Manal watched in despair, her life was unravelled piece by piece. The man she had given up everything for was no more. Instead, there was a stranger standing in front of her who was determined to leave without even a semblance of emotion for her.

Yasir dumped his belongings in a large bin bag. Hastily, he unzipped the lone suitcase he owned.

Her hands were shaking and her heart was lurching against her chest. It had been hours since she had been beseeching but it was all to deaf ears. She wasn't going to give up.

"Yasir please listen to me. We can sort this out." She desperately pleaded standing behind him.

Ignoring her, he shoved a bundle of his clothes in the suitcase.

"Yasir please." She took a step closer to him.

There was no reaction, instead he took armful of another bundle of his clothes.

"P...p...please," her voice waivered. Hesitantly her hand hovered over his back.

He dropped the clothes on the floor and whirled around. "What don't you understand? Do you not know what divorce is?"

She shook her head, "you said it in anger and it doesn't count when said in anger."

"Do you think people give divorces in love?" he sneered.

"You can't just say divorce and it's over. We are married as per Irish law as well and it takes years of separation before we will be granted divorce by court." She tried to reason him.

"I am not waiting that long. As far I am concerned I am divorced. You can go to court or whatever. I don't give a shit."

"How could you end it like this?" she sobbed.

"Not everything last forever. Grow up Manal, life isn't all about flowers and unicorns." He shrugged with disregard.

Her lips trembled. She staggered back and slid on the bed. Tears flowed down her cheeks, her vision clouded. She buried her face in her hands. She didn't want to see him leave. No matter how many difference they had she had never envisioned that it would lead to this.

The clock ticked noisily in the quiet flat where Yasir emptied all that belonged to him in various bags. He was in a rush to leave the flat. It was constricting to breathe there especially when he could hear her quiet sobs. He was fed up of her crying. He just wanted run away from her and never look back to this part of his life.

Yasir's phone bleeped. He sighed in relief, reading the text from Irfan "I am here". Finally he was out of here.

He had so many bags. It would take couple of rounds to get everything in the car. He brushed his hair with his hands and got to task. In all this, he was ignorant to her pain.

When everything was loaded in the car. He straightened beside the car. He hesitated to step into it. He looked back at the flat he had called home for the last 4 years.

"C'mon man." Impatiently Irfan rolled down the car window, "Get in. I don't have all day."

Yasir nodded briefly, "Just give me a minute."

He skidded up the steps. The flat door was still open. From his jeans back pocket, he took out the front door key and dropped it on the kitchen counter. He had no right to keep the key anymore. He wasn't going to come back.

Making his way to the bedroom, he came to a halt watching her crying in her misery, "Go back to your parents Manal. Next time you think to marry someone just don't make his life miserable."

Manal's jaw clenched, with the back of her hand she wiped her wet cheeks, "You took everything you wanted from me and left with nothing." She pointed at him, "You are the one who ruined my life."

He shook his head, "no you did all that because of your insecurities. You were always worried I will not stay." He smiled sardonically, "You know why I never took you to my Pakistan to meet my family? I have been engaged to my cousin all these years. I couldn't give my mother a shock. You are the one who begged to marry me." He raised his eyebrows reminder her the weeks before their wedding how she had pleaded. "I had never believed of it as a marriage that would last."

He took a step closer, "No sane man would want a run-away woman as his wife and the mother of his children."

Those words pierced her heart. "Get out." She said through her clenched teeth.

He laughed loudly, "Gladly. It was great while it lasted."

His shoulders were still shaking with mirth as he walked out of the flat, banging the door behind.

She won't be coming after him nor will her brother or father will. Mission accomplished, now he could lead his life the way he wanted to.

It was time to party.

****

The silence of the flat was eating her. She blinked several times to stop her tears but it was to no avail. She lie down on her side of the bed. Her shoulders shook as her cries grew louder. She brought her knees to her chest, in a foetus position, her body rocked with each sob. With each tear, her heart slashed further.

What will she do now?

She was all alone. The man she had left her life for no longer was with her. This flat wasn't home anymore. It was a mocking reminder of her gullibility and the evidence of her ruin.

How will she face everyone?

She will be mocked. No one will accept her. Heck, she didn't even know how her own family will take this news. In the last four years, she seldom called her mother to inform her she was alright. But she had no contact with her father or brother.

She feared for rejection and the backlash from them. She couldn't go back to any of them. She shook her head, thinking wildly of her options. In the last year, she had resigned her full-time job and since then she had been working odd jobs. She was just fed up.

She buried her face in the pillow to muffle her loud cries. Her hands fisted the pink bedsheet. Her knuckles turned red.

How will she live?

She didn't want to live any longer. No matter what Yasir had done in the past and now she still loved him. All she ever hoped for was Yasir to be there for her. But he left.

What if she apologized again, he might come back. She jolted to an upright position and grabbed her phone.

With trembling fingers, she dialled his number. It went straight to voice mail, "Yassir. ...y..y...Yassir. I am sorry ... I ... I ... I .. am sorry. Come back ... c...c...Come back. Please ... P...Please. I will do as you say. I will be as you want me. Just don't leave. P...Please."

The call ended. The voice mail option ended. Her phone slid from her hand on to the mattress.

"Come back"

"Come back"

She kept chanting. Her body slithered down from the bed and on the floor.

"Come back."

"Come back."

Her head fell on the floor with a thud.

"Please." A plea left her lips before everything went blank.

****

"How was the lecture?" Conor asked taking a seat beside the small café table.

Dylan took a sip of his coffee, "Good actually." He nodded thoughtfully. "It wasn't as bad as I was dreading."

Conor smiled, "I knew it wouldn't be a problem. After all, talking in front of the audience is not new for you."

Dylan eyebrows rose, "Conor." He warned.

Conor rose his hands in surrender, "Sorry man. But sometimes I can't forget."

Dylan took a deep breath and looked away. He gazed out at the window seeing people walking by. It was one aspect of his life that he was desperate to forget. In the years, since he had become a Muslim he had found peace. But small reminder brought back rush of emotions and tormented memories. Memories that still haunted him.

"You know you might change your plans of pursuing career in research and instead focus on becoming a lecturer." Conor mused loudly.

"Funny, I have been thinking the same. Let's see if Allah wills."

Conor pursed his lips. Dylan was the least religious of all his childhood friend. In fact, if he was correct during their youth days Dylan was an atheist but in the last four years his beliefs and faith had taken a complete different turn. Today, Dylan was a devout Muslim. Sometimes, it scared Conor. He had tried to express his concerns for the fervently manner Dylan prayed and brought Islam in every aspect of his life. But the man was rigid in his beliefs and had light-heartedly rebuked him.

With all those zealous Muslims ready to take their lives in the name of God, Conor was worried whether Dylan had same thinking now years after studying and practicing Islam. The truth be told, Conor had never seen a violent streak in Dylan in fact quite the opposite since he was a Muslim. Dylan had become far content with his life which clearly evident in the changes in him.

The first words of the Azaan from Dylan's phone jolted Conor from his thoughts. Confused, he glanced at his mate.

Dylan clicked on his phone screen silencing the Azaan alert, "Sorry man, I better get going it's prayer time."

"Exactly how many times do you pray? Every time I meet you in any time of the day you always have to go for prayer."

Dylan's eyes crinkled, "Want to join me?"

Conor balked, his face growing pale, "No I think I am good."

"Well think about it. You might actually like it." He nodded, "See ya"

"Ya see ya." Conor mumbled.

He had given up on Dylan. He was a lost cause.

****

In the serenity of the mosque, Dylan sat against the wall reading the Quran. Fajr the early morning prayer had completed an hour ago. The worshippers had left and here he sat in the empty masjid.

"And certainly, We shall test you with something of fear, hunger, loss of wealth, lives and fruits, but give glad tidings to As-Saabiroon (the patient).

Who, when afflicted with calamity, say: 'Truly, to Allaah we belong and truly, to Him we shall return.'

They are those on whom are the Salawaat (i.e. who are blessed and will be forgiven) from their Lord, and (they are those who) receive His Mercy, and it is they who are the guided ones"

[al-Baqarah 2:155-157]

The years had passed by in a blur since he had embraced Islam. But with each passing day the purpose of life was clearer. He was a lost man, a delusion soul seeking a purpose that he didn't understand himself. As he studied the Holy Book and the Hadith his understanding increased with it he became steadfast and determined to pursue further learning of the religion he had adapted.

Today, sitting as the lone sole in the masjid on a weekend morning when the world slept, reading the Quran understanding the Allah's words brought tears to his eyes. Indeed life wasn't easy that is what trials of this duniya (world) were but at the same no matter where he turned there were immense blessings to be thankful for. The fact he was still alive and breathing was the biggest blessing.

Otherwise...there was a time where he had tried his best to end this life.

He shook his head and gently closed the Holy Quran. He placed the Quran in the book shelf and made his way to the door.

He was slipping his slippers on when a voice behind him startled him, "Aah if it isn't Dylan."

Dylan smiled and greeted the Imam who had become a father figure in his life.

"Assalam u alaikum Shaikh." He clasped the older man's hand in a firm handshake.

"Walaikum salaam son. You are still here. Shouldn't you be in bed. It's a Saturday morning."

"I rather be here than anywhere else."

The Imam smiled softly, "That's good mashaa Allah. But son it is time you start thinking of your future."

Dylan's frowned, "Future?"

"I never brought this up as you were still busy learning Islam and also resuming your own studies. But son its time you think of family life. I have many brothers who come and request I find suitable man for their daughters / sisters."

Dylan's grey eyes crinkled, "You are also a match maker Shaikh. Now that is impressive."

The Imam patted Dylan's shoulder, "Marriage completes your deen. You know how important it is and how much it is stressed."

It was one topic he didn't want to discuss with anyone. Marriage meant to love again. And he had lost his heart long time back.

"I ... I ... need to think about this."

"Whenever you decide let me know. I will gladly help inshaa Allah."

"Inshaa Allah" Dylan murmured.

He wasn't ready yet. In fact, he didn't think he would ever be able to forget the past.

More importantly forget her.

****

Her head was throbbing. She placed her hands on the floor and slowly rose to a sitting position.

Where was she?

There was darkness in her room. She couldn't remember anything. Bemused, she looked around thinking why she was on the floor. But lately, that was where she was most of the time.

Her legs were trembling as she stood up. Her stomach growled. She couldn't remember the last time she had any food. Her stomach growled again. It was hurting now. On unsteady legs, she made her way to the kitchen. She grabbed a cup, filled it with tap water and greedily she drank. The water spilled from the corner of her mouth. She didn't care that her shirt was getting wet.

She pulled open the fridge door. There was expired milk bottle, two moulded apple and a few slices of bread. From the looks of it, the bread was dried up. She let go of the fridge door.

Her eyes watered, threatened to spill again. She was giving up. It had been couple of days since the episode with Yasir. Nearly a week. And in all this time she had barely lived.

She had called in sick at work. Didn't bother to cook or go to shops to get food. Instead, all she did was cry, cry and cry.

She wept over her life.

She was now tired. Very tired.

No one was there for her. No one. In that moment, a realization hit her. There was one who would not ask.

She had to make a call. She was going mad. Her phone battery had died. She hurriedly plugged it to the charger. Impatiently, waited for her old iPhone to switch on. She rubbed her thumb at the phone screen. How her father had fulfilled all her wishes. The phone was just one example.

In the last four years, she hadn't bought anything for herself. In fact, she had no new possessions at all. She clenched shut her eyes. She wasn't going to think of this.

The phone screen illuminated in the darkness. She punched in her pin code and dialled the one number she knew no matter how many times she called was always answered.

On the second ring, the phone answered.

"Hello Ammi."

****

So after months or maybe a year. I am back this time with the hope of writing every weekend inshaa Allah. Lets see....

Do comment would love to hear from all of you. need some encouraging words to squeeze writing time in my busy schedule.

Until next time,

Assalam u alaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuhu