The Night After Taraweeh
I met Muhammad on a night that smelled like rain.
It was after Taraweeh prayer. The mosque was still glowing softly behind us, women adjusting their veils, children running ahead of their mothers, the air cool and restless like it couldn't decide whether to rain or not.
I was in a hurry.
I needed to buy a recharge card before heading home because the train would soon start dropping, and I didn't want to be outside when the rain finally gave up pretending and started pouring.
As my sister and I walked past the small shop, I saw him.
He was standing there casually, like he had nowhere urgent to be. Our eyes met for half a second, nothing dramatic, nothing cinematic. Just a glance.
Then the wind shifted.
"Muyi gudu kar ruwa ya sauko!" my sister said.
We started running because the sky had already begun threatening us. I didn't look back.
I didn't know that small moment would later grow into something that would change how I see love forever.
A week later, I was in the kitchen helping with dinner. My phone was in my room. I wasn't expecting any call.
When I finally went back inside, I saw a missed call from an unknown number.
For a moment, I stared at it.
Who could this be?
Curiosity won.
I called back.
He picked almost immediately.
His voice was soft. Sleepy. Heavy like he had just woken up.
"Sorry... I'm having a headache. I'll call you later."
Something about the way he said it.
Something about the calmness in his tone.
Something about how gentle it sounded.
I pulled the phone away from my ear and looked at the number again.
Waye wannan yake min sakalci?
I don't know why my heart reacted the way it did. It wasn't even a full conversation. Just a few words.
But I went back to the kitchen with thoughts that didn't exist before.
Why did his voice stay in my head?
Why did it feel... different?
At that time, I didn't know that sometimes the beginning of destruction doesn't look like danger.
Sometimes it sounds like a soft voice saying, "I'll call you later."
KAMU SEDANG MEMBACA
Calm men lie too
RomansaI told him I didn't want to fall in love again. He said he was different. Khaleesat was afraid of love, afraid of being broken twice. But Muhammad was patient, calm, and convincing. He felt safe. He felt intentional. Until the subtle lies began. Unt...
