Bismillah hir Rahman nir Raheem.

Trigger warning: this will ring a bell or to say in clear terms, will make you cry.

Kash key! I am there to wipe the tears away.

As you are reading this, I am sure, you are alone. Sitting in the comforts of the bed we once shared, feeling the warm breeze of the heater turned on but deep in your skin, you silently crave my warmth. My tight masculine arms to wrap you inside me, to protect you from the harsh extremes of this world, to feel my exposure and hear my heartbeats to balm your pain. Sadly, the reality in which you are breathing, I can't come to explain how painful it will be. This makes me feel so proud over you for enduring the immense pain with such strength, I want to ruffle your hair and exclaim in wonder "I love you Habibti! So much more".

I don't know why you are sticking to read my rants, writing this, I am laughing out loud because someone loves me enough to read my scribblings. Nevertheless, the next second my heart sprouts with the grains of love, sprouting with greenish stem, the leaves peeking out and letting way to the blooming buds to blossom into beautiful flowers. Shedding a few tears in the process.

I won't call them 'tears of love' because they aren't. Balke! They are of clear remorse. What ifs and if I had.

What if that happened this way.

If I had done that the other way around.

Does every one of us will feel what I feel when they stand at the end of their lives? I don't know.

Okay, *wiping the tears away* I don't want to go deep into what I feel but I have always wanted to address this with you, Habibti.

I think, Choices and Mistakes are siblings.

How?

When we make the wrong choice, mistakes happen. One is born after the other.

As I stand at the peak, I turn around to see the journey, the passage I treaded to climb the mountain of my life. Every single mistake cause a havoc to run through my heart. I warn you again Jesima, this will be intense, not the usual Aashiqui story, I am opening the bandages to look deep into the wounds. Brace your heart.

Let's jump into the flashback, where we stood outside the cafe, first time meeting each other. Please keep in mind, you were a student — an excellent at that one, who spent her nook and crook to stand at the place you stood. It wasn't easy for any Indian to scoop over the scholarship education of California University, not any other but you got it, with all your hard works and grades. You, a girl, very strongest to be precise, came to a foreign land to complete your aim, all alone.

Your parents wanted you to look into marriage, so that you may finish your studies with the shade provided by your husband but who are we kidding?marriage brought itself responsibilities. Fulfillment. It was not a bed of roses for anyone. You can't simply sit and ace the subject. You need to give all of yourself to your spouse and it needed a lot of effort, time and involvement of body and soul. Then again, did you had the maturity to balance a household and achieve gold?

You didn't. Not at that time.

I had the choice to marry you or turn the proposal down. It was my choice to give you a chance because the moment I saw you, my heart skipped a beat, and the moment you told me that your dreams are not just mere dreams rather they are the wings to wrap the Ummah with your knowledge to heal, tell me Jesima, who wouldn't fall for you?

Tell me, is that a mistake I committed by taking the choice of marrying you?

It never in any way will stop making me feel guilty though.

I saw you each day of the one year we spent away even though we tied a knot of the sacred bond of marriage. My days revolved around you, as you learned to help through your love, I step by step, learned to love — You.

To love you, the way you should be loved.

As my name translates, I excelled in this subject with flying colors. Subhanallah!

I stood perfectly in the shoes of an Aashiq. An Aashiq of You.

Your smile lightened my day, your laugh lulled my night, the flick of your hijab filled my loneliness, the speck of concentration when you immersed yourself in your books became my happiness.

It was all about you.

Finally, the day came, the blanket of the wait which wrapped us in its grasp was pulled away and the universe made the both of us meet on your graduation day.

I still remember crystal clear how I read your name and how we locked gaze from where you stood in the dark of the passageway and I, on the light of the stage.

My happiness had no bounds, I wanted to run, run down the stairs and scoop you off of your feet, hug you to no extent and kiss you like there was no tomorrow. I was screaming at my insides with sealed lips and rather, I made them stretch into a full fetched grin.

Reading this, do you realise what mistake I committed on the Prologue and the first chapter?

The moment, love started to sprinkle over my heart, I should have told you, then and there, that, I will give you time but you should also grace me with your presence once in a while. Go on dates, live the happiest time of our life. But, if I had done that, wouldn't you have fallen in love with me just like the way you did in the twelfth chapter? When you leaned onto me during the fajr Salah that we prayed in congregation, your eyes glistened as you moved away with a gasp. Those tears that lined your eyes gave away this Aashiq that those are the real " Tears of love", the first among the rivers that will flow with ferocious many.

So, back to the topic, we will be living a blessed life now but will it not turned out to be selfish? What Islam teaches us? To be selfless, right?

Your dreams were to serve this Ummah but you needed to achieve Gold to grab those standards. If I had deceived you with my selfish love, and trapped you like Shaitan, would you have accomplished what you achieved on that stage?

They applaud the husband who supports their wives to become successful but why would they point a finger at the wife, when the husband dies accidentally after she achieves her dreams? Did she do any wrong?

In the same way, I console myself that what I did was right. What you did was right. What we both did was right. So that the perfect example is set for the readers.

I won't do justice to put forth in mere words how my heart jumped up when I answered in affirmative, when I agreed to give you time, the smile that you lit with caused havoc inside me. I promised myself that I will lay the world in your fingertips to see that smile each and every second of my life and did you know, I acted upon that promise. Even though you didn't knew I was the behind so many incidents, I was. Like I confronted about that one case where I donated money to do the operation of a blind girl, I did so many that now when I come to think about them, I don't remember what I did but I never will forget that smile that stretched through your lips. Gosh! How I will Qurbaan (Sacrifice) my entire life to see that smile on a daily basis.

Now, let's come to the second chapter, where I lied. I am sorry, I told you that I am no Victor Krum, I am not going to leave you as he did. But, I left you as he did. Again, I chose to commit mistakes.

In the third chapter, when you slept on the couch, I whisked you in my arms and wanted to kidnap you to my room. I should have gone with that choice. That way, we would have settled with each other, soon.

I think I shouldn't have played the prank of the duplicate plane ticket in the fourth chapter and rather should have sat with you, gazing at the stars and decided on the destination where we should go trekking, together.

In the fifth chapter, when you leaned into me to protect you from the wolves, I should have closed the distance that kept us apart even though we were lying beside each other. How different would have been the future if that had happened?

Sixth, seventh, eighth, and ninth, with these numbers the chapters rolled by and we lived in the obviousness of the future that awaited us. Keeping all this aside, will you wish to have a whole life with me beside you to bargain with what we had?

How pure our relationship was, Habibti. I never would wish to do that. Given a specific amount of time. We shared a magical bond.

We are the example. Due to one specific reason. We lived a life following the footsteps of our beloved Prophet. Our marriage was the exact version of marriage couples should follow because we started the inauguration of the ceremonies of each of our steps with the foundation of one of the best love stories this world has ever seen. Prophet Muhammad (Peace be upon him) and Aisha (Radhiallahu Anha)'s.

Alhamdulilah! Whatever golden we had. It's all His glory.

In the ninth chapter, do you remember what I told you when you witnessed three deaths in front of your eyes? Wait, let me quote - "It's the first death amongst the thousands deaths you will see with your own eyes because that way, you would teach the thousands of people who would be grieving for losing their loved ones, how to live their life without them by their side".

Subhanallah! Not even in my nightmare, I imagined that the death of me would be the next.

Habibti! Even though I am gone, my love for you did not. Never will. In the confines of my grave, not a day would pass without me, missing you. Like the way you will miss me living in our home.

By missing me, I am sorry for the last mistake I committed. I didn't got the treatment of the disease I suffered with. Now, now I am not gonna talk about how my inception turned true. How, when you read this, I will be lying six feet under the ground. Instead, I will tell you why.

I listened Habibti! You didn't. I listened. That day, remember when we first sat in front of the doctor who disclosed to us about Glioblastoma. I stormed out but I couldn't go far away before hearing if I had a single chance. A flicker of the candle to keep it safe from extinguishing. Sadly, when I came and stood beside the door, my eyes fell over you and the lost expression in your face. How you dived into a different realm of thoughts and forgot to listen what the doctor way saying. I heard what he said. He said that the tumor was at the peak, all the damage was already done, spread to the extent that it will be difficult to control, I had no TIME. There was no HOPE. There was no other OPTION. Yes, we can treat, give high doses of medications but- the patient should handle the pain along with the side effects of the medicines. Its okay! I will be okay to take those meds in but- they will be still not sure how my body will cope, how it will accept, how long it will fight?

Habibti! I sucked in my breathing then and there. The doctor claimed to know you as a fellow colleague, so he disclosed all the cons than the few pros. Sadly, I heard all of it. I shouldn't have chosen to return back to the door, right?

That way, maybe I would have chose to do the treatments. But, who are we kidding? I was gone too long to be sucked out. Khair! It was all Qadr Allah.

The cancer treatments are never easy, the one month time I had been in the Hospital, I knew without they telling me that you people tried but did something happen? Did the change arise? 

That's why when you people were busy preparing to make me live, I started preparing for my death. For starters, asking forgiveness from all my sins, rushing to finish the important things I needed to fulfill, writing these letters so it may be useful, at least this is a way to make my words live with you if not me.

Believe me when I say no matter how harsh this storm is on us, This Habibti, is a temporary separation.

As I say this, I imagine all the things you will go through your life when I won't be there to share your other side. I am thinking about what you will be doing? How hard will be the push? How much time it will take to cope up? Literally, Everything.

You are supposed to be in a period called - Iddath. Where you grieve for me for four months and ten days. Habibti! When grieving my loss, do remember how we dwelled our days. What we did most of the time? What we did the most with each other's company?

We worshipped Allah, Jaani.

I know, it's is so hard for you. For my sake, if you worshipped Him by praying five times a day, extend your cycle. Extend your hours, open up to Him, talk with him, wail to Him about how severely it pains and read His book with clear understanding. There are so many online sites that teach you the Tafseer. Give your intellectual heed to it. Understand word by word. Those four months, you are ought to stay at home. Put a determination to finish the task. Jesima, remember how you achieve what you want to if you put your determination. Put that same determination.

I assure you, with each verse, you will open up, each letter will act as the medicine to the wounds of your soul.

The Prophet says that we are rewarded with thirty good deeds for each letter of the Quran. For Alif laam meem, you get 10 for Alif, 10 for laam, 10 for meem. Now, looking at them, we don't know their meaning, we don't know what Alif, laam, meem stands for except He, the exalted, but we are rewarded with thirty good deeds, simply for the words we don't understand. Now, ponder how much will we be rewarded if we clearly understand the meanings and start implementing them in our life.

If you do that, I assure you, the grieving period will turn into the best part of your life. Just like the way you confessed to me that the days spent with me were your best.

The floor laid scattered with boxes, notebooks, journals, and fliers, as you move forward you can see the view of the bed littered with all of his shirts, pants, tees, ties, and coats, in the middle of them all, laid a lady whose ocean waves of brown hair fell all over the place, her eyes were red-rimmed, dark circles painted over their niche, a pink blush colored her nose, her lips parched and dry. Her body moved up and down, raised and fell in swift moments as her hoarse breathing continued to explore through her body, with the remnants of her chaotic heartbeats.

If someone keenly listened, her breathing came with a mixture of hiccups, ever so slightly. The sound mirroring the melody of a kid who cried several hours for not getting a candy he asked her parents to buy, the voice poignant. Ragged.

43,800 minutes had succumbed her soul, she had cried 730 hours of pain, in easy words, 1 month of tribulation. She had a life to live but not her beloved in it. Not her anchor. She felt like a body that lacked a soul, a cloud without water, a tree without leaves, an ocean without water, earth without sun, a universe without stars.

Each second wrenched her soul in agony, she was going crazy in her own skin, only one thought devastated her. He is not going to return. How could she ever get used to it?

Without her permission, her orbs leaked tears, without her approval her heart was put on a pot filled with oil, each stroke of flame, burned her. So much so that her brain cells stopped functioning with sanity. She crossed all the boundaries of insane acts, from putting his shirts as pillow covers to filling the room with his articles. Nook and crook. Anything that would bring her his warmth. She felt like she was deprived of the shelter of the house and nakedly swarmed to suffer in the snow.

Sleep had run out of the window, peace had broken her relationship with her, chaos knocked on her door, a mess of her own tragedies swooped her into its lap. Yes, she was breathing but in a different realm, she was not.

Her parents, her husband claimed her to be kind. Not because she behaved like that with them. She liked to joke around, be hilarious, be unique but she always treated her family, friends, colleagues, and even strangers with kindness.

Her journey began on the road to be kind was way back, in the blossoming days of her school life where her parents simply opened a school for her to study. She was blessed. Surely, she was. Stylish bag, new shoes, colorful pencils, aromatic erasers, different shaped sharpeners, unique scales, rich covered notebooks. She had it all. But, to her parent's dismay, every day she came with a missing belonging. They were not focused at first but as the cases of robbery increased, they became worried and started to keep tabs on her things. However one day they found their daughter secretly placing a bunch of her pencils in a classmate's bag and when asked, she had said in an innocent pout " Mamma! He had no pencil".

Though her life was blessed, not a day went without her feeling grateful and, helping others with the things she had. So many times, she would lend her books to the ones who found it hard to buy them on their own. Helping others made her feel not guilty for having extra blessings. She was this girl, who feared that Allah will not like her if she took everything which was given to her for granted.

Though she was high-class, she never let the 'class' control her bias of thoughts. In front of Allah, all are the same and she believed it to the extent of her core.

That was also a reason why she chose to help the Palestinians. That's why she was so passive with the idea of marriage. Because, as far as marriage is encouraged in Islam, for the dreams she held as a girl,  it will be difficult to implement. As for now, there was indeed a hospital to be built. Procedures were going on. Her husband had given his full to complete her desires but she was not even close to the situation to go there. Live the realities of what she dreamt.

Scorching in her agony, she lay there, letting slumber kidnap for sometime at least her from the realities which felt far worse to portray in simple words.

Her days went by sulking in a corner of their room, trying to shake of the thought that Aashiq was no more. Loneliness soothed her to go into depression and scalding discomfort balmed her body until she came across the latest letter, unconditional choked up sobs left her mouth as she ran into her bookshelf, opening the Quran, tears brimming her eyes, heart escalating to its peak, with trembling fingers she held the book open and that's how she felt peace after so many agonizing moments. That's how sleep wrapped a blanket over her. That's how the verses of her Creator acted as a marham on her wounds. That's how she fell asleep after thriving in forever tribulations.

Finally, that is how exactly she felt calm after the storm.

....

"Alhamdulillah! I accept".

" Alhamdulillah! I accept".

"Alhamdulillah! I accept her with all of my heart", Ahmed said in the microphone making Samra's heart stop its beatings to jolt up and down in joy. She squeezed a grin through her happy tear-stained face.

" Finally! Mubarak", Rafa squealed as she took Samra in her arms. Engulfing into a hug filled with fireworks making Samra break into a fit of sobs. Ultimately, she was married nkw.. Not in her life, she dreamt about this day. She was not the type of girl who knitted fairy tale weddings. Signing the terms and conditions form of being a victim in her mind, she never thought that someday, she will tear the sheet of paper that credited her worst nightmares into a puddle and open the cage of the bird of her heart. This was the first time, her heart stepped out of its prison. Free.

Letting the wings swap, purr, and fly.

"I am so happy for you", It was her mother who cried with the same intensity as her, wrapping her arms around Samra and having a breakdown then and there. The boat of life had pushed them down, to muggle in the deep waters of the ocean, and somehow, at last, after so many hardships, the mother and the daughter duo, found their shore. SubhanAllah! Allah worked in wonders. Magic to be precise.

All it took was for him to utter be and it is. Kun faya kun.

Not to forget, the stronger the faith, the harshest the trial, and at whose end is rainbows and glitter. Blessings and Happiness. Surely, with hardship is ease.

Dressed in her mother's wedding dress, a light blue ghagra of pearly white elegant rhinestones, she looked anything less than a pari (angel) . The net dupatta was a light onion-colored soft material with a lace of the designer suit she wore, she matched her Hijab and Niqab with it.

As the Nikah took place in the masjid with minimal guests, she was merrily sat at the cultural hall that came within the campus, where the females had a wailed separate portion. Samra was primarily at the one single room they had offered to get ready. Rafa once again immersed herself doing the touch-ups claiming to be Samra's, make-up lady for the occasion.

Eyes glinting with mirth, she settled the kohl to fit in place with the stroke on her eyelid, making Samra sit with closed eyes. Until the stroke dried, she started wrapping the Hijab around Samra's head, pinning with delicately designed hijab pins. She was about to tie her niqab when a hand stopped her from doing the task. She looked in time to glance at Samra who opened her eyes. The black stroke completely soaked into her skin.

Rafa quirked an eyebrow. " Ahmed might come and visit you anytime".

" I know".

"Then?", Rafa pointed towards the veil.

" I don't want to wear this today", Samra fixed her gaze on the veil, her safe haven which rested on Rafa's palms.

"Samra, just because you are married to him now doesn't mean you have to hurry. You can take all the time you want —".

" I don't want to".

"Ahmed specifically asked me not to push you on anything. He understands you, Samra".

" He already melted all my heart, I think I should freeze before it flows into a river of love".

Rafa laughed. "Are you serious?".

" Don't scare me when I am trying my best to— ",

"That's what I am saying, Samra. Don't try. Let things happen on their own accord —",

" Habibti! When I took this choice to marry him, I battled my fear. I won over it. I don't want to again give my fear the control to remote me".

Rafa's eyes glinted with warmth and she felt so proud and happy for her friend sincerely from the bottom of her heart. She softly kissed Samra's forehead, careful not to smudge her lipstick stain over her dust-colored skin.

A knock on the door caused her to wipe her eyes, a quick nod of acknowledgment, she clasped Samra's palm and pressed in assurance before walking up to the door to open it.

Rafa grinned at the sight of her brother-like figure, her happiness knowing no bounds, no words to describe how happy she felt to see them finally patched up. Cladded in a light blue, Salwar suite, he looked dashing as ever. The blue dress mirroring the color of his eyes. His face glittering for living a moment which he only dreamt thousand plus times all through his life.

"Be gentle", Rafa warned earning an eye roll as a reply. Ahmed moved aside to give her space to walk out. Closing the door with slightly trembling hands, Ahmed turned around to walk towards his wife.

Just how many times had he prayed to Allah to grant her the position to be claimed as his. How many Tahajjud prayers and how many tears were shed to turn her heart towards his?

Alhamdulillah! For Allah proved that he never lets the hands of his slaves empty.

He walked towards Samra, his heartbeats thundering, his vision fixed on her back and he mentally rehearsed the dua, he should be reading, placing his hand over her head. When he reached her front did he double-take, his feet deceived him in no instance, within a blink of an eye, he slipped on the floor, the ground held him as he sat, frozen.

Eyes locked on her face.

When did I turn this lucky?

***

Woah!

Finally, Ah-sam is married.
*balls my eyes out*

Did you love the chapter?

I am sorry, this story has some more to be written and the epilogue is shoved away for now.

Your thoughts, please? What do you think will happen now?