Meet Taliha, a renowned introverted bookworm with a haunting past and a secret alter ego as an up-and-coming Islamic writer. Her peculiar and unconventional reactions to life's twists and turns have left her questioning her very existence, as the wo...
In the name of Allah, the Most Gracious and Most Merciful, the thirty-fourth chapter of the story begins, please do enjoy it. Good luck!
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Taliha's POV : I woke up in my bed, my body stiff as a board. The darkness of my room pressed in around me. I heard nothing but the beating of my own heart. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't move a muscle.
The last thing I remembered was a locked door in my school. My body was free, but my mind was still trapped.
I felt a deep sense of abandonment, as if I had been left behind by the one person who was supposed to be there for me. It was a feeling I couldn't shake, no matter how hard I tried. I felt a knot in my stomach, a heaviness in my chest. I was consumed by a deep sense of loneliness, an emptiness that seemed to stretch on forever. I couldn't help but wonder, what had I done to deserve this?
[Q60:5] 'Our Lord, do not make us a test for the unbelievers, and forgive us, our Lord. Surely You are Most Mighty, Most Wise.'
Toby never came back for me, he abandoned me.
In a nutshell, I can't stop thinking about Arif. Even though he's not physically there, his presence was comforting and reassuring. My mother has been helping me to leave my bed, but was always a struggle. I felt so anxious every minute because it's hard to take even a single step outside of my bed.
I call it the Bed rest syndrome - unable to get out of bed and participate in any normal activities.
I lay in bed, my heart racing as I heard a knock on the door. With a sense of dread, I turned to look at the door and saw my mother standing outside. She sighed softly, closing the door behind her as she entered the room. I shifted uncomfortably under the covers, my eyes wide with fear. Her presence was a reminder of the traumatic experiences I had been through, and I felt my anxiety rising.
"Salaam alaikum wa Rahmatullah" - peace be upon you and the mercy of God, I greeted her, one eye still on my phone in case any notifications came through.
"Walaykum salaam" - peace be upon you too, she replied, the smile on her face betraying her worry.
She reached for my hand and I almost jerked out of her reach, but my weight held me in place. Her hand felt soft and warm as she held it gently, the look of concern in her eyes.
"How are you feeling, my dear?" she asked, concern evident in her voice.
I didn't answer, just looked at her with an empty expression. She studied my face, trying to read my thoughts, but I remained silent.
"You seem to be doing a bit better," she said, her voice gentle and reassuring. "Your eyes aren't as red, it's clear you've gotten some rest. Alhamdulilah," she smiled, praising Allah for my improved condition.
Sleep had been a struggle for me, plagued by nightmares and other sleep disturbances. Even after I was discharged from the school hospital, my first night back in my own bed was rough. I woke up in the middle of the night, feeling anxious and afraid. My thoughts kept going back to the moment when Toby had left me behind, the look of terror on his face burned into my memory.
