A tale of love, loss, and new beginnings.
Hareem wants to start over, Momin is stuck in the past. Can a newly wedded couple learn to love and accept one another while also dealing with an uncertain future and a haunting past?
Trigger warning: ptsd...
"..They planned, but Allah also planned. And Allah is the best of planners." (8:30)
Ups! Tento obrázek porušuje naše pokyny k obsahu. Před publikováním ho, prosím, buď odstraň, nebo nahraď jiným.
Chapter Forty
With all the walking she did on campus, she thought the climb to Momin's fifth floor loft would be easy, but it wasn't. By the time they reached his dark blue door, her legs ached with fatigue, and the back of her neck was moist with sweat.
The air filtering through the window in the staircase did nothing to ease the warmth of her work out, instead making her want to peel off her jacket to embrace the November cold.
"Give me a second," Momin whispered, digging into his coat pocket to retrieve the keys. They were in the same key ring as his car keys, a blue beaded M proudly hanging off the ring. "Assalamu Allykum!*"
The welcoming aroma of sweet mangoes filled the air, reminding her of the chaunsa mangoes her country was famous for growing. She inhaled the familiar scent, recalling warm summers where ice cold mangoes were the only thing she looked forward to after lunch.
Gingerly taking a few steps to walk through the narrow hallway, she glanced back at Momin who was busy bolting the lock, his lips moving silently. She caught him briefly glancing at a post-it note at the back of the door, arabic scrawled on it.
Bismil-lahi walajna, wabismil-lahi kharajna, waAAala rabbina tawakkalna. (In the Name of Allah we enter, in the Name of Allah we leave, and upon our Lord we depend)**
He smiled sheepishly, being caught in the act.
"Memorization isn't my strongest point." He explained, taking off his coat to hang in the coat closet beside the door. He gestured for Hareem to hand over her jacket as well, which she gladly did.
"It smells like mangoes." She observed, her eyes darting off the spacious living room as they entered.
"Ama brought the candles when she came last time."
"Oh." She nodded, her feet moving on their own as she walked by the sleek navy couch, towards the floor to ceiling window.
Her hand trembled slightly as she pressed it to the glass, her eyes glued to the scenery visible from the fifth floor loft. Lush green trees habited the forest, dirt paths winding around, a trail for hikers and fitness enthusiasts. She could see a flock of birds flying low under the clouds, their dark coats glistening for a moment as they intercepted rays of the sun.
All of it was an attestation to the incomparable beauty created by Al-Khaliq. A display of His magnificence and might over them.
"Subhan Allah." Momin said, startling her as she noticed him only a few inches away. When had he walked over?
"You should have brought me here earlier," she marvelled with a giggle. "This place is beautiful!"
