in less than a minute. 

When Rayyaan got back from Fajr salaah, he carefully helped his wife into bed. And as he robotically completed each task, the shrapnel's of his heart dropped to his stomach. 

He continued to pray for her, every minute of every day. Zuhaira completely consumed his mind at times and he would shake with pain.

Zuhaira could see what her actions were doing to her husband but she was angry. She was angry because she was poor, she was angry because she could not live the life her friends lived, she was angry that her husband did not get a better job. She was angry at the world and in some way, she was angry with herself for being angry with the world.

The next weekend, much to Rayyaan's relief, Zuhaira had to study for an important exam. Instead of going out, she lounged around in sweats and spent her day studying. Rayyaan bought a pizza for her and took it to her while she studied. After what felt like years, he finally received a heartfelt smile from his wife. 

Zuhaira did not want to think about her husband's kindness because the guilt that coupled it would consume her completely. And right now she could not afford the distraction. She knew that she was a poor excuse of a wife, she knew that Rayyaan deserved better but these thoughts were pushed so far back in her mind that they were almost non existent.

The next two weekends went by in a similar manner. Zuhaira was buried in her books. Rayyaan was grateful for the exam season because his wife was so much more pleasant. She had not partied in three weeks and he could not be happier. The atmosphere in the house was better than usual and Zuhaira's smiles were less forced. 

But of course, this happiness was short lived. The moment Zuhaira's last exam was over, she was already planning on going out. Rayyaan's heart sank when he heard her on the phone.

"Rads! What's the plan for tonight? We smashed those papers! I know we did great so now it’s time to celebrate!" Zuhaira walked out of the room so that Rayyaan would not hear her conversation.

"What do you want? Men, booze and clubs?" Radia asked.

"Let's go with just fun partying at a club or something? Nothing fancy. Besides, those guys that came with us last time were pretty boring."

Radia agreed. "Will you call Sham or should I?"

"You can call her. I need to start getting ready."

"See you later sweetie!" 

Just as Zuhaira hung up, she saw her husband standing at the doorway. "Why don't we go out instead? We can have a quiet picnic and some alone time?"

Zuhaira rolled her eyes. "No, thank you. I already made plans. Don't ruin them. And for God's sake, can you please stop looking at me with those puppy dog eyes?"

Rayyaan sighed, his heart sinking. "I'll be back. It's Asr time."

The pain that Rayyaan felt was unimaginable. Many people wondered why he was still married to the woman who caused him pain. Rayyaan did not have an answer though. All he knew was that he loved his wife and he wanted to be the reason for her happiness. He could not leave her, he did not have the heart to divorce her. And besides, he was terrified that if he divorced her, she would drown in a world he so greatly despised - a world full of sin for temporary enjoyment.
 
Chapter 17

“Zuhaira?" Rayyaan called out sadly.

Zuhaira ignored Rayyaan and coated her lashes in mascara one more time.

"Zuhaira?" he said again, hoping that she would glance in his direction.

Again, she ignored him. She stared at her reflection in the broken mirror and smiled in satisfaction. She looked hot with the short top that bared her midriff and the tiny skirt that barely left anything to the imagination. Her six inch heels hugged her feet and the straps were neatly wrapped around her calves.

"Zuhaira?" Rayyaan called out again, his voice laced with pain.

"What?" Zuhaira asked icily. "What the hell do you want from me?" she said in irritation. She was sure that they had already had this conversation before he went to pray his Asr salaah. She did not know why he was nagging her again.

"Where are you going tonight?" he asked, knowing full well what her end-of-exams plans were. But he had hoped that in the time he had gone to pray that she had changed her mind.

"To party. Not that it is any of your concern!" 

"Don't go. Please!" he pleaded softly.

"And spend the night listening to your holier than thou lectures? I don't think so."

"Zuhaira, I am your husband. Please don't do this." He had never used that line before but he was on the verge of desperation. The last few weeks while she had been studying had been so wonderful, he did not want her to go back to partying.

She turned on her heel and looked him dead in the eye. "Unfortunately you are. And the only reason I married you was so that I could get out of my parent's poor home. I thought that marrying you will relieve me of poverty, but boy! Was I wrong! You could have at least told me that you were on the brink of losing your job. I would have never married you!" Her hurtful words pierced his soul and he looked away with tears in his eyes. Zuhaira knew that the words she was using was a poisonous sting but she was beginning to lose her patience with him. She just wanted to get out of the house as quick as possible. She had been good for three weeks, her husband should have appreciated it and yet, here he was, nagging her again.

"I care about you," he said ignoring her sharp words. "And you will get a sin for every lustful gaze that is cast upon you. I want us to enter Jannah together."

"Whatever. Go and give your lectures in the mosque. I'm not interested in listening to you drone on and on about what a bad person I am." She rolled her eyes, too annoyed to even look in his direction.

"I don't think you're a bad person habibti."

"Sure you don't. Anyway, I'm not wasting another second by having this futile conversation with you. Don't wait up." Zuhaira knew that he would wait up for her, he always did. That same nagging feeling of guilt whizzed through her mind before she disregarded it.

The tears fell from Rayyaan's eyes and he tried to hide them. The rumours that he had so often heard about his wife were horrible - but unfortunately most of them were true. The pointing and the laughing only ceased when he was within earshot. He tried so hard to steer his wife away from the life she seemed to love so much. If only she would listen...

But Rayyaan had hope, he always had hope. He knew that Allah was listening to his duas. He knew that Allah would answer them and he knew that Allah would never forsake his heart. After all, the Creator of the heart will never forsake his art.

He knew that the mercy of Allah was vast and unmatchable. And what is life without hope in Allah's mercy?

He thought about his mother, Fatima, again.

"Just divorce that girl! So shameless she is! She doesn't love you!" his mother argued.

"No ma. I can be the reason she changes her life around and I want to do it. I love her."

How can you love her when she doesn't love you back? She doesn't even care about you. That girl is a no good, I tell you!"

"Because the day I made nikah with her, Allah filled my heart with love for her. She has some good qualities too."

"Like what? That girl doesn't even cook for you!"

"She doesn't speak about anyone."

"I don't know why you so stubborn! Look at your brother, he married such a haari poiri and he is so happy. You married this girl and you are never happy. Do you hear what the people say?" his mother asked in annoyance.

"I know ma. I know that people speak about her and wonder why I am with her. But it is no ones business. We will both enter Jannah together, In Sha Allah."

Fatima was not a fan of the girl after she had shown her true colours.

Rayyaan shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts. He would not be able to rest until his wife was home.

He paced the little flat and continuously ran his fingers through his hair. He would spend the next few hours in complete worry. He began to recite the quraan from his memory as he continued to walk around the apartment. He was anxious and afraid for the woman he loved. But she did not seem to realise how deep his love for her went.

It felt like forever before Rayyaan heard the click of the door. He watched as a drunk Zuhaira clumsily walked into the house, her skirt looking even shorter than before. She was oblivious to the dreaded look on her husband's face. It was not something new. Yet, every time it happened, Rayyaan could not help the feeling of dread that would pulse through him. These were the moments that he would contemplate divorce. But the very word shook him to his core. He was madly in love with his wife and even if it killed him, he would try to bring her closer to Allah.

Once again, Rayyaan helped her change and get into bed. While she slept soundlessly, he slept restlessly. It seemed as if this was the never ending cycle of his life. As if it were a movie that was stuck in its tragic scene. And all Rayyaan wanted was for the movie to end and for his life to be filled with ease.

Maybe this was a test. He knew that he needed to be tested. After all, the quraan clearly states, "Do people think that they will be left alone because they say: “We believe,” and will not be tested?”
 
Chapter 18

Zuhaira was on holiday and she was not completely happy about it. She did not feel like being home because her husband kept trying to talk to her. However, in the last few days he had been unusually quiet.

Radia and Shamima had decided to go on a vacation. Since Zuhaira could not afford it, she moped around the house most of the time. She thought of visiting her parents because she missed her little brother so much and she had not made the effort to see them in ages. But at the same time, she was not really in the mood to see her parents.

She logged onto her social media accounts and her heart dropped as she saw her two friends smiling in Italy. She burned with immense jealousy and she hated her life. She was stuck in her crappy home with her holy husband and she had no interesting plans. She honestly wished that her friends had not decided to go on a fabulous holiday and leave her in her horrible life.

She could hear Rayyaan softly speaking to himself. When she noticed that it was a Thursday, she was pretty sure that her husband was preparing for the Friday lecture. She rolled her eyes in irritation and as she was about to close the door of the room he was sitting in when the words that left his mouth made her freeze.

"We are all sinners, we sin in our own way. Whether you're partying every night or gossiping about your best friend - it is a sin and it is our own personal struggle. The quraan states, 'Say: My servants, you who have transgressed against yourselves, do not despair of the mercy of Allah. Truly Allah forgives all wrong actions. He is the Ever-Forgiving, the Most Merciful.' How beautiful is that? How beautiful is it that Allah is reminding us to have hope in His mercy? According to the hadith narrated by Anas ibn Malik: The Messenger of Allah, peace and blessings be upon him, said, 'All of the children of Adam are sinners, and the best of sinners are those who repent.'"

Zuhaira paused. There was an unseen tug of her heartstrings. Her husband stopped and she quickly hid behind the wall. He was speaking to himself, rearranging his words. He recited the ayah again, first in Arabic and then in English. Zuhaira felt her legs give way and she sank to the floor. Something was happening in her heart and she could not quite place her finger on it.
How had she never heard her husband say these words to her before? She knew that he had mentioned it but she had never truly listened. Her closed, hopeless heart felt as if it was finally opening. The heart that had been drowning in darkness was finally allowing the light of beauty to enter it.

Her usually dry eyes started to water. Zuhaira brushed away her tears and tried to silence the sobs that were surfacing. 

Rayyaan continued beautifully, "It is recorded in Bukhari and in Muslim that Allah created mercy in one hundred parts and sent down to earth only one part. Because of this one part, there is mutual love amongst creation, so much so that an animal will lift up its hoof from its young one, fearing that it might harm it. Allah has reserved the remaining ninety-nine parts of this mercy to favour His believing servants on the Day of Judgment. THIS is the mercy of our Lord. My dear brothers and sisters, how do we allow our hearts to falter when the Creator of our hearts has promised mercy? Even the worst of sinners have hope. Allah's mercy is vast and as long as you believe in Him and His beloved Nabi (SAW), there is hope." He paused again, muttering something incoherent under his breath. 

Zuhaira strained her ears, wanting to hear more, wanting to listen to the beautiful words pouring out of her husband's mouth but he was silent. She peeped around the corner and saw him wiping tears from his eyes. Her heart broke for him. She got up and made her way to the room. Slowly, she started to remove the nail polish that stained her nails. Once she was done, she made her way to the bathroom to perform a ghusl. Just before she got out, Rayyaan knocked on the door to tell her that he was on his way to the masjid.

She exited the bathroom and donned an abaya and hijab. She raised her hands and began her prayer, allowing the contentment to wash over her. And when she completed her salah, she fell into sujood, pouring her heart out to her Lord, begging and crying for forgiveness. She knew that she would not be able to change overnight but she made a firm intention on trying to better herself.
Just as she got up, she heard Rayyaan walk through the door. She quickly removed the hijab and abaya and folded away the prayer mat. For some reason she did not want her husband to see what had happened, she did not want to explain anything to him - not yet anyway.

When Rayyaan went to the masjid the next day for Jummah, Zuhaira decided to record his lecture through the receiver that Rayyaan had connected. She could hear the way her husband spoke, with such earnest intensity which stemmed from his heart. While the lecture continued to record, she got ready for her salah. She wanted to listen to the lecture in totality at a later stage.

As the days passed, Rayyaan noticed that his wife was so much more pleasant. She smiled often and even attempted to prepare meals for him once or twice. At first, the changes were unnoticeable. She went out less frequently, and she more often than not, woke up for Fajr.

But when Radia and Shamima got back from their holiday and invited Zuhaira to party, she initially declined. After the third time they asked, she grudgingly accepted, unsure as to why she was even going.

Zuhaira approached Rayyaan and said, "Um, I'm going out tonight okay? I don't plan on staying out too late. Just want to catch up with Radia and Sham."

Rayyaan felt his heart sink. He really did not want her to go out again and get sucked back into the treacherous world of sin.

“Do you have to go?” He asked.

“I just want to catch up with my friends.”

Before Rayyaan could respond, she made her to to the room.

His mind wandered. Shortly after he had gotten married, he had brought a hijab to Zuhaira and he had told her to wear it. He was gentle, but slightly firm. When Zuhaira had laughed in his face and then purposely refused to don the hijab, even on the Friday she usually would, Rayyaan realised that Zuhaira was the type of person who rebelled when pushed. He knew that he could not force her. When Rayyaan realised that his wife would just rebel when she was directed to good, he backed off. He did not want to lose her to the devil. He wanted to bring her closer to her Lord.

Zuhaira rummaged through her closet. She picked a pair of jeans and a purple long-sleeved button-down top. It was modest compared to her other party clothing. Her heart felt uneasy, she did not really want to go - something just did not feel right. But the whispers of Shaytaan was overpowering and she succumbed to his evil ideas.

But when she met up with both her friends at the extra-loud club, all she wanted to do was run out screaming. The music blared through the speakers, crushing her heart with shrapnels of sickening sin. Radia handed her a shot and she gingerly accepted it. And as she raised it towards her lips, something happened. Her heartbeat quickened, beckoning uncertainty and the soft voice that she had buried in the back of her mind surfaced, urging her not to indulge in the harmful sin.

She could smell the liquor infused room and the drunken breaths of the tipsy dancers. The heat radiating throughout the room burned her with discomfort. She placed the shot on the table, unable to consume it.

Radia looked at her in concern. "Why aren't you taking it?" She asked over the loud music.

"I don't think I want to." Zuhaira replied in confusion.

Shamima laughed. "Oh, you poor thing. What destroyed you while we were away?" She asked, her words completely slurred.

Zuhaira smiled. "This is just not for me. Not anymore. I need to go." She turned on her heel and made her way to the exit. When she was safely outside, she called Rayyaan.

"What's wrong?" He asked worriedly.

"Nothing, please pick me up. I don't want to be here."

"Did anyone hurt you?" He asked, his voice thick with concern.

"No, I'm perfectly fine. I just want to come home." She quickly gave him the address and waited outside. Never in her life had she felt this way. She was uncertain, confused and somewhat content. The fear of missing out did not haunt her the way it used to. The enticing aroma of the colourful club entrance did not appeal to her. In fact, it made her feel almost repulsed.

And just as the clean air started to clear her thoughts, Zuhaira met the eyes of someone she had wished to forget. 
 
Chapter 19

Imraan stood in front of her, completely wasted, his eyes wickedly raking over her body. Zuhaira shrunk into her shadow as fear washed over her but Imraan gained upon her. Desperately, she scanned her surroundings. The air was still, too still and the remnants of the music from the club softly swayed in her direction. 

Imraan smiled. "Well, well, well... What do we have here?"

Zuhaira ignored him and turned on her heel, trying hard to pretend that he was not there.

But the insistence in his voice was all too powering. He roughly grabbed her by the shoulder. "Don't you dare run away from me,” he said after he cursed loudly.

"Please leave me alone." Zuhaira pleaded.

But Imraan was not listening to her. "Remember how you humiliated me all those years ago?" he slurred, his hot breath smelling of stale alcohol.

Zuhaira faced him squarely. "And I would do it again. Leave me alone,” she grumbled, anger beginning to bubble inside of her.

"No. Today, I plan on humiliating you." His threatening words froze her, paralyzing her with fear. She tried to calm herself by breathing deeply.

She raised her chin in defiance and laughed sarcastically. "Do you think I'm afraid of you?" She asked.

Imraan laughed psychotically, the eerie sound reverberating throughout the silent parking lot. "No, you're not,” he said casually.

She breathed a sigh of relief and as she did so, he raised a gun towards her. 

"But you are afraid of this,” he muttered.

She took a sharp intake of breath. "What are you doing?" She asked.

"First, I'm going to hurt you and then..." He viciously licked his lips. "And then I'm going to have some fun with you."

Zuhaira could feel her pounding heart getting louder, like thunderbolts flowing through her mind. Her palms became sweaty with the fear that pulsed through her veins. Somewhere in her mind, something reminded her to only fear Allah, for how can a mere mortal inflict pain on another except by the will of Allah?

"Do what you want." Zuhaira said with a tone of confidence that even surprised her. "If Allah wants to protect me, then who are you?"

Imraan laughed sarcastically. "Now you're preaching? You were just inside the club with a shot in your hand and now you're standing out here hoping for Allah's protection? Stop being a hypocrite man!"

Zuhaira smiled. "What you see isn't always what happens you know? There's a story behind everything."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh shut-up woman! You're just trying to stall me." He raised the gun again in the air and traced the outline of her body with it. "Where should I shoot? I don't want to kill you, I want you to live with the humiliation I lived through."

As he continued to outline her body with the tip of the gun from afar, a loud commotion caused Imraan to panic and he accidentally pulled the trigger.

Pain shot through Zuhaira's arm and she gasped before crumpling to the floor. She saw Imraan crouch and then she heard his voice whisper something in her ear. "Well that was a close call. I thought someone found us." 

His wicked smile scared her to her core. She was too weak to protest. And just as her eyes began to shut, she heard the calming voice of her husband. But she could have been dreaming because darkness enveloped her entire being.

Rayyaan had arrived just in time. He found someone looming over his wife's body. With quick, accurate movements, he disarmed the lanky man. That's when he noticed that it was the same man that had held a gun to Zuhaira years ago.

Rayyaan pinned Imraan down, mere steps away from his wife.

As he looked down, he noticed the pool of blood growing larger around his wife's chest. He was livid. He started to recite the kalima and called out her name. He grabbed his phone and called the ambulance. 

Imraan was wrestling like a temper-tantrum-throwing toddler and Rayyaan was too shocked to keep him pinned down. He managed to escape but a group of young men that appeared out of nowhere grabbed him before he could escape. 

Zuhaira opened her eyes briefly and Rayyaan loudly glorified Allah. He was thankful that she was alive. But as the seconds ticked by, her heartbeat became weaker. The pool of blood had tripled in size and Zuhaira's eyes closed.

Her shirt was soaked with blood, making it hard to see the original colour. The group of men that had caught Imraan had began to punch him ruthlessly and only ceased after Rayyaan had begged them to stop.

The tears cascaded down his cheeks and sunk into Zuhaira's top. Her lips moved ever so slightly and Rayyaan brought his ear towards her lips but to no avail. He could not hear what she was saying.

Zuhaira was the love of his life and from the moment their nikah had bounded them together, he had fallen madly in love with her. The good qualities she had were impressive. The way she found it hard to gossip and backbite about others was admirable. She was beautiful in a unique way. Rayyaan honestly believed that had she not fallen into the ocean of sin, she would be the perfect woman. But he did not lose hope. He constantly prayed for her. After all, he loved her so intensely, so incredibly... She was everything to him. And in the last few weeks, they had gained a closeness that they had both unknowingly yearned for. He had noticed that she began to wake up for the Fajr prayers, how she preferred staying at home, how she tried to cook for him... He noticed the effort she began to make. To lose her now would be a stab in the heart. Rayyaan knew that whatever Allah willed would happen. But he also knew that Allah would accept all of his prayers because every word said with tears in his eyes and pain in his heart while his forehead touched the ground would be heard.

Before insanity overtook him, the ambulance arrived. In a flurry of activity, they loaded Zuhaira into the vehicle, shouting commands at each other. He stepped back, allowing them to examine her. Her body was limp, as if it had been drained of any form of energy. 

All Rayyaan could do was hold his wife's hand and beg Allah to keep her safe. He needed her to be safe. He did not want anything to happen to her, especially because he was terrified of what she had indulged in earlier in the evening and if death had decided to pay her a visit, he feared for her and he feared for himself. Because if her time was up and if she had indulged in despicable sin before her final breaths, he believed that he would have failed her. But at the same time, he made excuses for her, telling himself that she did not consume the drink of the devil, nor had she engaged in the activities shaytaan most enjoyed.
 
Chapter 20

Rayyaan, along with his parents and in-laws, impatiently waited for news on their beloved.

His mother, Fatima, had tears in her eyes. Although she did not get along with her daughter-in-law, she had a soft spot for her because of the love her son had for the girl. She knew that Rayyaan always looked for the best in people.

Zuhaira's parents were completely shattered. They had not seen her in months and often would call Rayyaan, begging him to bring her over. Rayyaan had tried to on numerous occasions but Zuhaira had always blatantly refused. Since Salma and Humayd knew their daughter well enough to understand the depths of her stubbornness, they did not blame their son-in-law for a second. They loved him, he was an impressionable young man.

How beautiful is it that when Allah loves you, the entire world loves you too? And even though we all have faults and are far from flawless, it is only with Allah's mercy that we appear better than we seem. After all, Allah is Al-Wadood - the Loving One, Al Waliyy - the Protecting Associate. And it is only because of His love and mercy that our flawed souls are cloaked and others believe that we are better than we really are.

Salma had tears running down her face as she held onto little Zubair's hand. Zubair was confused, he did not know why everyone around him was crying. Humayd looked as if his gut had been wrenched out with a plier. The pain on his face was enough to have strangers in tears.

Rayaan paced the length of the waiting room, begging and pleading with Allah to keep his wife safe.

The tired looking doctor walked towards them and everyone froze.

"She's stable,” he said to Rayyaan. Rayyaan was so overcome by gratefulness that he fell to the floor in sujood. When he got back up, the doctor pulled him aside.

"Did you know that your wife is pregnant?" He asked.

Rayyaan gaped at the doctor. "What?"

"She's two weeks pregnant. The baby seems fine but we will have to do tests at a later stage to ensure that her blood loss did not affect the baby."

Rayyaan nodded wordlessly, too stunned to move.

"Would you like to see her?" The doctor asked.

Rayyaan nodded again, still shocked. The doctor led him to the busy room filled with patients who were separated by curtains. 

Zuhaira's eyes were closed and she looked pale. 

Rayyaan sat beside her and grasped her hand, praying for her. He then placed his hand over her stomach and begged Allah to keep their unborn child safe. After what felt like hours, Zuhaira's eyes fluttered open. She smiled when she saw Rayyaan sitting next to her, his hands cupped in prayer. She reached for his hand and he quickly took it, exclaiming 'Alhumdullillah!' 

After ensuring that she was okay, he asked, "Did the doctor tell you anything?"

Zuhaira nodded. "Apparently I'm pregnant."

"Did you know?" 

"I had no idea... And before you start doubting me, relax. I've never been intimate with another man, despite my wild ways." She smiled ruefully.

"I would never doubt you habibti. It's a grave sin to accuse."

"I know. But I wouldn't blame you if you did."

Rayyaan nodded thoughtfully. "So why did you insist on coming home last night? That's never happened before."

"I don't know. I just didn't want to be there... I didn't even drink last night."

Rayyaan smiled, his heart jumping for joy.

Later that week, Zuhaira had recovered and she was out of hospital. As she regained her strength, she began to replay the events of the night that had landed her in hospital. What if she had decided to get intoxicated? What if she had danced the night away with strange men? What if she had died? For the first time in her life, the fear of what happens after death shook her to her core. She was far from ready for death. She was far from her iman, she needed to reconnect with her Creator and focus less on this temporary world. 

But Zuhaira felt weak, she felt as if she was not good enough, as if her past sins had already predetermined her future in the next world. 

And that is exactly what the devil plants in the mind. He singlehandedly makes us doubt our own abilities to improve and to work towards an eternity of bliss - Jannah. Instead, he plants these unwanted seeds in our heads, forming a garden. He waters his garden of fiery thorns and thoughts and takes such good care of it until it grows into a fully bloomed forest, eating over the thoughts of hope we have and overtaking the mind completely, making us believe that we are worthless and that heaven will never be ours. And so, with this horrid belief, we begin to act in the way that the devil has so carefully orchestrated, we begin to think that Jannah is far from reach and we do not even bother working for it.

But the devil is a liar. Since the beginning of human creation, the devil has been at work, he lied to Adam (AS) and Hawa (AS). His lies led the first humans to consume from the forbidden tree, damning them to this world, damning all of mankind to this world. So why do we allow this evil being that we know is a liar to plant and tend to his evil forest of fatal fallacy in our minds?

So Zuhaira's already corrupted mind began to believe that she was not worthy of Allah's mercy. 

As humans, we may not think that we are worthy of Allah's mercy but have we forgotten that he is Ar-Rahmaan, The Most Merciful? After all, the hadith states, "Allah created mercy in one hundred parts and sent down to earth only one part. Because of this one part, there is mutual love amongst creation, so much so that an animal will lift up its hoof from its young one, fearing that it might harm it. Allah has reserved the remaining ninety-nine parts of this mercy to favour His believing servants on the Day of Judgment [Bukhari and Muslim]. This hadith highlights hope in Allah's mercy. 

So as Zuhaira began to fall into a whirlpool of dark depression, she tried to pull herself out. But the forest that shaytaan had planted in her mind evaded any clear thoughts. She began to feel worthless and too sinful to continue to try.

She felt as if her heart was completely and utterly hopeless, she felt as though her soul had sunken far too deep in to the pit of sins, so deep that the light of mercy could not reach it. But alas! Allah's mercy is vast, our minds will never be able to fathom it.
 
Chapter 21

As Zuhaira continued to sink into depression, her heart felt as if it was breaking, each piece bruised by her negative thoughts. She felt as if her soul needed a connection that had been severed years ago, but at the same time she felt an intense shame to turn to her Lord with the weight of the sins she carried.

She felt this weight pushing down on her, crushing her hope and mental wellbeing. The heaviness settled like a dark cloud on her broken heart, a heart that she had broken by herself. A heart not broken by any human, but a heart broken by the devil due to the scenarios that he had planted, and these scenarios had such an impact on her. It broke her - completely and utterly, in sheer shrapnels of a false belief.

Rayyaan noticed that his wife had suddenly become quiet and subdued. He could see that something was bothering her but every time he tried to approach the subject, she would close up, shielding herself from heartbreak. 

And when she had reached the pit of the darkness that imprisoned her, something amazing happened. She was scrolling through her phone, trying to make more space when she came across the recording of her husband giving a lecture. She had completely forgotten about it, she had forgotten the beautiful words that only Allah can inspire in humans.

She pressed play and allowed the words of comfort to ease her troubled soul.

"What is hope? A saying goes something along the lines of hope is when you take the first step, even though you cannot see the end of the staircase.  A dictionary meaning of hope is a desire accompanied by expectation of, or belief in fulfillment. As muslims, it is imperative to have hope in Allah's mercy. But at the same time we need to fear Allah. Because if we don't fear our Lord, we will not keep our actions in check."

As these words caressed Zuhaira's mind, she felt a slight ease. She continued to listen.

"So the two elements we will discuss are hope and mercy. However, we should note that there are three important elements to consider: Fear, hope, and mercy. These three elements go hand in hand and a balance between hope and fear needs to occur in the heart of every mu'min.
As I mentioned earlier, hope is an expectation - In Islam, it is an expectation we have in Allah, in His promise.  Our Nabi (SAW) said that Allah said, “I am as my slave expects Me to be.” Allah will grant us according to our expectation of Him. 
Allah says in the Holy Qur’aan “Say: My servants, you who have transgressed against yourselves, do not despair of the mercy of Allah. Truly Allah forgives all wrong actions. He is the Ever-Forgiving, the Most Merciful.”
Now just think about this ayah, think about what is being said... Allah says that even if you have transgressed -  and let's think about this - we all transgress. We all have our sins. Some sins encompass drugs, some sins encompass backbiting, some sins encompass murder, some sins encompass hate, some sins encompass partying and drinking... Our sins are vast. We are only human. And as humans, we tend to err.  Every single one of us here has committed a sin. Can anyone tell me that they didn't? No. Because it is not possible. The only man free of sin was our beloved Nabi (SAW). So even if we have committed sins, we should not despair, we should not fall into a depression because shaytaan fuels this sort of depression. The depression created out of hopelessness as a Muslim is the doing of shaytaan. Do not despair in the mercy of Allah. Allah is so merciful my dear brothers and sisters. His mercy cannot be fathomed by our minds, we can't possibly understand the depths of Allah's mercy."

The tears poured down Zuhaira's cheeks, it felt as if her husband had said this exactly for her to hear. She continued to listen to the words that left her husband's mouth weeks ago.

"It is narrated in Bukhari and Muslim, “Allah created mercy in one hundred parts and sent down to earth only one part. Because of this one part, there is mutual love amongst creation, so much so that an animal will lift up its hoof from its young one, fearing that it might harm it. Allah has reserved the remaining ninety-nine parts of this mercy to favour His believing servants on the Day of Judgment.”
Imagine that... Only one part of mercy was sent down to this world. The mercy a mother has towards a child, the mercy an animal will have towards its young, the mercy a judge has towards a defendant, the mercy you and I have towards one another, the mercy a husband has towards his wife - every type of mercy imaginable falls in this one part of mercy, in this dunya. 
And Allah has reserved ninety nine parts of the mercy that He created for His servants, for His believing servants, on the Day of Reckoning. Can you imagine these ninety nine types of mercy when sometimes, the mercy of this world can leave us speechless. So have hope in Allah's mercy, have hope that He will forgive all your sins - as long as you do not ascribe partners to Him - He will forgive.
There is another Hadith where Abu Hurairah reported Allah's Messenger (SAW) having said:
“By Him in Whose Hand is my life, if you were not to commit sin, Allah would sweep you out of existence and He would replace (you by) those people who would commit sin and seek forgiveness from Allah, and He would have pardoned them.”
Do not allow Shaytaan to stray your mind from Allah's mercy. Never think that your sins are too many because Allah's mercy is greater than you can imagine. Sometimes, shaytaan sends these whispers to us, telling us that we are unworthy of Allah's love and mercy. 
In Tirmidhi, it is stated that Muhammad (SAW) said, "When Allah drowned Fir'awn, he (Fir'awn) said: I believe that there is no god except the One that the Bani Isra'eel believe in. So Jibreel said: Oh Muhammad! If you could only have seen me, while I was taking (the mud) from the sea, and filling his mouth out of fear that the mercy would reach him."
Allah’s mercy is so astounding that Jibreel (AS) was afraid that Allah’s mercy would fall upon one of the greatest terrorists and tyrants of all time, one of the most ignorant persons of all time, one who believed that he, a mere mortal, was a god. Na’oothubillah!
So shaytaan wants you to lose hope in Allah's mercy because even he knows that Allah's mercy is so great! So my dear brothers and sisters, do NOT allow shaytaan to lead your mind into this darkness and do not allow your mind to succumb to that which shaytaan plans! His plans are to steer our hearts in a direction that our hearts should never go. He plans to instill hopelessness in our hearts. Allahu Akbar!"

Zuhaira gasped, had she not known any better, she would have thought that her husband had opened her mind to read her thoughts. Her gasp had piqued the attention of Rayyaan. He was about to enter the room when he saw his wife crying as she listened to the lecture he had given a few weeks ago. He wondered how she had it recorded on her phone. He stood at the entrance of the room, his hands jammed into his pockets and watched his wife's back and shoulders heave. He did not want to disturb her yet.

"There are countless other ayahs in the Qur’aan, in this instruction manual for mankind, in this beautiful book by the Author of all authors, that highlight Allah's mercy: Just listen to these beautiful words of the Holy Qur’aan.
“Do not lose heart nor fall into despair! You shall triumph if you are believers.”
“O my sons (said Prophet Jacob)! Go you and enquire about Yusuf (Joseph) and his brother, and never give up hope of Allah’s Mercy. Certainly no one despairs of Allah’s Mercy, except the people who disbelieve.”
These are just some of the examples in the Qur’aan, there are so many more. We are human, Allah knows that we will sin, we were created with desire, with nafs. And succumbing to our evil nafs may happen from time to time but that does not mean that we are doomed. We need to beg Allah for forgiveness, for mercy because surely He will give it to us. Anas ibn Malik reported: The Messenger of Allah (SAW) said, “All of the children of Adam are sinners, and the best of sinners are those who repent.” So we will sin, each and every one of us, but we need to turn to Allah, truly and completely. We need to beg Allah for only He can ease our troubled hearts. Sometimes we may feel as if we have sinned way too much and we feel ashamed to turn to Allah. But how do we allow ourselves to use this as an excuse when Allah already knows of our sins? He is just waiting for us to turn to Him. He is waiting for us to ask for forgiveness. After all, He is Ar-Rahmaan, Ar-Raheem (the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful). He is Al Ghaffaar, Al Ghafoor (The Ever Forgiving, The All Forgiving). He is Allah. Never lose hope in Allah's mercy. Allahu Akbar."
 
Chapter 22

Zuhaira was shaking uncontrollably as the recording ended. She wished that she could have heard it earlier. If she had remembered some of these words, she would have felt better.

She did not notice Rayyaan at the door. She slowly got up, wiped away her tears and tried to control her breathing. Almost robotically, she donned an abaya and hijab before standing for voluntary prayer. 

Astonished, Rayyaan watched on. It was the first time he saw his wife pray voluntarily. Her actions were focused, full of concentration. When she ended her payer, she raised her hands in dua. Her sobs shook Rayyaan to his core, they were so heartbreaking, yet they were filled with immense hope. 

And for the first time in her life she felt a contentment  she had never experienced before. It was as if she had been experiencing a heat so intense, she could feel the burn within her and suddenly, a burst of cool, refreshing water was sprinkled upon her. It was as if her sinking heart suddenly parachuted towards the sky happily. It was as if she had been living in a black and white blurry world when suddenly, everything became clear and colourful. In that one moment, nothing that had been important to her before still held importance. Wealth of this world seemed frivolous. Everything that had been so dear to her seemed trivial now. 

Because when Allah chooses guidance for one, no one can take it away. When Allah chooses to guide a hopeless heart, even the strongest forces on this earth cannot reject it.

After what seemed like forever, she got up and that is when she noticed her husband.

Wordlessly, she walked towards him and fell into his arms, crying. "Forgive me," she said, her words mumbled. "I haven't been a good wife, I haven't fulfilled your rights. I've never listened to you."

"Shhh, it's okay." Rayyaan replied. He was speechless, he did not know what to say. The dua he had been making for so long was materializing before his eyes. His wife's heart had opened to the hope in Allah's mercy.

"It's not okay, it's never been okay. I've been living in a cloudy world full of thunderstorms. I've been living in a darkness which I couldn't identify. I've been living unhappily... I've been living a lie. Right up until now. This world and all that it contains is nothing but a fallacy. It is a façade, lying to us, enticing us. And I fell for it all. I fell for the glitz and glamour that the earth portrayed. I wanted it, I wanted to be one of those who lived a fabulous life. I wanted things that weren't even real..." she trailed off, her sobs slowly ceasing.

Rayyaan held onto her, unsure what to say. It was as if his wife were a delicate vase. From past experience he was terrified that she would get back to her ways within a few minutes. But something told him that this time it was real.

Zuhaira continued, "I don't know why I never truly listened to your beautiful words before. Everything I truly sought was right in front of me, calling my name but I was deaf towards it. Now I understand that all you ever wanted for me was goodness, true goodness and not what I believed goodness to be."

Rayyaan blew out the breath that he had been holding. "Maybe I didn't try hard enough."

"But you did, you always did. You begged me not to go out and I didn't listen. Please forgive me..."

"Of course, I love you for the pleasure of Allah."

That night, Zuhaira slept soundly. It was as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She felt peace, she felt contentment.

The next day Radia and Shamima came to visit her. 

"How are you doing?" Radia asked.

"Okay, I guess. I'm still in pain though." Zuhaira replied.

"It's as if one minute we were all having fun and then suddenly you left and everything went crazy." Shamima chimed in.

Zuhaira nodded. "Yeah... I-"

"Why'd you leave though?" Shamima cut in.

"I just didn't want-"

"Oh, sorry! Before you carry on, I have something that might help get your mind off the pain." Shamima winked playfully and pulled out a studded flask. "Here, have a drink before your holy husband comes in."

Zuhaira shook her head. "No, thank you. I actually wanted to talk to you."

Shamima made a face. "Ugh, since when did you become such a wet blanket? You're so boring!"

"I kinda agree. Ever since we got back from holiday, you've been acting strange." Radia added. "What happened? Did you 'see the light?'" She asked laughingly.

Zuhaira sighed. "Look girls, you're not going to like what I have to say-"

"Wait! Sorry, before I forget, we got you this." Shamima interrupted again. She left the room and returned with a huge gift back. "You're going to love this. Open it up!" She exclaimed excitedly. 

Zuhaira peeked into the bag and gaped. She pulled out a beautiful nude, skin tight tube dress, a matching Jimmy Choo handbag and the most gorgeous Louboutin shoes she had ever seen. But the feeling she usually got when she touched such expensive luxury did not pulse through her. The excitement of receiving something so expensive did not reach her heart. Instead, the shock of receiving probably the most expensive gift she had ever received, took residence in her.

"Guys, I can't accept this. It's too expensive."

Radia rolled her eyes. "Of course you can. You can wear it the next time we go partying. You'll look amazing!"

"Well that's what we need to talk about." Zuhaira said softly. "I can't do it anymore."

"Can't do what?" Shamima asked, inspecting her freshly manicured nails.

"Partying, drinking, clubbing. I can't. It's so wrong. It's not for me."

Shamima paused, her fingers still in air. "What are you talking about? You love partying!"

"Allah has showed me true happiness and contentment and it doesn't lie in being wasted and dancing all night long."

Shamima snorted. "Looks like someone got a visit from the haraam police. What happened? Was it that bearded husband of yours? Did he put all of these thoughts in your mind? The haraam police think they're better than everyone."

Zuhaira shook her head and smiled. "None of that happened. I just realised that no matter how many times I've sinned in the past, it does not mean that I can't turn back to Allah.

"You're joking, right? Are you turning into your husband or what?" Shamima asked incredulously.

"I'm serious. There's this contentment I've never experienced before."

Shamima just stared at her as if she were speaking a different language. "So no more partying?"

Radia turned to look at Shamima. "Really? Out of everything she just said, that's all you took out of it?" Radia then turned to Zuhaira. "Maybe we'll get there one day..."

"No more partying." Zuhaira confirmed.

"Ugh. Are you serious right now? What the heck is happening? Who are you and what have to done to party animal Zu?" Shamima asked in annoyance.

"Shamima, look, I'm sorry. But please don't try to entice me back into a world I've been saved from. I'm done."

"Fine. I'm out. Rads, you coming?"

Radia got up and looked at Zuhaira apologetically. "Sorry, I came with her."

Zuhaira handed back the gift. "I can't accept this."

Radia shook her head. "Keep it. We both already have the exact same ensemble in a different colour. We have no use for it."

"Thanks but-"

"Keep it." Shamima cut in. "Seriously, we don't want it. If you ever do decide to come out with us again, you can wear it." With that, she turned on her heel and walked off.

Radia turned to Zuhaira. "I'm proud of you."

Chapter 23

After her friends -or ex friends- had left, Zuhaira stared at the gift in her hands. She did not know what to do with it. She loved the gift, it was beautiful but the lack of excitement of receiving it had thrown her off guard and surprised her. She could not understand why she had not been jumping over the moon and kissing the hands of her friends. In fact, she wanted them to take it back.

Zuhaira sighed and got up just as Rayyaan entered the house.

He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and she smiled. "Assalaamualaykum," she said. "I want to visit my family. Do you mind taking me?"

"Of course I'd take you. We can go now." This was the first time Zuhaira had ever asked Rayyaan to take her to visit her parents.

"Okay, let me just pray first."

They arrived at the Karani household and Zuhaira smiled nostalgically. She could not remember when last she had been to her childhood home. Her smile turned to a frown as she recalled the way she used to speak to her parents. She knocked on the door.

Humayd answered and his face registered in shock. "Zuhaira?" He asked as he blinked hard, as if he were seeing things.

"It's me, Daddy." Zuhaira said.

"Come in!" His face lit up and Zuhaira could see the deep wrinkles that were set in his forehead. She knew that she was the cause of most of his stress.

Salma dropped the stainless steel bowl she was holding when she saw her daughter walk through the door. "Zuhaira?"

Zuhaira grinned. "Assalaamualaykum Mummy." She walked towards her mother and grabbed her in a hug. Salma froze before responding to her hug. This was not the daughter she knew. "How are you?" She asked Salma brightly.

"Alhumdullillah..."

As Salma turned to give Humayd a quizzical look, Zuhaira scooped up her little brother in a bear hug. "I've missed you so much," she whispered to Zubair. She breathed in his scent and smiled. Zubair held onto his sister for dear life, as if letting go would make her disappear.

Zuhaira turned to her parents. "I know you're both surprised that I'm here. I was just missing you, that's all. I realised that I haven't visited you in ages.”

Humayd nodded and broke into a smile. "We've missed you so much!" He exclaimed.

"I want to talk to you though."

Rayyaan looked at his wife, surprised. He had no idea what she wanted to speak about.

Her parents looked at her worriedly. "Is something wrong?" Salma asked. “Is it the baby? Is your baby okay?”

Zuhaira smiled ruefully. "No, no. It’s none of that. I still need to go for my next doctor’s appointment. Actually... I want to apologise..." She trailed of uncertainly.

"About what?" Humayd asked.

Tears sprang to Zuhaira's eyes. "Everything. I want to apologise for being such a terrible daughter, for throwing tantrums, for saying hurtful things all the time, for being ungrateful, even though you were just trying to do your best. I'm sorry Mummy and Daddy. I'm so sorry-" Her voice caught in her throat and she struggled to continue. She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for bringing dishonour and shame to you. I know that in the last few years, word has been going around about what a trashy daughter I've been. And I have been terrible. I partied almost every weekend much to the disappointment of my husband, I indulged in horrible sins; I thought that was my happiness. I thought that would bring me peace to my heart - that I’d been yearning. But I was wrong. I was so wrong. I didn't need any of that to find peace. In fact, all it brought me was a yearning for more, I wanted to be rich, I wanted to be living a glamorous life with riches to excite. I wanted to hurt those closest to me because I believed that they were disappointments. But I was deeply mistaken. I've been the disappointment. I've brought shame and dishonour to my husband and my parents. And yet, the very people who I resented were the only people who truly had my back. Mummy, Daddy, Rayyaan - you were the only ones who cared about my akhirah. You cared about my eternity before I cared about it."

Salma, Humayd and Rayyaan had tears pouring down their cheeks. Oh how merciful is Allah! All their lives, Salma and Humayd had prayed for their daughter. And even before her name had been dragged through the mud, her parents had made dua for her. They had spent sleepless nights over their daughter's actions. More often that not, Humayd would painfully hear someone in the masjid speaking about how Zuhaira Karani shamelessly dressed and partied. They would speak about her drunken demeanor, the way she negatively portrayed herself. 

Salma would hear the women from her taalim group laugh when she entered the room. Their whispers were loud, "Did you hear about Salma's daughter? That girl has no sharam! No shame, I tell you. She's loose. No hayaa. Girls of today have no modesty. Shame man. How does she even show her face here?" And the moment Salma was close, they would shut their mouths, smiling hypocritically at her.

Likewise, Rayyaan heard it even more often. He would hear people saying, "How is the imam married to such an immoral girl? She parties with strange men, she drinks alcohol and she's at the clubs every weekend. Ya Allah! How did he marry her? I would never allow my son to bring someone like her home. I hear she's the granddaughter of that Karani uncle who stole from the government. It looks like immoral behaviour runs in that family. How do we listen to our imam when his own wife does everything he preaches against? Tsk." 

And Zuhaira knew about it all. She heard the rumours, she heard the stories. People went so far that they had accused her of drugs and promiscuity. And those were the two things that Zuhaira had always stayed away from.

The dishonour she had brought her family would keep her up at night. But she knew that Allah gives honour and Allah takes it away.

Salma and Humayd hugged their daughter, their tears mixing with each other. It was an emotional, beautiful moment.

And it is only in Allah's will that one can change drastically. Just the way Allah can make a pauper a prince, He can make a prince a pauper. And just the way He can bless someone with honour, He can also take it away. That is why dua is so important. We need to beg Allah to save us from dishonour, to save us from sin.

After all, when we were in the wombs of our mothers, our fate regarding whether we will be blessed or doomed in religion was set. We need to work towards being better and ensuring that we try to be the best that we can. We need to continually beg Allah to save us, to save our souls. We need to hold on to our iman as tight as we possibly can. Because it would be the worst possible fate to be doomed in religion.

And although our fate is written, it is imperative to work towards becoming better and praying. It is only through dua that our fates can change. So pray, keep praying no matter how tough the times may be or no matter how perfect the times may be, for it is only prayer that can result in miracles.

The evening went by and for the first time since she was a little girl, Zuhaira could feel the happiness in the air in her parent’s home.

Later that week, Zuhaira bumped into the handsome man she often met at the clubs. She tried to avoid him but he was adamant in speaking to her. 

"Zu! Hey Zu! Wait up!" He called.

Zuhaira closed her eyes and quickened her pace. She was at the garage and she needed to buy milk. She was not in the mood to make small talk with anyone.

"Zu!" He said as he caught up to her. "How are you babe? I haven't see you at the club in ages."

"I've been busy,” she replied curtly and continued to walk.

"How about a coffee? We can catch up."

"I'm married." Zuhaira confessed.

After being abrupt and cutting the conversation short, Zuhaira fled. She did not want to be in his presence because she could feel the attraction she had towards him. There were many times when she would look at handsome men and wish that her husband would look like them.

That night, she begged her Lord for forgiveness. She wanted to love her husband, wholly and completely. She did not want to look at another man and wish that her husband looked more like him.

When Rayyaan came home, she greeted him warmly.

"Why don't you speak to me about love for Allah tonight?" She asked her husband.

He settled on the bed and Zuhaira sat opposite him. She watched his face as he began to speak. His face lit up, his eyes shined brightly. And as she continued to stare at her husband, she found herself falling more in love with him. She found herself admiring his looks, admiring the way he spoke, admiring everything about him.

And as he fell asleep later that night, Zuhaira watched him in awe. At that moment, he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. If she had to be asked earlier that month whether she found her husband handsome she would have replied in the negative. After all, he was not the most handsome of men. He was of average height and well built. His face was plain and he had a thick beard. And even though he was not handsome, there was something attractive about him. As Zuhaira watched him sleep that night, she realised that he had a beautiful noor to his face. And it was the noor that made her find him to be the most handsome man she had ever placed her eyes upon.

The weeks flew by and Zuhaira went for a doctor's appointment. She wore a skirt and top and had a hijab propped on her head. She was still trying to dress modestly and today was the first day that she had built up the courage to don a hijab. 

Rayyaan looked at her, his eyes filled with love. "You look so beautiful in a hijab."

She smiled shyly and thanked him.

They made their way into the doctors office and waited for her to attend to them. After she checked her and completed an ultrasound, Zuhaira felt that something was wrong. She saw it in the way the doctor’s forehead creased during the ultrasound and the smile she wore before she left the room to consult with another doctor.

After what felt like forever, the doctor called Zuhaira and Rayyaan into her office.

The words that left her mouth threw both of them into a whirlwind of emotions.
 
Chapter 24

"What do you mean?" Zuhaira asked.

"I mean-"

"I know what you mean, but how?" Zuhaira asked.

"What does she mean?" Rayyaan asked his wife. The doctor and Zuhaira had been discussing things in technical jargon and he could not keep up.

"It means that your child may have heart problems."

"Alhumdullillah," Rayyaan whispered. He turned to his wife. "I won't believe that until we hold him or her in our arms and see it for ourselves. Miracles happen."

Zuhaira nodded understandingly. "You're right. Is it confirmed?"

The doctor explained that there was a highly possible chance that their child may be born with a heart problem. The probability of their child being completely healthy was ten percent.

Zuhaira's tears could not stop falling. She was completely devastated by the news that the doctor had given her. But Rayyaan was her strength. He continuously reminded her that Allah is the All Powerful and All Hearing. He reminded her that Allah's miracles are vast, so vast that the world can never truly understand them.

Zuhaira felt that it may be her punishment though. Maybe she abused her body so much and that's why Allah was punishing her. After all, her body was an amaanah from Allah, something entrusted to her and she did not take care of it. She cried to Allah, begging for her forgiveness over and over again. 

Her past haunted her to such an extent that her body would heave in sobs and she would have trouble breathing. But Zuhaira did not care. She began to spend all of her free time on her musallah, speaking to Allah. 

Within a few weeks of the dreaded news, Zuhaira had changed completely. She turned to Allah with all of her heart. She had taken a break from university, struggling to keep up with reality.

Everyday, she would cry and beg Allah to forgive her and bless her with a healthy baby. 

Rayyaan continued to remind her to have hope in Allah's mercy. Because it is only with His mercy and His Grace that prayers and wishes can materialise. 

Both of them did not give up hope in their Lord. After all, Allah tests His servants. The Qur’aan states, "...Or think you that you will enter Paradise without such (trials) as came to those who passed away before you? They were afflicted with severe poverty and ailments and were so shaken that even the Messenger and those who believed along with him said, “When (will come) the Help of Allah?” Yes! Certainly, the Help of Allah is near!"

And when Rayyaan mentioned this beautiful verse to his wife, she felt at ease. 

The Qur’aan holds many ayahs that will provide us with hope and ease. Allah blessed us with a book so perfect, so accurate and so fitting. It is a book that we can turn to during the experience of any emotion. Be it happiness, sadness, grief, excitement or sorrow. It is a beautiful compilation on everything that any human needs to understand.

But humans are deeply flawed. We forget that Allah has provided us with everything we need to live our lives and strive for Jannah. We expect goodness when our hearts are strayed. We expect things to go our way when we turn away from Allah. 

After all, every ailment, every discomfort, every trial is merely just a stepping stone towards the beautiful gardens of Jannah. And if we have a promise of eternal bliss coupled with the experience of pure euphoria, are the trials of this temporary and flawed world not worth it?

Can you possibly imagine entering Jannah, entering the place we have been promised if we believe and obey Allah... Can you imagine stepping into Jannah and forgetting every heartbreak and every heartache you have ever experienced? Can you imagine never feeling sadness or sorrow again? As the rivers of Jannah flow before you and the gardens of Jannah sway in the perfect breeze of bliss, your heart will soar in comfort softer than cushiony clouds. As you crave a delicious meal and a spread of scrumptious treats, it will appear before you. Can you imagine this place that promises to surpass your wildest imagination? And imagine sitting on a throne whilst sipping pure wine from a goblet made out of gold as you speak to the loved ones that you had once lost in this world, or walking in the most exquisite attire to a palace villa on a beach front. 

Or feeling so absolutely beautiful because your body is no longer stained with the flaws of a human.

Or imagine seeing the Prophet Muhammad (SAW) for the first time and running to him in excitement, eager to meet him as the noor emanating from him captures your heart. Or imagine when a sound so absolutely enchanting, so absolutely perfect reverberates throughout your garden and you realise that it is Allah Himself, reciting surah Rahman. Or imagine gasping in awe as the veil between you and Allah is removed so that you may lay your eyes on the Creator... 

Can you possibly imagine Jannah? Can you possibly imagine heaven? Because Jannah was created for us. And we were created for Jannah. We were not created for this world.

And Zuhaira and Rayyaan held onto each other in comfort as they prayed to their Lord, their hearts at complete ease. They understood that every single thing that happens was already known by the Lord of all the worlds. They understood that taqdeer, destiny, is unavoidable. 

So a few months later, when their beautiful baby boy was born, their hearts were at ease, regardless of the trials that they would have to face if their baby was not born healthy.

But Allah will grant miracles when and if He wishes.

The young couple was given news that made their hearts soar in a delicate and graceful embrace. Their little boy was completely healthy. His heart was in perfect shape and he was absolutely perfect. Allah had blessed them with a gift, a perfect miracle. They named him Muhammad, the name that holds the greatest honour.

But happiness does not last as long as we hope, for happiness in this world is temporary. The promise of eternal happiness in this world is a mere illusion - briefly attainable.
 
Chapter 25

Rayyaan’s mother, Fatima, glared at Zuhaira before grabbing little Muhammad from her arms. 

“Are you sure that this is my son’s child?” She hissed.

Zuhaira was dumbfounded. She thought that she had mended ties with her mother-in-law but clearly, she had been mistaken. She took a deep breath and mustered a smile. “Does mummy want some tea?” She asked, trying hard to keep the smile plastered on her face. Although she had changed for the better, her strong personality was still intact.

Fatima ignored her. “Maybe we should send this boy for a DNA test. What’s it called? Paternity test? In this day and age no one can be trusted.” She held Muhammad up, scrutinizing him. “But you are a handsome little boy,” she cooed. “Maybe you are my grandson.

Zuhaira took a deep breath, trying hard to ignore Fatima’s accusations. “Mummy, can I-”

Fatima interrupted before she could continue. “You have a sweet face, boy,” she said to Muhammad. “I still think that stubborn father of yours should take you for that test. You should never turn out like your mother,” she added quietly. “That girl was loose in her day. I told Rayyaan. He must div-”

“Ma!” Rayyaan interrupted, his voice slightly tainted with irritation. “Please stop speaking nonsense. This is my son and I don’t need a paternity test to prove it. I trust my wife.”

Zuhaira rested her hand on her husband’s arm. “It’s okay,” she managed to say. “I expect people to think that I was loose. I mean, I kind of brought that upon myself. But please know that I never cheated on you by being intimate with another man.”

Fatima rolled her eyes. “This girl is just pretending. This pretense she wears doesn’t suit her.”

Rayyaan’s eyes flashed in anger just as Zuhaira said, “Rayyaan!” Her tone was warning. He glanced at her and she shook her head slightly, indicating to him that he should not say anything else. 

Rayyaan sighed deeply and walked out of the room.

Fatima shook her head. “You’ve ruined my boy as well. Maybe you won’t be able to raise your son, you should give him up for adoption. I’ll take care of him and I’ll raise him right.”

Zuhaira closed her eyes for a second and tried to calm herself down. Her mother-in-law was treading on dangerous waters. She made a prayer for herself, begging Allah to soften her heart towards Fatima and Fatima’s heart towards her.

“Ma, don’t worry. I can take care of my son,” she said sweetly. “I want to raise him to become the man his father is. You really did raise Rayyaan well and I should thank you for that.”

A look of surprise flickered in Fatima’s eyes before being replaced with a cold stare. “Hmph! My son is so good. A haaro poiro. Both my sons are like that you know? At least my other son has such a good girl. That daughter-in-law of mine is my darling, my jaan.”

Zuhaira tried hard not to burst into laughter. Instead, she said, “Yeah ma, Muneera is wonderful. She’s a sweetheart.”

Fatima looked up at her in surprise and opened her mouth, ready to say something. She snapped her mouth shut and decided to remain silent.

Zuhaira continued, “Alhumdullillah for her. She’s such a help to you as well.”

Fatima pursed her lips. “Yes. So good she is man.”

“May Allah bless her.”

“Ameen.” Fatima muttered to herself. She then turned to Zuhaira. “Bring my grandson to visit me. If he really is my grandson you will want him to know his dadi.”

“I will.” Zuhaira promised, ignoring the rest of her mother-in-law’s remarks.

That night, Zuhaira turned to Allah. She knew that she brought her mother-in-law’s dislike upon herself and she needed Allah to help her rectify it.

And while Zuhaira prayed for her relationship with Fatima, Rayyaan also prayed for their relationship. More than anything, he wanted the woman that had raised him and the woman who chose to spend her life with him to get along.

He was lucky though. Had it been a few months ago, Zuhaira would have tried hard to turn him and his heart away from his mother. But Zuhaira was a changed woman. She did not want to sever the bond between a mother and son. She encouraged Rayyaan to visit her and often, she invited her over.

But it never seemed enough. Fatima’s heart was completely turned away from Zuhaira and she did not want to turn it towards her. 

Fatima could not be completely blamed though. After all, Zuhaira had hurt her son so much. She had broken his heart and snapped the pieces. Fatima could barely stand to see her son treated that way. And unfortunately, her son had refused to break away from the cause of his pain.

Deep down, Fatima knew that her daughter-in-law was making an effort. 

But the devils purpose is to turn hearts away from each other, especially within families. And so the devil worked on Fatima’s heart, hardening it into indestructible rock.
 
Chapter 26

Little Muhammad began to grow beautifully. Zuhaira had decided to go back to university and complete her last two years of studying after Rayyaan encouraged her to continue. But it was not easy. She had to contact the bursars and explain her situation. After hours on the phone and after going through ten people, her excuse for missing months of university was finally accepted. 

Each day, Rayyaan would drop Muhammad off by either his parent’s house or Zuhaira’s parent’s house. Thereafter, he would drop Zuhaira off at the closest bus rank. 

The girl who was once scantily clad was now much more modest. Her skinny jeans were often paired with long, loose tops. Zuhaira so badly wanted to don the hijab instead of just wearing it once in a while but there was a fear that resided within her, keeping her from doing so.

Zuhaira had not seen Radia and Shamima ever since they had visited her after her accident. Nervously, she entered the lecture hall. Her eyes scanned the crowd quickly. She did not see either of the girls. Since she had to repeat the year, she saw quite a few unfamiliar faces as well as a few familiar faces. 

She got to her seat and was just settling in when someone plopped into the seat next to hers. Zuhaira looked up in surprise. It was Radia.

Radia was chatting loudly on her phone, oblivious to Zuhaira’s presence. When she finally cut the call, she glanced at Zuhaira and then back at her phone. As if she had just registered who was sitting next to her, she slowly turned back to her old friend.

“Zuhaira?” She asked in surprise.

Zuhaira smiled. “Assalaamualaykum Radia. It’s been a while.”

Radia nodded wordlessly, still too stunned to talk. 

“Where’s Shamima?” Zuhaira asked as she craned her neck to scan the crowd again. “Or is she not repeating the year?”

Radia cleared her throat. “She’s in rehab at the moment. Her parents found her OD’d on the floor of her room,” she replied warily. Her eyes were still wide. 

“Innalillahi wa inna ilayhi rajioon,” Zuhaira whispered. “May Allah make it easy for her and her family, In-Sha-Allah.”

Radia nodded and cleared her throat again. “I thought you dropped out,” she said.

“Well, after my accident, I went into a depression and I was pregnant. I was ready to drop out but my husband encouraged me not to. He knew this was my dream.”

“You were pregnant?” Radia asked, clearly astonished.

Before Zuhaira could answer, the lecturer called for attention. “I’ll speak to you after class,” she said with a friendly smile.

Radia nodded, her face slowly beginning to ease.

After class, Radia and Zuhaira took a stroll through the campus grounds.

“So why didn’t you tell us you were pregnant when we came to visit you? Radia asked.

“I guess I didn’t get much of a chance.”

Radia nodded. “Yeah, that Shamima-“

“Let’s not say anything bad about her,” Zuhaira cut in. 

“Fine... There’s something I need to know though, Zu.”

“What is it?”

“Changing... Has it helped you? Are you... Happy? Content? Or are you still partying?”

Zuhaira looked at Radia in surprise, completely gobsmacked. “I don’t do any of that anymore. I choose not to. And yes, I’ve never been more content in my life. I mean, my life is far from perfect and it may not be all bunnies and roses and there may be times that I’m not happy but I am content.”

“What’s the difference? Between happiness and contentment?”

“I believe that happiness is an emotion, a feeling of gladness, a feeling that’s the exact opposite of sadness. But contentment is to be happy in what Allah has decreed for you. To wholeheartedly accept what He has written out for you. And to be fine with it, to not question Allah. For example, if there’s a death in your family, you wouldn’t be happy. You’d be sad, upset, heartbroken. But it would be possible to be content. Because even though you’re sad, you have accepted fate and you understand that Allah’s plans are better than your own. And you’re okay with His plans. Just because you’re not happy about the situation, doesn’t mean you can’t be okay with Allah’s plans. I know I’m rambling but does that make any sense?”

Radia’s eyes had filled with tears. “It makes sense... Maybe I can move on and stop reflecting on my brother’s death if I just accept Allah’s plans.”

Zuhaira’s eyes widened. “Your brother passed away? I thought he was just unresponsive?”

Radia nodded, a fresh set of tears flooding her face. “He was actually getting a little better. He was responding to us. He was on the road to recovery and then one day we went to-” she broke off, unable to continue.

“You don’t have to repeat the story,” Zuhaira said soothingly.

Radia took a deep breath. “No, I need to talk about it. I don’t have many real friends. All my friends are only interested in partying with me and using me for my parent’s money. But when I truly needed someone, no one was there for me. You’re the only real one I know right now.”

Zuhaira pulled her into a hug. “I wasn’t always real, Radia.”

Radia mustered up a smile. “I know. You used me too. From the moment I met you, I knew that you were using us. That was up until you refused the gifts Shamima and I brought back for you.”

Zuhaira smiled sadly. “I’m so sorry... Would you like to continue with your story?” She gently probed.

“Where was I? Right, so he was getting better, he was responding to us. The doctor’s had told us that he would be okay and from the little knowledge I had, I knew that he was recovering. But then one day we went to wake him up to eat and he - he didn’t wake up. His body was cold. He was gone.” Tears cascaded down Radia’s face and her body shook with sobs.

Zuhaira held the girl that her heart suddenly opened up to. “It was Allah’s will. His plans are better than ours will ever be. Before the creation of our souls, Allah had decreed our entire lives. Allah always knew and planned what will happen. Before any creation, when it was only Him - He knew and He planned this moment.”

Radia nodded as her sobs began to ease. 

The two girls spent hours talking. When Radia thought that she could not turn back to Allah after all of her sins, Zuhaira switched on the recording of Rayyaan speaking about hope. She encouraged Radia and educated her in what she knew. 

Radia felt as if Zuhaira was exactly what she needed right now. Because sometimes, Allah places someone in our lives when we need them the most. Perhaps that is why when we are drowning in our own forms of darkness, a life jacket is handed to us by a complete stranger, urging us to hold on and swim towards the light.

Perhaps that is why out hearts connect to someone we so desperately need in our lives. And it is only because Allah places this person in our lives because He knows us better than we know ourselves.
 
Chapter 27

At first, Rayyaan was skeptical about Zuhaira spending a lot of her time with Radia. He tried to keep an open mind but the fears of the past still haunted him. That was until he heard Zuhaira soothing Radia over the phone and explaining the concept of Allah’s will to her. 

Radia and Zuhaira became extremely close. Each one supporting the other, and trying hard to become better Muslims. 

Initially, they had been friends who took each other closer to evil but now they were friends who wanted to elevate each other in deen. It was beautiful, to say the least. Radia no longer wanted to party as she too, began to feel a change resonate within her.

The change was slow at first but as the taste of iman became sweeter, both girls craved more.

Even Fatima began to warm up to Zuhaira. It was hard to continue to hate her when she truly made an effort. But Zuhaira was also turning to Allah, begging Him to soften her mother-in-law’s heart. 

Zuhaira continued to yearn for change. Her past haunted her, taunted her with the stains of her sins. 

She approached Rayyaan just after she put Muhammad to sleep.

“I have a question,” she simply said.

Rayyaan glanced up from the book he was reading. “What’s up?” 

“I’ve committed so many sins, so many transgressions... Even though I know that my Allah will forgive me, I’m still haunted by my deeds. I was terrible. How do I get over that?”

Rayyaan smiled sympathetically. “Habibti, let me tell you something. When you sin and then sincerely ask Allah for forgiveness and you make a firm intention never to repeat that sin, your sin is forgiven. It’s forgiven to such an extent that it is wiped from your book of deeds, from this earth, from everything. It is as if that sin was never committed.”

Zuhaira’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know that.”

“Allah is merciful. Never forget that. He’s got your back even if the whole world turns their back on you.”

She grinned. “I love that saying!” She sighed happily. “Allah has my back.”

“And when Allah is by your side, nothing can go wrong.” Rayyaan added.

Zuhaira nodded. “That’s so true. How was I so blind?”

And that is the fault in humans. The blind are those who are blinded from the truth, from the religion of peace, not the ones that cannot see. The deaf are those who are unable to hear the purity of that which is true, not those who cannot hear. The dumb are those who do not mention their Creator, not those who cannot speak.

But as these faulty humans, we tend to lean towards the facade of beauty - or so we think. When in actual fact, the beauty of temporary enjoyment is hiding the ugliness of dreadful sin. 

The mere fact that Allah has chosen us to be born into Islam is a blessing on its own. But the mortal mind so rarely remembers this. Instead, we run away from goodness, from the journey to jannah and run towards darkness, towards the shackles of sin which lead to the depths of hell.

Zuhaira prayed her salaah and turned to Rayyaan. “Let’s go visit both our parents. We haven’t seen them in ages.”

Rayyaan agreed and they made their way towards the Karani household.

Little Muhammad squirmed in Zuhaira’a arms when he heard his grandfather’s voice. When Humayd saw his daughter at the door, he grabbed her and Muhammad in a huge bear hug. 

“I was just telling Mummy that we need to visit you!” He exclaimed. “I’ve been missing my daughter and my grandson!”

Salma came to the door and ushered the family in. “Zubair has been missing you so much!” She told Zuhaira.

The moment Zubair heard his sister’s voice, he came waddling into the lounge. He hugged his sister, his arms firmly around her legs. Zubair was already five years old and when Zuhaira thought about it, she hated the fact that she had stayed away from her family for so long. She had truly missed the little milestones of Zubair’s life. Her little brother could now speak in full sentences.

“I want to see me brother!” He said excitedly, trying to reach for Muhammad.

Zuhaira laughed. “Muhammad is your nephew, not your brother.”

Rayyaan laughed, took Muhammad from Zuhaira and took Zubair’s hand before leading him outside so that his wife could spend some time with her parents. Zuhaira looked around the cramped house. Instead of feeling unhappy, she felt a sense of comfort. She could not believe that she had despised the home she grew up in for so long.

Zuhaira grabbed Salma and squeezed her in a hug. “How have you been doing?” She asked.

Salma smiled. “Alhumdullillah! I don’t have any complaints. Allah has blessed me with everything I need.”

Zuhaira was in awe of her mother. She did not realise it before, but she realised it now. Her mother had never ever complained about anything even though she had every reason to. Her hands looked older than her age, raw and dry from her hard work. But Salma still smiled and thanked Allah. 

Zuhaira swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and hugged her mother again. She had been raised by a phenomenal woman, yet she had been the complete opposite.

And so often, we forget that even when one is raised by amazing people, they can still turn out the complete opposite. Many times, youth are influenced by their friends and societal expectations. It is not their parent’s fault if they turn to a life of sin. It is the individuals own choices coupled with the whispering of the devil that leads them to such sinful lives. 

Perhaps it is the test of the parents or the test of the individual. After all, a believer will be tested.

Later that evening, the little family made their way towards Rayyaan’s parent’s house.

Zuhaira took a deep breath. She knew that her mother-in-law was slowly warming up to her but she still felt a sense of dread at times, terrified that she would be wrongfully victimized because of her past.
 
Chapter 28

As Zuhaira entered the house and greeted her mother-in-law with a warm hug, she was surprised that her hug was reciprocated the same way. 

“Zuhaira, my child! You haven’t visited in so long man. I was wondering where you were.”

Zuhaira gaped, stunned into silence.

Rayyaan quickly came in front of Zuhaira and greeted his mother, his own shock clearly prevalent. 

“Let me see my handsome grandson,” she said to Zuhaira.

Wordlessly, Zuhaira handed Muhammad to her.

“Come, I was busy cooking. You must eat here tonight.” Fatima led them to the lounge.

Zuhaira cleared her throat and tried to bury her shock. “How have you been, Ma?” She asked.

“Agh fine. Just this knee has been troubling me. I’m getting so old now.”

“Why doesn’t ma sit? Let me help ma cook.” Zuhaira offered. She was almost certain that Fatima would reject her help as she so often did, but this time she did not. 

“Okay, you can help me. I was just going to make some curry. I have rotis in the freezer so I’m not making again. I can’t make fresh these days.”

Zuhaira helped Fatima into a seat and placed Muhammad on her lap. “If Muhammad gets too heavy for ma, just tell me. I’ll take him from you.”

The two woman chatted as if they always got along. Much to her surprise, Fatima had never been this nice to Zuhaira. Even Rayyaan could not help but wonder what had happened to his mother that had initiated such a change.

But such is the mercy of Allah. He gives honour and He takes honour. And it is only in Allah’s mercy that hearts are softened towards one another and it is only in His mercy that love blossoms in the hearts of enemies.

And when the Creator loves you, the entire creation is automatically drawn to the Creator’s beloved. After all, the Hadith in Bukhari states: “When Allah loves a slave, He says to Jibreel, 'I love so-and-so, so love him,' so Jibreel loves him and then calls out to the people of heaven, 'Allah loves so-and-so, so love him,' and the people of heaven love him, and then acceptance is placed in the Earth for him." 

Oh, how beautiful! The love of Allah for His servant flows like a river towards the earth. Can you possibly imagine being so loved by Al-Wadud, the Most Loving One? Can you imagine being loved by the very Creator of love itself?

Zuhaira ended up cooking dinner that night and Fatima could not stop praising her. 

“You cook so lovely! I didn’t know you cook like this. My Rayyaan is so lucky to be married to you.” Fatima gushed.

Rayyaan and Zuhaira exchanged a smile. Previously, Fatima would insult everything about Zuhaira, right down to the way she walked and talked and right now, Fatima had nothing but praise for Zuhaira. 

That night, Zuhaira fell in gratitude to her Lord, grateful for everything in her life. The tears poured down her cheeks as she thanked Allah over and over again, feeling as if she were so ungrateful. 

Just as she lifted her head from the prayer mat, she heard Muhammad get up. She rushed to his room but Rayyaan was already there, beautifully calming him down with the sweet words of the Qur’aan. Zuhaira watched, completely awestruck. Muhammad was listening intently, a small smile coming to his face. 

In that moment, Zuhaira’s heart spun out of control, a mixture of emotion overtaking her. She was ecstatic that her son loved listening to the beautiful words but she felt as if she had been stabbed. Because in that moment, Zuhaira thought about her mother. If she loved Muhammad this way, then surely her mother loved her just as much. With all the grief that Zuhaira had given her, she finally understood why Salma never disowned her. It was because of the love her mother had for her.

Rayyaan turned around as Muhammad drifted off into a peaceful sleep and his forehead creased in concern when he noticed the tears pouring down Zuhaira’s cheeks.

“Habibti? Are you okay?” He whispered.

Zuhaira nodded. “I’m just thinking... I’ve been terrible.”

Rayyaan collected his wife in a hug. “Shhh, no matter how many sins you commit, Allah always forgives.”

“I will never be able to repay my parents for everything they have done. If only I could do something for them,” she said through tears. She was silent for a long time as Rayyaan consoled her. “Hajj,” she whispered.

“What?” Rayyaan asked, clearly confused.

“I wish I could send them for Hajj. I just don’t have the money.”

“Dua is powerful,” he simply replied.

Zuhaira nodded, her mind already beginning to brainstorm ideas. She did not want to wait until she was a qualified doctor because she did not know if her parents would be around until she started making money. Besides, her intention for becoming a doctor had changed. She no longer wanted to become a doctor just for the money, she wanted it so that she could help people.

The next day, Zuhaira decided to look for the gift that Radia and Shamima had given her years ago. She knew that she could make some money and save it if she sold them. She had not gotten rid of it earlier because even though she had given up lavish luxury and materialism, she could not part with the beautiful gifts. It was one of her weaknesses. But right now, she had priorities and the gorgeous shoes and handbag were not one of them. 

Rayyaan came in and pecked her on the cheek. “I’m heading to the masjid.” He looked around and raised an eyebrow. “What’s all of this?” He asked.

“An action plan. I’m going to sell this and save up. My heart is adamant on taking my parents for Hajj.”

Rayyaan smiled before greeting her. Just as he was leaving, there was a knock at the door. He let the visitor in and told her that Zuhaira was in the room before he headed out.

When the visitor walked into the room, Zuhaira did a double take. Standing before her was Radia, clad in a hijab. Zuhaira did not realise that her friend would take such a big step so soon.

“Radia?” She asked after gaping at her for a good few seconds.

Radia smiled. “I decided to start wearing the hijab. What do you think?” 

“You look beautiful! Maybe I should start wearing it all the time too. There’s a beautiful glow on your face, an iridescent noor.”

Radia blushed. “I hope it doesn’t become too difficult. For now, I’m loving it! Men actually respect me! Before, everywhere I’d walk, I’d hear catcalls from disgusting men. The moment I started dressing modestly and donned the hijab, not a single man has said anything rude to me. In fact, people greet me with salaam!”

“You’ve convinced me! Honestly speaking, I’ve been wearing it on and off for a while now. I don’t think that hijab is something one should ‘be ready’ for. I think you just have to jump into it and just do it because it is compulsory. How can we say that it’s our choice when it’s Allah’s commands? We shouldn’t have a choice when it comes to Allah’s commands... But I have been telling myself that I’ll wear it full-time when I’m ready... I think it’s time to take the plunge into the delicious waters of Iman.”
 
Chapter 29

Radia smiled as she watched her friend talk about the hijab. It was truly beautiful the way her face had lit up and the sparkle in her eye had danced. 

As Zuhaira grabbed a hijab from her drawer, Radia surveyed the room. 

“What are you doing?” She asked as her eyes fell upon the gifts that she and Shamima had given Zuhaira.

Zuhaira smiled sheepishly. “I need to sell these gifts you gave me because I need the money. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t. But why do you need the money - if you don’t mind me asking?”

Tears welled up in Zuhaira’s eyes. “I want to save up enough to buy my parent’s Hajj tickets. I vaguely remember that their names had been on the list a few years ago but they never could afford it. Rayyaan put our names on the list when we got married but then he lost his job so things have been a bit hectic.”

Radia nodded thoughtfully and remained silent. As Zuhaira grabbed a box from the cupboard, she gasped loudly.

“What’s wrong?” Radia asked.

“This watch. I didn’t know I still had it.” Zuhaira lifted the Tag Heuer watch that Imraan had gifted her from the box. Maybe I can sell this. I’ll probably have enough for one ticket.”

Radia motioned towards the watch. “Let me see that.” She turned it around in her hand, carefully examining it. She sighed forlornly. “I’m sorry Zu but this is fake.”

Zuhaira stared at the watch, totally aghast. “I should have known,” she whispered. “He didn’t love me to begin with. Why would he spoil me?”

“Who are you talking about?” Radia asked.

“Imraan. The man that shot me.”

“That asshole?” Radia asked in anger.

“Let’s not speak about it. It doesn’t matter in any case. I just thought that maybe this watch could have made me more money. But oh well, it’s not meant to be. And maybe because it was a gift from the involvement of zina, it wouldn’t be the best idea to use it for a Hajj ticket.”

Radia smiled. “You are one phenomenal woman, you know that?”

Zuhaira looked up at her friend and noticed the sincerity in her eyes. “I don’t think so but if you do, continue praying for me. I need all the dua I can get.”

“I’ll always pray for you. But on one condition, you have to pray for me too.”

Later that evening, Rayyaan caught Zuhaira staring at him as he was holding Muhammad.

Rayyaan glanced up and smiled. “What?” He asked.

“Nothing,” Zuhaira said shyly. “I’m just enjoying staring at you. You have the most beautiful noor about you. It’s enthralling. And every time I look at you, my heart fills with immense love.”

Rayyaan got up and took a seat next to her. “I feel the same way about you.”

Zuhaira shook her head. “But you’ve been good all your life. I’ve been horrible. I had the worst character. I’m surprised that you didn’t divorce me.”

“I was not always good. I had my fair share of nonsense that I got up to. When I was a teenager, I would follow in the footsteps of my so-called friends. When they would chat up girls, I’d join them. When they would whistle at girls, I’d join them. It was a struggle. We all have our struggles. We’re all human and we all have tests.”

“But at least what you did was not as bad as what I did.”

“But that’s the thing habibti. It’s still a sin. And just because we all sin differently, it doesn’t mean we’re better than the next.”

Zuhaira smiled. “That’s true.” She raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on her lips. “So you used to whistle at girls?”

Rayyaan laughed. “May Allah forgive us for our times of jahilliya.”

Later that week, Zuhaira was about to leave the house to do some grocery shopping when a small, white envelope which had been slipped through the door, caught her eye. 

Quizzically, she picked it up. 

“What’s that?” Rayyaan asked just before he was about to head out the door.

Zuhaira shrugged. “I have no idea. We don’t usually get mail at home.” Her eyes widened. “I hope it’s not from the landlord! Were we not able to afford rent for last month? Are we being evicted?”

Rayyaan smiled reassuringly. “I’m pretty sure it isn’t. Well, it shouldn’t be. I paid the rent.”

Zuhaira took a deep breath and tore the envelope open. Her eyes widened in disbelief. “What on earth...?” She muttered.

“What is it?” He asked.

“Hajj tickets.” She barely whispered.

“What?”

“Look, there’s four Hajj tickets here. And there’s a note.”

“Well, what does it say?”

“Here’s Hajj tickets - take your parents with and remember me in your duas. Love R.” Zuhaira read.

Rayyaan fell into sujood, his heart overwhelmed with happiness. He had been praying for this for as long as he could remember. And when Zuhaira had told him that she wanted to take her parents for Hajj, his duas became even more earnest. He did not know where he would get the money from but he had faith in his Lord.

And such is a miracle of Allah. When you do not know if a situation will get better and yet, your faith pushes you. It pushes you towards firm belief, towards the Lord of all the worlds. Because nothing is impossible for the Creator of the universe and everything that it contains. And even when you are so sure that you cannot overcome the barriers in your life or you are so sure that something is impossible, Allah steps in and grants you light in your life in the form of a perfect miracle. He blesses us with endless, vast and oh-so-beautiful miracles that it is practically unbelievable. These miracles are only granted with faith. And faith in Allah is your strongest weapon. For faith can move mountains and change the colour of the ocean.

Zuhaira just stared at the tickets as the word “Alhumdullillah!” poured out of her mouth. She could not believe it. 

When the shock subsided, Zuhaira was about to call Radia when there was a knock on the door. She opened the door and there was Radia, smiling at her.

Zuhaira fell into her arms as tears poured down her cheeks. She could barely speak as emotions washed over her. When she finally composed herself, she said, "Oh Radia! JazakAllah!"

"For what?" Radia asked.

"The hajj tickets."

Radia waved her arm dismissively. "Oh, it was no big deal."

"It's a huge deal! I can't imagine what it could have costed. I'll pay you back when I start making my own money In Sha Allah."

Radia laughed. "I really do not need the money. It's a gift and you can't refuse a gift. All I want from you is dua. I need duas. And I already feel like I owe you so much."

"But I didn't do anything."

"You saved me when I was drowning in my own darkness. You saved me when I needed saving."

Zuhaira pulled Radia in for another hug. "May Allah bless you with success in both worlds. Alhumdullillah for angels like you."

"I'm far from an angel. I need the reward and the dua."

Later that day, Zuhaira and Rayyaan waited on the Karani doorstep. When Salma opened the door, Zuhaira burst into a smile.

After greeting everyone, Zuhaira made her family take a seat. With the biggest grin on her face, she said, "Allah has blessed me with the best family and the best husband. It's a pity I didn't see it before. And He has also blessed me with the most amazing friend I could have ever asked for." She took a deep breath. "My friend, Radia, has gifted me with hajj tickets.

The room erupted in praises to Allah.

"I'm so happy for you!" Salma said with tears in her eyes. 

"When you go there, please remember us in your duas. In Sha Allah we will also go one day." Humayd said.

"There's more." Zuhaira mentioned. When they all remained silent and looked at her quizzically, she continued, "Radia gave me four tickets. For myself and Rayyaan and for you, Mummy and Daddy."

Salma's mouth hung open in shock and Humayd was already prostrating, weeping with all his heart.

"Alhumdullillah!" Salma finally managed to choke out, her voice thick with emotion. 

"Alhumdullillah!"

Zuhaira and Rayyaan looked at each other, their own eyes filled with tears.

Their hearts soared with love and joy. Happiness engulfed them, firmly holding them. They knew that it was only because of Allah’s mercy that they were blessed with such an amazing gift.

Epilogue

*Six years later*

The beautiful call to athaan caressed her ears before gently waking her up from her sweet slumber. She smiled in contentment and sighed. Her husband had already left for Fajr salaah.

She performed her wudhu and made her way to her children's room. Little Muhammad and his brother, Uthmaan, lay peacefully sleeping. 

Gently, she woke Muhammad up to join her for prayer. He was seven years old and Zuhaira was adamant on inculcating the love of salaah in her son's heart.

After Muhammad went back to sleep, Zuhaira stayed on her prayer mat, thanking Allah over and over again. She truly felt blessed.

Later that day, just after Zuhaira came back from working all morning, she prepared for the picnic her family had planned. Zuhaira had decided that instead of working for the money, she wanted to work towards bettering the lives of others and so, she was a doctor for a non profit organisation. Since she understood the struggle of not being able to afford proper healthcare, she had joined this organisation who did not pay much but who aimed in saving lives. Radia had decided to take the same path that Zuhaira had chosen. The two were the best of friends, a true friendship which had only been created on the foundation of their love for their deen. They both encouraged each other to better the lives of others and to better their own Iman.

Once they arrived at the pretty park, they sat on the grass, savouring the serenity of their surroundings. Zuhaira watched as her parents made their way towards the pathway to go for a walk. Muhammad and Uthmaan were kicking a ball around with Zubair. Zuhaira looked down, Rayyaan's head was in her lap and his eyes were closed. She sighed in contentment. There was absolutely nothing else that she needed in her life.

Although she did not make enough money to live a comfortable, average life, she had never been happier. Only now did she realise that the materialistic pool of this world brought no happiness. She no longer chased after the luxuries of this world. Instead, she chased after the exquisite luxuries promised in Jannah. It was Jannah that she yearned and it was Jannah that she thrived for. She knew that the comforts of this world could never be compared to the comforts of Jannah. It was a lesson she had learned after she spent years chasing after the dunya. She had wasted years on the chase, never feeling satisfied. Because that is what this world is. Nothing but a mere illusion of perfection.

Above all, it is Jannah that is the mu’mins final destination of eternal bliss. This world was created for us but we were never created for this world. Unlike heaven; we are created for Jannah and Jannah is created for us.

They still stayed in the little apartment that they had ever since they got married and some months they truly struggled to pay the rent but with Allah on their side, life was good. She realised that her teenage years had revolved around money and she tried to chase a life that had been cloaked by an extravagant façade. She understood that contentment was a gift from Allah. She was content with all that she had even when life threw her lemons. The content that resonated in her heart was only through the mercy of Allah. And when times were tough and rough, she was not always happy but she was always content.

The same life that had been so enticing at one stage was now the same life that Zuhaira despised. After the cloak of extravagant enticement fell away, Zuhaira realised the true meaning of life. She did not need to be a slave to this world because being a slave to this world can destroy you. She needed to be slave to Allah because being a submissive slave to Allah can elevate you. An elevation in deen is the kind of perfection we need.

She knew that even though her past was dark and dreary, hope had lightened her future. Her hope was only fuelled by Allah's mercy. 

When the mercy we receive in this world is so astonishing, so astounding, can you possibly imagine the mercy Allah has reserved for us on the Day of Reckoning? After all, Allah has reserved ninety nine parts of a hundred parts for this day. But to have hope in Allah's mercy is important. How can we not have hope in the same Creator who creates miracles?

Sin is inevitable but Allah’s mercy is colossal. So when we do sin and err, we should not feel too afraid to turn back to Allah, to ask him for forgiveness. We are mere mortals; after all, we are created with nafs, with desires. Abu Hurairah reported Allah's Messenger (SAW) having said: “By Him in Whose Hand is my life, if you were not to commit sin, Allah would sweep you out of existence and He would replace (you by) those people who would commit sin and seek forgiveness from Allah, and He would have pardoned them.”

In Tirmidhi, it is stated that Muhammad (SAW) said, "When Allah drowned Fir'awn, he (Fir'awn) said: I believe that there is no god except the One that the Bani Isra'eel believe in. So Jibreel said: Oh Muhammad! If you could only have seen me, while I was taking (the mud) from the sea, and filling his mouth out of fear that the mercy would reach him." This is how vast the mercy of Allah is! When the the worst tyrant of all times uttered the words of belief, Jibreel feared that Allah’s mercy would fall onto him. 

The Qur’aan itself reminds us that we can never fall into an ocean too deep where we cannot be saved. As the beautiful ayah which creates hope even in the hardest heart goes, “Say: My servants, you who have transgressed against yourselves, do not despair of the mercy of Allah. Truly Allah forgives all wrong actions. He is the Ever-Forgiving, the Most Merciful.”

After all, Umar (RA) was on his way to kill our beloved Nabi (SAW) when he was blessed with Iman. And he became one of the best Muslims, one of the most talked about sahaabah - that fourteen hundred years later, he is a role model to mankind. He was the one who was “on his way to kill the messenger and now he is buried next to him.” What an honour!

As Zuhaira looked around her, taking in each scene, her heart soared. She looked at her parents as they walked further away and she silently made a dua for them. They had tried so hard to raise her to the best of their abilities but she had been an ungrateful brat. Her heart still ached every time she thought about her sordid past but she had faith in Allah's mercy, she had hope. She watched as her sons and her brother laughed in delight and she smiled. Then she looked down at Rayyaan and her heartbeat quickened. The noor on his face was exquisite. She had fallen so madly in love with him in the last few years that she could barely understand how she had thought that she never loved him. She felt a tug in her heart as her mind went back to the days of her unruly behaviour. How could she hurt the man that only wanted the best for her? He was an angel that had been placed in her life. He was exactly what she had always needed but she had been too engrossed in sin to realise that.

"I love you for the pleasure of Allah." Zuhaira whispered to her husband, decalring her love the Sunnah way.

Rayyaan opened his eyes and blinked against the sun. "May the One for the sake of Whom you love me, love you."

They stared at each other with love, their hearts hoping that while they looked at each other with love, Allah would be pleased with them.

But this was not just any love story. It was not the love tale between two lovers. It was not a love tale between a husband and wife, nor was it a love tale that we so often chase. Alas! It was a love tale that surpasses any other, a love tale that can never be matched, a love tale so epic and so phenomenal, it almost feels unreal.

It was a love tale between the servant and her Lord. It was the love tale between Zuhaira and Allah. It was the story of how a hopeless heart and wretched soul fell in love with her Creator even when she thought that it was impossible. And when she mended her relationship with the All-Knowing, Most Perfect Being, every other relationship in her life miraculously changed for the better.

When her hopeless heart had drowned in the heated heaps of hated sin, Zuhaira was blessed with hope. A hope that can only be fuelled by the mercy of Allah. A hope so completely strong, so completely perfect that it can heal even the hardest of hearts. 

Only Allah can create this hope in our hearts and only Allah can guide us even when we choose to walk the path of sin. After all, He is Ar-Rahmaan, Ar-Raheem - the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful. He is Al Ghaffaar, Al Ghafoor - The Ever Forgiving, The All Forgiving. He is Allah. He is the King of Kings. He is the Most Perfect Being. He is the Creator of the Creation, the Lord of All the Worlds, He is Perfection - He is the Creator of Perfection.

He is the Turner of Hearts.

Oh Turner of Hearts; turn our hearts towards the deen.

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Authors note:

And that's a wrap! We have come to the end of Zuhaira’s rollercoaster of a journey. I loved writing this story because it revolved around hope in Allah’s mercy. And hope in Allah’s mercy is consolation for all of us.

A character that we so strongly hated, we came to love.

'Her Hopeless Heart' is dedicated to all those who feel that their hearts are hopeless. Remember, Allah’s mercy is vast. Turn back to Him because it’s never too late. He loves you, He knows you, He knows your struggles. He is the very Creator of mercy.

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