A Muslim's Romantic Journey

Chapter 33.

Yusuf’s POV

The days without Safia were dragging on painfully slow. Every single thing reminded me of her and her absence was always too obvious. Only after she left was I able to truly appreciate all that she used to do for me. Simple things like doing the laundry or ironing my clothes no matter how much I insisted I could do everything on my own.

I’d thought about calling her back many times but I just didn’t have the strength. I was far too embarrassed and my reasons for wanting her back were too selfish. I didn’t even know whether she’d come. I had been expecting a text or something from Hamza but I hadn’t received anything. I didn’t know what was going through Safia’s mind.

I still hadn’t found the courage to speak to my mum either. I had to do that before I spoke to Safia. What surprised me most was that my mum never even asked what Safia and I argued about. She was just going on like normal.

There was at least one good thing after this incident and that was Ramadan. I had made a plan that before I made any decisions or called Safia back, I had to change my ways. This time it would be for good. I was no longer a young boy driven by anger and finding a thrill in fighting people. Many times I had gotten into trouble at school for losing my temper with fellow students. That died down when I started my Alim course alongside my A Levels.

It was when school finished that the trouble at home started. Most of my anger then became directed towards Javed. I saw that he could do whatever he wanted but mum would still love him more. That’s when I started to do things to get mum’s attention. I’d stay out late, usually playing football or doing nothing. I had never touched drugs or alcohol, or even girls. I had that much fear of Allah.

I wanted to see a reaction out of my mum. I wanted her to scold me so I knew she cared. I wanted her to stay up waiting for me to come home. Instead, I’d come home to see Maryam sitting on the stairs waiting for me. I was in the wrong, I couldn’t expect my mum to stay up for me just because others’ mothers did. But she would stay up for Javed if he was ever out late. When I once asked her about this, she replied,

“I worry Javed might get into trouble. I know you won’t though.” That only made me want to get into trouble. If it weren’t for my Alim course, all the teachers who taught me and Maryam, I didn’t know what I would have done with my life. Nonetheless I made some bad choices. I stayed out of my house as much as I could and when I did come home, everyone was just annoyed at my presence. I was like a bomb ready to explode just by one comment from Javed. Of course he got away with it because I was the one shouting. I was told to control myself when no one said anything to him.

I thought I had changed though. I was convinced I had changed. But I hadn’t, not like I hoped. But this Ramdan, I was going to change. I was determined to. I would retreat to the mosque for I’tikaf on the last ten days of Ramadan as I had started doing only two years ago. That meant I would have ten whole days to purely focus on Allah. That also meant no trip to Morocco as I would use up all my days off work. But changing myself was far more important than a holiday.

On the first day of Ramadan, I missed Safia even more than before. It felt so wrong to spend my first day of Ramadan as a married man without my wife. I prayed to Allah that something would happen and that she’d come back to me. Later that day, around an hour after iftar, the doorbell rang. I sat in the living room while Javed opened the door and the people were told to sit in the front room.

“Your in laws are here.” Javed said coming into the living room. Immediately my chest tightened in anxiety. I went to the front room to see Uncle Dawud, Uncle Yahya and Hamza sitting there. I said salaam to them and shook their hands. Uncle Dawud and Uncle Yahya looked calm but Hamza wasn’t happy. I could see clear dislike in his dark brown eyes as they narrowed slightly when seeing me.