Accepted With Flaws

- Wavering hearts -

The man said, "O Messenger of Allah, what is sin?" The Prophet, SallAllahu Alayhi Wa Sallam, said:
If something waivers in your soul, then you should abandon it.
Musnad Aḥmad 21695
(Sahih)

Luth's PoV

The tattoos .....

As soon as she saw them, her facial expression changed, and she quickly turned around to leave.

I hung up the call without informing and threw it on the bed, rushing to catch up with Omaiza.

"Omaiza, please wait," I called out in a plea, my heart heavy with regret for my carelessness.

She didn't respond, and I could only imagine the turmoil she must be feeling, witnessing something that went against our Islamic beliefs.

I caught her hand gently, my voice filled with sincerity. "Can you give me a chance to talk?" I asked, a note of vulnerability in my tone.

I was still half-naked without a T-shirt, her eyes again falling on my body, but I hoped she could see the earnestness in my gaze.

She turned to face me, her expression a mix of hurt and confusion. "I didn't expect this," she whispered softly.

I nodded, regret gnawing at me. "I know, Omaiza."

She finally met my eyes, her own searching for sincerity. "Those tattoos... Lut. Why would you have them?"

I sighed, taking a moment to gather my thoughts. "Omaiza, these tattoos are from a time in my life when I was lost. I made mistakes, and they serve as a reminder of the path I don't want to tread again."

Her expression softened slightly, but she still seemed hurt. "But you know they are haram, forbidden in Islam."

I nodded, feeling a deep sense of remorse. "Yes, I do. And I've been trying to make amends, to become a better Muslim. This is a part of my past that I regret deeply."

Omaiza's gaze softened, and she finally withdrew her hand from mine. "I won't judge you Lut, but it was just shocking to see them".

She asked me if I wanted to talk about it, her gentle voice a soothing comfort to my troubled heart. I agreed, feeling grateful for her willingness to listen.
We decided to talk about it once we were done with Ishaa prayer.

Later we took a seat on her bed.She sat a bit away from me, her eyes filled with understanding and concern. I could sense the weight of her gaze, and it reminded me of why I admired her so much.

As we settled in, she came closer and placed a reassuring hand on mine. Her touch was comforting, a reminder that I wasn't alone in my struggle. She looked at me with those kind, understanding eyes and said, "Hey, Lut, I don't want you to dwell on this if you don't want to. It's alright. And remember, I'm not here to judge. None of us are perfect. Who are we to judge when we ourselves have our imperfections?"

Her words were like a soothing breeze on a scorching day. I felt a lump in my throat, overwhelmed by her compassion.
"Omaiza," I began, my voice sincere. I paused.

She smiled warmly, her hand giving mine a reassuring squeeze. "We all have our struggles, Lut. What matters is how we deal with them and strive to be better. You're doing just that, and I respect that."

I nodded, feeling a deep sense of relief. "I promise, Omaiza, I'll do my best to be the person you deserve."

Her smile grew, "That's all I could ever ask for."

I took a deep breath and began,

* past Flashback *

After my departure from the boarding school, the world seemed alien to me, a realm transformed beyond recognition. As I stepped into the world outside, an unsettling feeling of being an outcast enveloped me, as if I no longer belonged. At 17, a year older than my peers, I yearned to blend in seamlessly with guys my age.