Flashback

"Hasan Ahmed, do you take Sana Khalid as your wife, and do you promise to love her in sickness and health?" six-year-old Sarah asked, standing in between them. She held a big notebook to fit the role of the announcer she saw in the movies.

"I... do," seven-year-old Hasan mumbled, looking at Sana, who was smiling at him. The three of them saw a scene in a movie where two people were saying sweet things and promising their love for each other and there was an announcer in the middle who hosted it. Then when they stopped speaking, the crowd erupted in laughter and tears, which meant whatever the two of them were doing, was something celebratory.

"Sana Khalid, do you take Hasan Ahmed as your husband, and do you promise to... do whatever I said earlier for him as well?" Sarah asked, forgetting her lines. Sana glared at her friend when she forgot her lines but went forth with the ceremony when she realized she had forgotten what Sarah was supposed to say as well.

"I do!" Sana beamed, looking at Hasan with a determined expression. "Now comes the applause part!"

Sarah laughed and clapped aggressively, as hard as she could. Hasan and Sana laugh together with Sarah. "Awh, I was hoping for a crowd..." Sana pouted.

"We only have the plushies to play with us, Sana," Hasan consoled her. "Or I could bring the cats?"

"No cats!" Sana snapped. Hasan remembered that Sana was terrified of them. He had no idea until a week ago.

End of Flashback

Hasan sighed softly, as he remembered that day, and how focused Sana was to play her role. His small smile was replaced with a melancholic expression as he remembered how he had been distant from her without prior notice and out of the blue. She must have been shocked. He shook his head. The past was in the past. The fond memories and the bitter ones. All part of him.

"Akhi, stop sulking and come help me mop the house," Hussein barged into Hasan's room, holding a mop. "Why are you sulking anyway?"

Hasan stands up from his gaming chair and walks up to join his little brother at the doorway, "I was not sulking, Hussein,"

"You looked like Sawda when you give her cat food biscuits instead of tuna," Hussein raised a brow.

Hasan chuckled at the comparison. "You're saying I look as cute as a cat?"

"Okay shush and just come help me mop," Hussein scowled. Hasan laughed at his little brother and went with him to help him with mopping. He would do half the house, and his little brother would do the rest.

Sana was over at Sarah's house for the day. They were supposed to study the notes of their Tafseer class. Which, they of course did. Now, they were sitting on Sarah's bed and talking. More like Sarah was yapping Sana's ears off, but she didn't complain.

"Sana I just want to be six years old again," Sarah sighed and covered her face with both her hands, melancholically. "I was so carefree–"

"You were a nuisance, menace, and a feral animal and I'm glad you grew up," Sana said, staring at Sarah, unamused.

"That's what–"

"You still are, feral laughing machine," she added. "Just with a select few people,"

Sarah smiled nostalgically. She had indeed been a great nuisance and a menace as a kid. She was feral for sure. But she grew up. She now has responsibilities. She now has rules to follow. Her book of deeds has opened, and her deeds are being recorded. She is now accountable for every action she does. She grew up. She is not going to be able to turn back time. She can only grow up now.

"Now stop yapping about how much you want to be a baby again and let's continue revising our notes," Sana said, but there was no bite to it. "What does Allah (سبحانه وتعالى) say in the last ayah of Surah Baqarah?"

"Allâh burdens not a person beyond his scope." Sarah recited the Arabic part of it first before translating it herself. "So, whatever I am going through, Allah (سبحانه وتعالى) knows I am strong enough to handle it,"

Sana nodded in approval. "And if you feel you aren't, you can just ask the Almighty, Most Powerful for strength and He will strengthen you,"

Sarah dramatically wrapped her arms around her best friend and squeezed her so much that her best friend thought her eyeballs would pop out of their sockets. "Do you want to strangle me or something?" Sarah just laughs at that, and her best friend wraps her arms around her with a bit of reluctance.

After a while, it seemed Sarah had dozed off in a glaring Sana's embrace. Sana placed her best friend down and continued reading the notes, sitting on the floor's carpet. Her eyes fell on the sticky-note-covered wall, and she glided over the familiar notes. There was a new note on the wall – white ink on black paper – that said:

You keep your distance out of love.

She couldn't help but stare at that note for a while. It sounded stupid at first from the point of view of how romance is done these days all around where two people would try to get closer not farther. But she understood it.

No matter how hard it was for me to tear myself away from him, I did it for him, and for me – that is what annoys me most. This stupid timing. I should never have realized. I stay away from him because I don't want any of us to be exposed to the harsh winds of hellfire. Not even that. If one wrong stare, one wrong word, one wrong touch, because of me, ends him up anywhere near the hellfire – I would never allow that.

Let's not peer further into Sana's mind.

Sarah jolted awake nearly an hour later, asking her friend for the time. Her friend greeted her sleepy yet panicked face with a glare. "You slept the whole day now it's the next day,"

Sarah was baffled. She checked her phone and blew out her breath, relieved. "No crème caramel for you," she frowned at Sana.

Sana stands up to face Sarah with her eyebrows relaxed and raised, "Hey, anything but that–"

Sarah bursts out laughing. Sana's stony expression cracks to reveal a smile. Sure, her best friend may have been the most feral person growing up, maybe she yaps too much, but she does make her day brighter. By just being there.

"I love you, Sana," Sarah patted Sana's arm since she was short and tall enough to only reach that part. She was shorter since she was sitting, and Sana was standing. Sana eye-rolled at that.

"Whatever," she said, fondly. "Now go make us crème caramel,"

Ibrahim had indeed invited her little brother over. Maryam was outside at her newfound school friend's house – a house of three sisters and their father was out at work so he was alright to send her there. Also, because it was nearby. And their mother was going with her.

"Akhi, do you play Minecraft?" Ishaaq asked, tilting his head as he arched over Ibrahim's desktop laptop. "Everyone plays in my server!"

"Sure, I'd like to join," Ibrahim smiled. He did play Minecraft a lot a few years ago, and yes, he still had it installed. "It's been a while since I played though," he admits. Ishaaq gives him a determined smile.

"Don't worry, I am used to giving tutorials since my sister plays Minecraft every six months because new updates come in by then," Ishaaq reassured Ibrahim.

Ibrahim blinked at him. One, because he just learned that Ishaaq's sister – the mysterious, oddly cheerful, niqabi – plays Minecraft. Even though it's every six months – that was unexpected.

"So, you'll give me tutorials too?" Ibrahim asked, baffled. Ishaaq nods eagerly.

"Of course!"

Sarah was busy making crème caramel while Sana brought her the ingredients and reminded her of the measurements. Sarah was a great baker but for the life of her, she couldn't keep track of time in the kitchen.

"You left the caramel boiling for enough," Sana commented as she saw the sugar water mixture turn a burnt sugar color. That is what caramel is, isn't it?

"OMG Turn off the stove!" she exclaimed as she was whipping the pudding mixture. Sana did as her friend instructed.

Once it cooled down a bit, it tasted bitter. They burnt the caramel.

"How the heck does sugar turn bitter when burnt?" Sana frowned. She thought even if it burnt it should taste sweet since it's literally boiling sugar with minimal water.

"Tell me about it," Sarah sighed, trying to get the burnt caramel off the pot – but it was stuck there like a stubborn little caramel. She left it to soak and took another pan. This time she stared – nah her eyes bored into the pan as if she was frying it with her gaze.

Oh, they ran out of sugar because of this.

Anyway, since Sarah cooked the sugar with her deathly stare (Sana glared at it too), it turned out pretty well! She then put it to bake. It would take almost an hour for it to cook.

In this hour's time, Sana's mom called her back home to help with cleaning the house. Sarah's mom told her to get sugar from the grocery store. She was going to cook their favorite chicken roast with pulao – and a bit of sugar is needed to enhance the flavor.

Ishaaq was over at Ibrahim's place, otherwise, Umm Ishaaq would have sent him. He needs experience. Well, they both do.

At the grocery store nearby, Sarah was looking for sugar. The one they bought was usually on the top of the aisle – that was way taller than her. She hoped it would be lower this time. Huh, someone else was in the middle of these two aisles with her. Not like she'd want to socialize right now though. She stared at the sugar up there, expecting it to fall into her hands.

This other person grabbed the sugar packet from up there like it was the easiest thing to get a hold of.

"Looking for this?" that person asked. Then she looked around to see Ibrahim.

Right, she did notice he was tall last time. "Yes, Jazakallahu Khairan," He dropped the sugar packet into her hands. He turned to leave then stopped.

"Is there a pharmacy nearby?" he asked, looking at the other baking items on the other shelf.

Sarah was surprised by the question. "Yes, there is one further into this street," she replied, remembering the pharmacy. Mind you, she is not good with directions. "There should be a sign that says so,"

"Jazakillahu Khairan,"

"Wa Iyyak"

Huh, this was the first time he thanked her. It was usually her thanking him.

Ibrahim got chocolate sprinkles for Maryam – that she ordered him to get for her once she comes back home over the phone. Ishaaq cut his finger trying to help Ibrahim with making instant noodles. Do not ask how... he is a ginger cat. Ibrahim treated him first aid and then realized they didn't have band-aids, so he headed for the pharmacy.

Returning to his home, he sees Ishaaq and his mother talking – well more like her interrogating Ishaaq about his studies and family. When he saw Ibrahim, he bolted out of his seat to him.

"Akhi! You're back!" he exclaimed. "You should have brought me with you!"

Ibrahim didn't want him to exert himself with a cut hand. Even if it was a little one, there was still a bit of blood spilled.

"Give me your hand," he said, plucking out a band-aid from the bag he brought. He plastered the band-aid on Ishaaq's hand. "That should do it."

Ishaaq looked at the band-aid in his hand with awe. He thanked Ibrahim for letting him stay, feeding him noodles, and spending time with him.

"Of course, now just be careful with scissors and knives, okay?" Ibrahim advised. Ishaaq chuckled and nodded, exchanging temporary farewells. They would meet again at the masjid for Maghrib.

Ishaaq flew home when he heard Sarah over the call saying that their mom had made chicken roast. He loved his mom's cooking. He just loved food. Oh, and the crème caramel was to be kept in the freezer overnight, so they'd have it tomorrow, In Sha Allah!

Abu Ishaaq comes home, tired after his busy workday with his business. "Sarah, bring out the umbrellas," he said, as he settled himself down on the sofa. He held his forehead in hopes of calming the headache of exhaustion. Ishaaq brings his father a cup of tea.

"Abbi, I made tea," he said as he offered the cup of tea to his father. His father smiled.

"Jazakallahu Khairan Katheeran, my son," he smiled, sipping from the cup.

Sarah heard her father's instruction and shuffled through the cupboards and wardrobes, looking for the umbrellas. She brought them downstairs to her father.

"Abbi, is it going to rain?" Sarah asked, setting the umbrellas down on the coffee table. Abu Ishaaq nodded.

"Yes, there is a big rainstorm coming this weekend," he set his empty cup of tea down. "Even though it may be a light shower, let's be prepared," he smiled.

Sarah and Ishaaq nodded.

I'm going to end here with a hadith, okay? About Salah.

"The example of the five times prayers is like a river running at the door of one of you which cleanses himself with five times a day." - Muslim: 668

hey! i see a lot of authors adding a corner like this for fun and stuff, or to just yap. thought i'd add one too, since I love yapping. maybe I'll add some notes about what inspired the chapter? would that be interesting? 👀?