"Life is not about finding the right person, but creating the right relationship. It's not how we care in the beginning, but how much we care till the very end."

(Unknown)

*2 months later*

❤My Mother❤

My mother, how much I love her and long to see her ,
I long to meet her and kiss her right hand.

My mother, how much I love her and long to see her,
I long to meet her and kiss her right hand.

My mother, is a spring of tenderness.
My mother is a gift from The Most Merciful(Allah)....

Her soul is like a basil flower ,
I enjoy its fragrance.

My mother, how much I love her and long to see her,
I long to meet her and kiss her right hand.

My mother is prettiest of all pretties,
Her face illuminates.

My mother is full of joy, happiness and light.

My mother, how much I love her and long to see her ,
I long to meet her and kiss her right hand.

So Merciful Lord , keep my mother safe,
And in order to get your satisfaction , bless me with her satisfaction.

My mother how much I love her and  long to see her,
I long to meet her and kiss her right hand.

Her soul is like a basil flower ,
I enjoy its fragrance.

Khadija buried her hands in her face,  allowing her tears to cascade down her face, as the Arabic nazm regarding a mother played in the car. Array of emotions stirred up within her, she was never one to break down infront of others, but the death of her mother had broken her strong wall and left her more broken than she had ever been, she had become so sensitive in the past two months, that the silliest of things made her cry. 

Khair stared ahead, with glassy eyes as he listened to the nazm, oh how he wished his beloved mother could have been here, but Allah knows best, to Allah we belong and to Allah we shall return, when we lend someone something, it is incumbent on us to return it to the owner, his mother was only here for a short while , like how everyone else shall be and Allah had taken back her soul.

Their father sat in the passenger seat alongside Shaakir, he gazed out of the window, a distant look in his eyes.

Shaakir mentally slapped himself for having put this specific Cd into the radio before he left home , when the nazm had begun , realising it was probably not the best one to listen to at the moment , he stretched his hand to change the nazm , Khair's father held his hand, he gave Shaakir a small smile.
"Leave it son , we need to learn to move on, changing this is not going to make a difference, her memories abide in our hearts, we're constantly reminded of her  anyway ."

Shaakir nodded, he felt suffocated in the silence , the tense atmosphere was killing him, he couldn't wait to get home , he didn't even know how to start a conversation in this awkward silence.

She strolled upon the slightly heated , beach sand,  leaving behind the imprints of  her feet, the grains of sand tickled her barefeet, her royal blue dress swished against her ankles, as she walked, her black scarf, danced along with the gentle breeze. She breathed in the salty air, exhaling  a sigh of contentment.

A shy smile crept onto her face, a slight blush coloured her cheeks , her heart thumped  loudly against her rib cage,   along with the waves, that thrashed against each other. Today was the day that Khair along with his father and sister would come and officially propose.

Two months after his mother's death , his father decided that the matter was delayed for a very long time, he didn't wish to delay any further , and also he desired to fulfil his  late wife's wish, her wish of wanting her son to settle down , her wish for him to propose to Safwa....

She felt her heart tighten at the thought of his mother, she had never met his mother, she had only heard good things regarding her and that made her wish that she could have met her , atleast just once before she passed away.

Her heart cried in pain for Khair, how he must have  been feeling ...he would not have his mother with him  at an important stage in his life , if things  worked out by the will of Allah, and if they agreed to make Nikaah ... how broken he would feel not having his mother by his side when he  made Nikaah? She wouldn't be there to look at him all ready for his Nikaah , with happiness and pride shinning in her eyes , she wouldn't be there to tell him.. how proud and pleased she is that she is fulfilling her wish and getting married , she wouldn't be there to peck his forehead lovingly,  and tell him she cannot believe he grew up so fast, she would not be there to continuously make duaa for his happiness, but surely Allah will accept the duaa's she made when whilst she was alive.

Safwa could only share his pain , she could only silently cry for him and supplicate to Allah to make it easy for him, to grant him beautiful patience, to mend his heart. She would never be able to experience the pain he was going through, she wished she could do something to make him feel better but, there was nothing she could do , as she was not his mahram as yet, and ... how can you heal a person who lost a part of his heart ? Only Allah The Best of Healers could fill the void in his heart....

Half an hour later, Safwa walked into the house, the aroma of various Indian foods attacked her, causing her stomach to rumble in hunger. She made her way to the kitchen,  where Samiha attempted to calm her mother, who was frantically packing the washed pots and saucepans away, she stirred the food that cooked on low heat, then began taking out dishes that needed to be set on the table.

"Mummy please calm down!" , Samiha scolded, whilst cuttitng the cucumber for the salad.

"Don't tell me to be calm ! We are getting guests , the table must be set and the kitchen must be spotless !" Her mother glared at Samiha.

"Sorry !", Samiha muttered.

Safwa giggled. She walked towards her sister, grabbed a slice of cucumber and popped it into her mouth, earning a swat on her hand along with a glare.

"May I help ?" Safwa questioned , as she hopped onto the counter.

"No no ! You just stand and look pretty in your dress , while I help out on my own !", Samiha replied sarcastically.

Her mother turned around, she glared at Samiha, then narrowed her eyes at Safwa. She put her hand on her hip, waving the wooden spoon in front of her , she questioned .

"What are you doing here? I thought I told you not to come into the kitchen ! You already changed and we don't want your supposed sister in law to hug you , while you're smelling like kebabs or onions !"

Safwa giggled at her dramatic mother. "okay fine I will go change and help out " .

" no ! No need ! You already made the dessert. Your brother  will be back from the airport any minute now, along with your in laws,  you just stay out of the kitchen !". Her mother wiggled her eyebrows.

Safwa blushed. "Mummy ! They are not my in laws...."

"yet ! ", her mother finished off.

She wagged a finger infront of Safwa.
"But I'm telling you Saf ! They will be soon in Sha Allah , I have positive vibes about this !"

Samiha laughed. "Oh mummy you and your positive vibes".

"Now shoo , go away".

"Okay !" Safwa sighed and walked out.
She plopped herself on the couch , kicked off her black converse , and made herself comfortable on the couch. She closed her eyes , breathed in and out, trying to calm her nerves.

She sensed somones presence besides her, then heard a spritz , followed by the smell of perfume. She opened one eye, infront of her stood her mother , spraying perfume onto her.

"Mummyyyy ", she whined.

"I jsut wanted to make sure you don't smell like food "

Safwa shook her head.
"Mummy we have guests coming over who are non mahrams. I may not be in parda, but I don't want to wear perfume while there are non mahram men present and be likened to an immoral woman. "

Her mothers eyes widened.
"I didn't realise. Go and change."

"No need to , Mum  you sprayed a little and that also on the couch."

"Let me go and phone Shaakir and ask him how far he is." Her mother got up, but Safwa stopped her.

"No please jsut relax here, let me go and get my phone I will phone Shaakir."

Her mother nodded. She headed to her room, grabbed her phoned from the bed , then returned to the living room, plopping herself on the couch opposite her mother. The phone rang for a few moments until she heard her brother speaking in a professional voice.

" Assalaumualaykum. Shaakir Ismail, how may I help you ?"

Safwa giggled, deciding to play along she replied ," Safwa Ismail I called ..."

"Oh wow mam we have the same surname , do I know you by any chance?", he cut her off.

"No my apologies I don't know you, but I do know  my idiotic of a brother whose name also happens to be Shaakir. "

He huffed. "Why did you phone ?"

"I just wanted to know how far you guys are ?"

"Oh someone is so impat.."

"Mummy wants to know, because she wants to start warming the food !" Safwa cut him off, her cheeks colouring  due to embarrassment.

"Oh someone is so impat.."

Shaakir fell silent, once again. Khair figured out she cut him off. He smiled to himself, she was always so shy , not that it was a bad thing , it was a good thing.

He looked up , his gaze met  Shakir's in the rear view mirror. Shaakir raised his brows in question.
"Why are you smiling like a cashere cat ".

Khair immediately wiped the smile off his face, he set his lips in a thin line, holding back his smile.
"Nothing at all", he shook his head.

Khadija covered her mouth with her palm, muffling her giggles.
"*cough* so.....*cough* whipped !"

Khair narrowed his eyes at her.
"What was that ?"

"Oh nothing", she batted her lashes, feigning innocence.   

"You two I think we should make your Nikaah as soon as possible, both of you  are so impatient and he's smiling like a bafoon here ", Shaakir smirked , earning a glare from Khair.

"Ahem !", Khair's father Hussain cleared his throat , making known  his forgotten presence known.

Shaakir bit his tongue, realising Khair's father sat right beside him.
"Uh...um we are fifteen minutes away, see you in a bit".
He quickly hung up, and glared at Khair who was laughing silently , enjoying his embarrassment.

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السلام عليكم I would like to dedicate this chapter to ZammuradFor the lovely cover.

Jauhariy