Call Out My Name

Forgiveness

Ishaan's POV.

It's been a month. A month since I haven't shaven. A month since I haven't eaten properly. A month A month since I haven't seen her. A month of complete self destruction.

The pain, the guilt, the resentment. Just, everything coming at me all at once. All I could think about was how will I fix this? How will I gain the woman I've lost back again? How do I make things right when there seems to be no way out.

And, that's when I remembered what she used to tell me. She used to say to remember Allah when in need. I was angry at god for the pain I was going through from the loss of my parents. I tried so hard to accept it for her and to make the hatred go away. It was in vain until I lost her. That's when I realized that I wasn't ready to let go of her. I don't think I'll ever be. The last thing I wanted was to lose her. Before, I wasn't able to stop my anger but now I wasn't able to stop the pain from having lost my woman.

So, like a hopeless man I fell on my knees in front of Allah. I spent my days at the mosque. I prayed all five prayers even if I wasn't so sure if I was doing it right. I just prayed and prayed. I refused to leave. I just wanted Allah to hear my prayers. I just wanted an answer. I wanted her to text me, call me or reach out to me. To say that she wanted to give us another chance.

None of that was happening. I doubted that it will. I saw the way she looked at me. I saw the pain in her eyes and I recognized it. This was goodbye forever.

They say that prayer fixes everything. It changes you, it brings out the best in you. It's the cure to a broken life. For once, I believed.

I believed in the miracles that would come with the prayer.

"Brother, I see you everyday at the masjid." This small boy breaks my chain of thoughts.

"Mmh? Oh...yeah. It's peaceful here." I tell him.

"I come here everyday for jummah" he proceeds to say.

"And, I see you every jummah" he adds with a smile that was missing two front teeth.

He reminds me of me when I was once his age. I had lost my parents when I was the same height as him.

"Where's your mother?" I asked him.

"She's on the women's side." He replied.

"Your dad loves your mom?" I don't know why I was asking him that. He's just a kid.

"Baba loves mama very much." He confirmed. I liked to hear that.

"Take care of them." I said.

Parents are taken for granted. And, I know I'm speaking from where I am today. I'm aware that not every parent is the same and some can be hurtful towards their children. But, I have so much respect for them. They give birth, they take care of us, they feed us, give us a home, they do way too much that we don't realize or see or even acknowledge. I loved my parents despite the twisted games they were involved in—I loved them because they loved me. And, when you're a kid you don't think you'll lose your parents, your superheroes. Because, superheroes don't die. They always survive and mine didn't. If I could get another day, minute, second with them—I would do anything to have it. I'd spent the rest of my lifetime taking care of them.

"I want to be a big boy like you and take care of them" he said. He's adorable.

"Why don't you smile?" He asked me.

"Ahmed, what are you doing here son?" I'm guessing his father came for his son.

"Baba, this is my friend" he tells his dad.