Bismillah hir Rahman nir Raheem.

"When any one of you prays, let him start by praising Allah, then let him send blessings upon the Prophet (Pbuh), then let him say du'aa' however he wishes."

Al-Tirmidhi said: (it is) a saheeh hadeeth. It was also classed as saheeh by al-Haakim, and al-Dhahabi agreed with him. Zaad al-Ma'aad, 1/257, 258.

...

"Subhanallahi wa bihamdihi, Subhanallahil azeem. Allahumma salli wa sallim ala nabiyyeena Muhammad.

"Ya Allah, Ya Rahman(The Most Merciful), I am a sinner who sins knowingly and unknowingly but you are the Most Merciful, you are Ar Raheem(The Bestower of Mercy). You like to forgive sins and you like those who turn towards you in repentance. You are At-Thawab, the Sole Accepter of repentance. Ya Rabb, Forgive me of my sins.

"Today, in your court of justice, I appeal for an issue. Ya Allah, Ya Haqq(The Absolute Truth), each passing day, it is getting harder and harder. I don't know why my parents named me Aashiq of all the names that exist in this world. People believe me to be extraordinary, intellectual, and rich but none knows the reality of me, except You.

"You know the person I am deep within under all these layers that cover me. You are aware of the flaws of mine that you've kept hidden. You know the real me. You know me more than my ummi and abbi. You know me more than I know myself. Aashiq, a lover. I love a little too much, and I feel a little too deeply. It scares me, Ya Allah.

"They think it was all handed to me on a silver platter. You and I know it wasn't. Like my name translates, my love is extraordinary. I buried myself in books because they lit up my soul. Since my childhood, whatever was introduced to me was loved by me a little more than everyone else.

"In Grade school and College, the desire to reconstruct the world took home in my heart. I fell in love with architecture then on and succeeded in my efforts to a point that now, today, my name is beheld as one of the top ten architects in the world. My companies are like the lamps in the sky, lighting up the expanse of the world. I am not proud of myself, Ya Allah. Whatever I am, it is Your Mercy.

"Finally, I come to the subject of my plea. Jesima. Ya Allah, I am scared because my love for her has reached heights I have never before had the courage to climb. My love for her has made me forget the love of anything else in this world. My job, my career, my own self-it is all feeble to me now. Ya Allah, nothing, and no one matters to me more than her.

"Yesterday, it was all splendid but I can not fathom why it ended the way it did. I trust you with my Qadr. Alhamdulilah, whatever happens, happens for the best. But I won't deny it didn't hurt me. Ya Rabb, my heart ached at seeing her in agony and it killed me upon a painful realization-I was the one who hurt her.

"Each day is a new lesson to learn for me. I am learning to be gentle and caring because I am aware of the person she has kept in wraps, not the person she has displayed to the rest of the world. The exterior she sports before her friends, her family, and sometimes even her self is not the girl I have fallen in love with so relentlessly. She is nothing but fragile-made of glass, ready to shatter at the slightest touch, the slightest push. Kindness lurks in her shadow. She sees no other way to save this world except by drowning herself in its depths.

"Today, I ask you, Ya Wadood-the Most Loving for my love to be nothing but a breath of fresh air for her. I can't see her in pain, whether it be of any kind. Ya Allah, I could not bear it when a pin pierced her skin, how am I to see her go through an agony any greater than that?"

"Ya Rabb if you Will to inflict us with hardship, choose me over her. I can't see her in pain and I don't believe I have it in me to ever do so. Please, Ya Allah, you are the most Gentle and Caring with your beloved servants. Please be gentle with her. Give me the strength to face her challenges, and help me heal her heart."

Aashiq repeated the du'a he had whispered at the beginning of his supplication, thereafter putting his hands back on his lap after wiping away a tear that had stubbornly escaped. Only his Rabb knew how much he had meant each syllable that had been uttered by him that instance.

Even though he had muddled their magical moment the day before, his heart was at peace because Jesima hadn't let the spark of hope in him die completely. Her moist eyes were proof that she felt the same sentiments he did, and Only Allah knew how inwardly grateful he was for it. The last thing he ever wanted was for her to develop a dislike towards him.

But he was the Aashiq of their love story, wasn't he?

In the end, he most definitely would be the one bearing the anguish and not the other way around. Gratefulness surged through his heart then, for he didn't think he had it in him to see his love suffer-that is just the way he was.

The lover who gave out love to the world, a love whose depths couldn't be beheld even in a hundred pages. The love which could only be sparked in the air around him.

He was a human being, after all, molded out of the earth. Even the finest of earthen pots could not withstand a break, then again what was he?

...

Aashiq nodded to the old man and watched as he walked through the doors of the Masjid. After a few minutes of contemplating over the wordings of the Quran, he closed the book and hugged it to his chest, a wave of tranquility washed over his soul.

Aashiq would release all of his worries from their bounds in the form of du'a, and then recite the Quran till no ends, his heart finding it's solace within the cage of the words of his Creator. He looked up, pausing his recitation to the old man who neared him.

The Fajr congregation had dispersed long back except for a few who stayed behind, including Aashiq. Comfortable with remaining seated a while longer, he allowed his wounds to bleed freely, asking for his Creator to heal them. It was only later that he'd apply the balm to soothe his pain-the beautiful calligraphy of the Book of Allah.

The old man signaled for him to turn off the lights before his departure from the Masjid as Aashiq was seated there even after most of the congregation had left for home.

Aashiq nodded in agreement and saw the old man exit the premises of the Masjid doors. He kissed the book with a smile hovering over his lips.

He had all the verses memorized by heart since his childhood days. But the peace he felt in discovering the meanings behind these words, pondering over their underlying depths, plus the consolation his Rabb's words would bestow the reader with, the strength they'd instigate-Aashiq marveled at it all.

He placed the book back on one of the many shelves, preparing for his leave. He was switching off the lights and was about to close the door when his gaze landed on a figure seated in one of the corners of the Masjid.

If Aashiq hadn't been paying attention, he surely would have missed the man who was sitting in the farthest corner in the spacious praying area, partially because of the shadows that lurked over him due to the darkness that encompassed the Masjid's indoors when Aashiq switched off the lights.

Aashiq's eyes grazed over the man who was lurking in the back, seated hugging his knees, his head rested over his knee joints.

Aashiq jogged towards him. Aashiq patted his back lightly, a move on his part to catch this man's attention. However, when the man's gaze met his, Aashiq familiarized himself with those features, his eyes widening in the process.

"Ahmed."

"Aashiq." Ahmed acknowledged, surprised. "How are you?"

Aashiq smiled down at his brother in Islam and also a dear friend of his wife. "Assalamu alaikum. Alhamdulillah."

Ahmed quietly returned the salaam.

"I am not going to ask you how you're doing," Aashiq continued. "Because your sadness is written all over your face."

Ahmed's blue eyes sparkled at the sudden confession from Aashiq. "Is it that obvious?" He chuckled nervously.

"Yeah! It is." Aashiq took a seat beside Ahmed, facing him completely. Dull rays of the rising sun had started to gracefully peek through the windows.

"Then guess what it is?"

"Heartbreak," Aashiq replied, meeting Ahmed's eyes.

Ahmed fell silent, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration.

"Your Luna is giving you hard time, I see," Aashiq spoke after a while.

"You can't even imagine how hard it is."

Aashiq put his hand over Ahmed's lap. "I know how you feel, Ahmed," he whispered.

"I have always wondered where you were, Aashiq. You claim to be Jesima's husband but you've always been MIA in all her life until graduation. Where were you?"

"I have been here all this time."

"Why didn't we meet you then?"

"Because of Jesima," Aashiq replied. "She wanted to keep our relationship under wraps because she had a dream of achieving that gold medal without... without any distractions."

"Seriously?" Ahmed questioned, to which he earned a nod in reply.

Aashiq had shared that piece of information with Ahmed because deep down, he aimed to lighten the burden that weighed down on Ahmed for too long a time now. Aashiq had been, after all, in the same shoes that Ahmed now sported-those of the heartbroken.

"I don't want to pry but did you keep herself low even with yourself? It's okay if you don't want to confide in me."

"Yes, Ahmed." Aashiq locked gaze with him. "For more than a year, we didn't even have a proper conversation. Though it doesn't mean in any way to put all the blame upon my wife because I was the one who cut off the rope that binded her to give her the freedom to let her wings open and fly high above the sky."

Ahmed tore his gaze away, looking down.

"And also," Aashiq continued. "It doesn't mean I didn't fall in love with her during that period."

"It must have been hard for you," Ahmed murmured to himself, his voice barely audible.

"Yes, it was but Alhamdulilah, we share such a heartwarming bond now. With patience comes ease and the fruit of patience is indeed very sweet."

They fell in comfortable silence, pondering over the sentiments of reality.

Life would never be easy but everything happens for a reason.

If one is broken beyond repair, it might be only so he can heal, seal those cracks with lessons learned, and learn how to get through life. The irony is the believers-who have faith-are broken in ways that can't be mended unless they get to Jannah where an eternity of happiness awaits them. The disbelievers, however, are given the enjoyments of delusion, their eyes blind to the false perceptions of this world.

"You don't seem like yourself," Aashiq pointed out.

Ahmed sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know what Samra's problem is. I've made my feelings known from the very start but she didn't even bat an eyelash at me. Since she's a practicing Muslim, I thought she'd like to go about this in a halal way and I wanted to handle this in a way that would please Allah. That's how I ended up at her doorstep, asking her mother for her hand in marriage."

"That's a good step. What happened after?"

"She rejected me on my face," Ahmed spoke as he met Aashiq's gaze. His blue eyes didn't behold even a hint of ego but the pain of denial. "I'm not trying to cajole her into marrying me. It's all her choice but when I resigned from my job, she ran towards me. That's when I felt conflicted. Her eyes, Aashiq," Ahmed choked on his words. "Something glinted in them. I don't know how I've concluded that they were teary more because of regret rather than guilt."

Aashiq took his time to come up with an answer and Ahmed was grateful for it. His breaths came out in hurried puffs of air and his heart was racing like a horse. His blue eyes were coated with the torments his heart was undergoing.

"From what I have seen of Samra, she isn't someone who would act on impulse or project immaturity in her decisions. I can understand how unbearable this pain is for you, Ahmed. The pain of baseless rejection stings far worse than any venomous poison in this world.

"From my personal experience with women," Aashiq continued. "What I have learnt is to give them time, which is what they need the most. If you leave them to settle their affairs and give them their own space, eventually they will come around. In the end, everything you ever wished for will take the form of reality and you'll see their most beautiful self that'll only be for you and no one else."

Ahmed was not in a state to string together words in reply but felt all his confusions subside. He knew what he was to do. Samra was the only one with full ownership of his heart and soul and Ahmed couldn't even think about handing it over to anyone else.

From what he went through the other day, there was one thing he had understood. Even though her very being screamed her dislike for him, her eyes were lined with a turmoil that proved the opposite. Her wet waterline had him knowing that he would be missed dearly and there wouldn't be anyone up to his mark.

If he waited enough for her to open up as Aashiq had suggested, there would come a time where the sea would meet the sky, and he would be united with the one he loved. In shaa Allah.

Ahmed followed Aashiq out of the Masjid doors after switching off all the lights and air conditioners. Aashiq pulled his shoes over his sock-covered feet, lacing the shoe ties.

"I was just wondering. What made you fall for Samra in the first place?"

That's when Aashiq noticed a small smile hovering over Ahmed's lips.

"Though we have a lot of differences, the similarities are what pushed me towards her."

Ahmed's life hadn't been an easygoing ride-his mother passed away giving birth to him and he was nurtured unwillingly by his stepmother, who wasn't at all pleased with his presence in her home.

And when Ahmed reached puberty, he moved out. He lived the rest of his life in dorm rooms and on street benches, with the small amount of money his father would give him. He studied hard for the one aim
of his life-to be a doctor who saved the lives of the woman giving birth, so the child wouldn't have to go through the agony of the life of an orphan like he did.

He achieved this aim with his hard work and when he thought he had achieved what he had aimed for and applied for post-graduation in his field, Samra walked into his life. She was not a flower visible for masses to see, she was a pearl secured in an oyster of Abaya and niqab that shielded her being from the eyes of the rest of the world. She was the one face not apparent in crowds and she had an entirely different persona of her own. If he wasn't partnered up with her in study work, he doubted he would ever be able to see her in person.

Ahmed shook his head, snapping out of the flashbacks of the times he spent drowned in projects, doubts, and group studies. The way Samra's eyes would twinkle ever so subtly when she smiled, the way her hijab would flap with the wind when they would be studying outdoors, the humbleness in her gait, how the colors of her niqab would contrast her dust-colored skin, how her irises held the whole world in them, he would miss everything.

And at last, he would miss her.

.....

"Like what you see?" Aashiq got off the treadmill, holding the towel hanging over the holder, wiping his sweaty face with it.

"How did you know I was standing here?"

Aashiq turned away from her, a lopsided grin making its way to his face, the dimples visible in his cheeks.

"Through this." He pointed towards the mirror through which her full posture was visible.

Jesima bit her bottom lip upon being caught in the act of staring at him. She had half a mind to place the mug of morning coffee she held in her hand down, and then facepalm herself for acting dumb.

Instead, she walked to the gym of their house, not wavering in her pride and dignity even though it had gotten stomped on just a moment before. She was fierce-someone whose roots were deep enough to withstand any storm coming her way.

Aashiq removed his loose sleeveless t-shirt, sticky with sweat, and placed it next to the towel.

Sipping her hot coffee carelessly made Jesima end up burning her tongue, all the while her mind was so hazy that she couldn't comprehend whose hotness had burnt her-Aashiq's or the coffee's?

Aashiq got down onto the gym floor and fell into an elaborate round of push-ups.

If I get this view daily with my coffee, neither my tongue nor my body would be able to take this hotness.

Jesima blushed but her eyes didn't flicker from the sight of her exercising husband.

"I don't know why you guys are so keen on maintaining your body," Jesima randomly stated.

Aashiq paused his workout, immediately causing regret to bubble up in Jesima's chest for even opening her mouth because pausing in the middle caused Aashiq's protruding muscles to release their stress. She liked them more when they were stretching and pulling.

"You don't know?"

She shook her head in reply, already wishing for him to continue his workout for the view of him working out-and that too shirtless-was fantastic.

"It's simple. I read online that girls like men with abs, six-packs more than the men who don't exercise. That, and if you wish your spouse to possess a certain character or attribute, you should first acquire it yourself for they might also wish to see it in you. Hence I started working out with the belief that maybe my future wife would like me more if I perfected my body."

"Oh my! That means I should have stopped eating, breathing, and studying for my future husband."

Aashiq quirked his eyes at her and she started laughing. She put the mug in one of the chairs and kneeled beside him.

"You look cute." Jesima pinched his cheeks without thinking.

"I perfected my body just to hear you call me cute? Really?" he pouted, sitting up.

Jesima laughed again and this time, Aashiq couldn't suppress his smile. He mimicked her action by pinching her cheeks. "You look cuter."

Jesima's cheeks hued pink in a pretty blush, her lips stretched into a wide smile. At that moment, her existence was filled with nothing but joy.

"What's the use of working out then? Can't I just stare at you my whole life?" She folded her hands over her chest.

"Hmm, there are a lot of things you can do." Aashiq winked making her go even more red than she already was. "But for now, you can test my strength."

"And how do I do that?" she slowly whispered.

"Sit on my back while I continue my pushups."

She grinned from ear to ear, getting on her feet. Like a kid, she ran towards her mug of coffee and within a second she was back. "Really?"

Aashiq nodded and laid down on the floor, his back facing her. She hesitated for a moment but soon her excitement got the best of her. She lowered herself cross-legged on the crook of his backbone, above his hip, on the back of his stomach.

"Ready?" Aashiq questioned.

"More than ready."

He started by slowly putting all the weight on his palms and then continued his stance.

Jesima visibly gulped at the sight of contracting muscles over his back and how his skin shined under all the sweat. She was surprised her weight over him hadn't made his strength waver in the least.

She then started sipping on her coffee, feeling ecstatic. For the first time in her life, Jesima felt something she could not describe in coherent words.

Her heart bubbled up with joy.

Jesima was floating amongst clouds, her eyes sparkling at the sight of moons and stars. In reality, however, she was floating over Aashiq.

Aashiq-the same someone whose name was written next to hers fifty thousand years back, the same someone from whose backbone she was made, the same someone who stood beside her when she faced her Rabb with all the humans that were created. He was who she was married to, he rented her heart and claimed her soul and he had made her into the person she was. He loved her with all her flaws, he would no matter whatever give up on her, and he was the guy she would be willing to live this life and the hereafter with.

He was Aashiq.

And he was hers.

***

"I m p o r t a n t"

I have started republishing Shabna and Maahi's story with a new name called 'Train to Love', Shower me some love there.

To the readers who already have finished the book, I assure you this one is almost grammatical errors free and slightly a new version of the old one.

And, coming to our Aashiqui here, I am never going to stop writing this book for any reason, so no worries. I am not sure about giving a specific time about updates so you can expect them anytime.

..

How was the chapter?

Your thoughts please.