Chapter Twenty-six

"Bhai, please. I'll only take a second."

"I have the misfortune of knowing how long your seconds actually are."

"Please na!" Amal pleaded. "Okay, if you don't want to go, at least lend me your car-" She stopped short when she noticed the expression on Usman's face.

Okay, no, there was no way Usman was going to lend her his car.

Deciding on a different strategy, Amal blinked innocently, "I'll do something for you as well-"

"Like what? Sleep an extra hour?"

Amal's eyes narrowed, but Usman remained unaffected. She so badly wanted to comment on how Usman could sleep anywhere, anytime, but bit back her words.

Spotting her mother walking out of the room, Amal jumped at the chance. "Mama! Bhai isn't taking me to the masjid and he won't even lend me his car!"

Sana barely even glanced at the two of them. "My children are both married and can not even solve their problems on their own. Tut-tut," she shook her head, busy with her own thoughts as she took out the book she was looking for from the shelf and walked back in.

Amal blinked, turning back to Usman was who was smirking victoriously.

"Your only sister," she tried a completely different strategy now, lowering her voice and dramatically placing a hand over her heart. "Your only sister is married now. Your akloti chotti behen comes back home once in a while and you can't even do her the simple favor of driving her to the masjid?"

Usman smiled sweetly. "That's what I thought too, that my akloti chotti behen is going to Lahore now and I won't see her as much, but when you visited us a week after your wedding, I knew that being in Lahore was going to be no barrier for you."

This was hopeless. Amal groaned mentally, wondering if she should just give up and wait till her father came home and let her borrow his car when a sudden idea clicked in her mind. She leaned forward, her eyes glinting mischievously. "Khala promised me that she'll make brownies for me this Friday-"

At the mention of brownies, Usman's gaze snapped towards Amal. "And I'll let you have one if you drive me to the masjid."

Now, she had his attention. He finally put his phone down and straightened up.

"Two."

"One," Amal said again, her voice firm.

Usman tilted his head. "Three."

"Wait- no-"

"Three," Usman said again.

"Okay, I'll make it two-"

"Three-"

"Two," Amal declared, leaning back again, "Take it or leave it."

Usman's eyes narrowed, and when Amal shrugged, he gave in- getting up from the sofa and grabbing his car keys.

Amal grinned triumphantly, running after Usman.

Imam Murtaza had done as he had promised and Amal's article had been published under the name of the masjid magazine. Now, as Amal made her way inside the building- leaving Usman in the car, she noticed a few people holding the printed article.

It took her all of her strength to stop herself from walking over to them and asking them what they thought about the article.

Nobody knows it's you, let's be cool about it-

As soon as Amal spotted the first woman with the article- all of her coolness vanished and she could not help but inquire whether the woman liked the article or not.

"I haven't read it yet."

"Oh." The disappointment was evident in her voice and when the other woman looked at her weirdly, Amal cleared her throat, forcing a smile on her face. "I mean- happy reading!"

As soon as she had walked away, the smile dropped off her face. Happy reading? Shaking her head, she continued to make her way towards the inner office.

Soon enough, Amal was smiling again. She spotted the pile of the printed sheets, and as she grabbed about ten or so, her eyes fell on an envelope placed next to the pile.

At first, Amal was about to look away again- but then she noticed something strange. Her name was written on the envelope in bold and at the corner, she spotted another name.

Asma.

Amal's heartbeat sped up. She looked around- as if expecting to see someone there, but there was not a soul in sight. With a sharp intake of breath, she picked up the envelope and was about to open the seal when she paused. She stared at the envelope for a while, and then, tucking it in her abaya pocket, grabbed the printed sheets, and walked out.

It was an hour later when Amal had gotten home and showed her family her article- that she got the time to retreat to her room. It was then that she took out the envelope again, and with a slight tremor in her hands, opened it.

Two pages fell out, filled with Asma's scrawny handwriting. Amal felt her heart drumming wildly, but she mustered up her strength and started reading.

There are so many things I want to say to you; words that have crossed my brain countless times, and yet, when I finally build the courage to pick up a pen... I do not know how to start.

Perhaps because I do not think myself worthy of saying this to you, or perhaps because even if I try... no words would be able to convey the depths of my emotions.

Regret.

Oh what I would give to go back to the time when we were kids- and when a simple, "I'm sorry," would suffice.

I am sorry.

Even as I write it now, the words feel dry. How can I ever ask you for forgiveness for the things I have done to you when even I am unable to forgive myself?

So no, this letter is not a letter of apology, for I do not deserve your forgiveness, but in the helplessness that grows over my heart- I beg of you to hear me out.

Oh, Amal, I have done you wrong. I have done you so terribly wrong- I cannot even express it. But I have done so many other people wrong too... my mother- who I never gave a chance to explain herself, my siblings- who I ignored when they needed their aapi more than ever, and perhaps... perhaps even myself.

I always blamed people. I blamed my mother for destroying our family. I blamed you- even though I knew that you could never have revealed my secret. But worst of all, Amal... I blamed Allah.

I blamed Him.

Why me? Why must this happen to my family when all my life I had always tried to stay away from major sins?

I started to lose faith. After that, it was a dark road. I lost myself, my happiness... when you lose faith, Amal, you lose everything.

And I lost it.

I lost everything I ever had, till I would stare at my reflection and see someone I did not recognize. I have committed sins that are far too great to be spoken of... one after the other, I sinned continuously.

The path of sins is dark, but your soul always knows. You try to make excuses for yourself but your soul always knows that this is wrong.

At times, I would want to stop. I would wish to stop, but repentance never came easy to me. What face- I would think- would I show my Creator after all that I had sinned.

And when you are too ashamed to ask for forgiveness, you continue. You begin to think that your sins are far too great for you to be forgiven and so, you continue to sin.

As I fell deeper and deeper into the darkness, I began to hate myself. I cannot describe how I felt, but- but it was almost as if my soul was begging to get out of this body. It would thrash and fill with disgust and all I wanted was escape... escape from myself.

You must be wondering why I am writing this to you. No, I am not trying to justify my actions. Neither am I asking you for your sympathy. To be honest, I myself have no idea why I am writing to you- perhaps because I have no one else to talk to or perhaps because I want to thank you.

When you stood up for me, it did something to my heart. After what seemed like years, my heart was pricked by your actions. While I traveled this road of darkness, you, Amal, learned how to raise your voice. While I became someone I began to hate, you only became stronger.

My heart was touched, but I was too much of a coward to talk to you. That day, I went inside the masjid.

Despite my continuous sins, I had continued to volunteer at the masjid. Perhaps because I was craving for a place where my heart could be at rest. But instead of making me feel better, it only made me feel like a hypocrite.

That day, when I walked into the masjid again- I had no idea why I did it. I do not know what was in my head. But I walked in. It was after Maghrib so there was not a soul inside. I walked into the praying area, and for a while, I simply just sat down, not doing anything.

I was afraid. I felt restless and scared, but I do not know what kept me from walking away like I so badly wanted to. Something came over me, and I found myself picking up the nearest Quran.

My hands trembled. My heart grew weak, and yet, with all of the courage I had, I opened it up randomly.

The first verse, Amal. The very first verse that came up was this:

"O My servants who have transgressed against themselves [by sinning], do not despair of the mercy of Allah. Indeed, Allah forgives all sins. Indeed, it is He who is the Forgiving, the Merciful." [39: 53]

It was as if there had been a thorn in my heart all along and somebody had suddenly pulled it out. I began to cry as I have never cried before. My whole nature opened before My Rabb, I cried till I could no longer cry.

That day, Amal, I saw the light, and it was blinding.

I am writing this to you because I am too much of a coward to face you myself. Today, Amal, I am leaving. This town, which I may have once loved- grows suffocating for me with every passing day. I am seeking redemption and I know that I cannot find it here. I am going to go search for my mother.

Perhaps... perhaps it is not too late yet. Perhaps there is still hope.

You might never see me again, but one day- I plan on coming back Insha'Allah. I plan on meeting you again- but in a state that I can be proud of. Then, I will be strong enough to muster up my courage and say, "I am sorry." Perhaps, you would embrace me and tell me that you've forgiven me.

We will sit together and talk all night. I would tell you about my life and you can tell me about yours, till the sun would rise again. Then, we would stop talking, and as the gentle rays of the sun would dance their way to the world, we would only watch- not saying a word, our hearts beating to the rhythm of, 'hope exists.'

Love, 
Asma.

Amal read the last paragraph, again and again, the tears streaming down her face. As the sun set outside, the lights in her room dimming, she held the letter to her chest, crying till the sun had completely set and her room grew dark. Then, she knew, that this very sun would rise once again, and Amal was going to wait for it.

~~~

There was a week left till the court hearing.

Zahid had finished with the report, gathered all of the information, and looked over every bit of preparation. Harris, having finished with most of the work as well, had gone back home- not after being forced by Zahid to clean the mess he had made in the kitchen. 

Zahid knew that he could not make any mistakes. While a single witness was often deemed insufficient for a murder case, there was a high chance of it being taken seriously, but only if Zahid's case was strong enough.

Thus, he worked day and night. Rest was something that had become foreign to him for the past week and with less than three hours of sleep, Zahid continued to work.

It was tiring, but Zahid did not feel it. Time would go by too quickly, and he would be too focused on his work to really feel the exhaustion.

His body, however, was beginning to take the toll.

Zahid's eyes blinked open one day to hear the fajr azan outside. He was on the sofa, a file still lay open on his lap when he realized that he had drifted off to sleep while working overnight.

It was then that he felt a strange heaviness take over his head. He tried pushing himself off the sofa but ended up resting back again, his eyes squeezed shut.

Massaging his temples, in a hopeless attempt to get the pounding of his head to stop, Zahid felt a shiver run down his spine. A sudden weakness had taken over him, and he felt his arms and legs aching terribly.

For a couple of minutes, he remained where he was, his eyes squeezed shut and his breathing heavy. Sleep was seconds from overtaking him but Zahid forced himself up.

He could not focus as well on his prayer, and as soon as he was done, Zahid dropped down on his bed, barely even pulling the blanket over himself when he started to lose grip on his consciousness.

When Zahid woke up, his body was burning with fever. His tongue was parched, and his head and entire body racked with pain. He lay in bed, trying to ease the pain in his head by massaging his temples but to no avail. He gave up eventually and buried his face in the pillow again, not realizing when he drifted off to sleep.

In a blurry recollection of events, Zahid remembered waking up a couple of times over the course of the day. He would toss around in bed, trying to gather the energy to force himself up, but would end up falling asleep again. He woke up once to his phone ringing loudly, and in a subconscious state, remembered picking it up.

He could hear Amal from the other side- but he wasn't too sure what she was saying. Muttering something as well, Zahid's grip on his phone loosened and it slipped from his hands, darkness welcoming him again.

He did not know how long this lasted, but to him, it seemed like forever. He felt completely helpless, only just able to wrap the blanket tighter around himself in a hopeless attempt to stop his body from shivering as he constantly fell in and out of his consciousness.

Eventually, his fever subsided.

Zahid opened his eyes. His body wasn't burning and he was no longer shivering. Even the pain in his body and head had abated, and as Zahid tried to make sense of the day and time- he felt something wet on his forehead.

It was then that his gaze fell on her. Sitting on a stool by the bed, one arm sprawled across the bed while the other curled under her head which was positioned at an awkward angle, asleep.

Ya Allah, he was seeing things now.

Zahid gazed at Amal. Her hair was matted and splayed about, curtaining the side of her face. Her eyelids closed, and her breathing deep and relaxed, Zahid noticed the way her eyelashes kissed the side of her face.

He did not mind it though, he smiled to himself, even if he was seeing things.

There is a difference between the way you look at someone and find them pretty, and the way you look at someone you love and realize that they are beautiful. When you're looking at someone you love- you are not just looking at their exterior. Rather, you are looking at their souls, and the value they add to your lives... because when you look at someone you love, you know that they are the definition of beauty and nothing can convince you otherwise.

Zahid raised his hand, the ends of his fingers brushing a strand of her hair back from her face. God, he could feel her too-

As his fingers brushed against her face, Amal's eyes fluttered open. Zahid retreated his hand- his eyes widening. Amal sat up, her gaze clashing against his. For a while, the two of them simply just stared at each other, before the ends of Amal's lips tilted upwards into a smile.

"Feeling better?"

Zahid's jaw dropped. He stared at her, appalled.

"Wait- YOU'RE REAL?!" 

Assalamualaykum.

Aye, that marks the end of Asma's story. While I have only shown a glimpse of Asma's story- she has become very dear to me. I believe that her story is something that we can all learn from, and I hope I did it justice. 

AND my babies are finally back together . Aye, this was a pleasant chapter but things are going to get a bit intense from the next chapter again. 

If you liked this chapter, consider leaving it a vote! Jazakillah!

[Thought Asma deserved her own aesthetic xD]