A Little Longer

To Him we will return

MARYAM'S POV:

It had been a long day and I had just made Wudhu to pray Maghrib when Ummi called me. My lecturer from the class I took today was young and I don't know if she thought she knew too much but she had this air around her that I didn't enjoy breathing. We didn't vibe, I guess. And she paired me with this other boy from my class, Jason who hardly paid any attention to any of the lecturers, as a matter of fact and spent more time trying to find out if I was on any kind of social media instead of finishing up our assignments.

See, I hate it when people come after me. Especially, when it's a boy. It isn't easy for a girl to do hijab correctly in this generation where everyone is trying to be everyone's friend, even across the globe. And I'm trying so hard to do my hijaab but when you have a non-mahram boy seated right in front of you and trying to sneak into your phone, it really isn't easy to look at the ground and talk.

"So, you sleep in that.. thing?" he asked me, while dramatically drawing around his face with his fingers.

I laughed. "No. I wear it when I Umm.. go out."

"But whyy? It's not like the world's going to be at your feet the minute they see your hair," Jason reminded me, skeptically.

I laughed again. "Well, it's like this Jason," I started. "In Islam, girls are like.. pearls. We need to be protected and handled very carefully because we were created to adorn this Earth. (He smirked and I ignored) This shawl I wear around my head, it hides something underneath it that a lot of boys tend to get attracted to. Boys like hair. Let me finish, Jason.. (I stuck my finger out) So Allah, our God commanded us to cover up because then only when the right person comes and commits to us, that is, marries us, he will get to see my hair and myself at its most beautiful. Not every boy gets to see me and admire what Allah has given me.."

"But you're still attractive the way you are.." he told me, so casually.

I rolled my eyes.

**

"Ummi, I'm going to pray Maghrib. I'll be back," I told her and went for Salah. I was half-way through the Ayathul-Kursi when I heard the sound of plates crash in the kitchen and an almost inaudible thud. I quickly finished reciting while hurrying to the kitchen only to see my mother lying amidst a pile of broken dishes, unconscious.

"UMMI!" I yelled and shook her. I shook her again. And again. Why wasn't she responding? Why isn't her chest rising?

"UMMI!" I shouted in her ears again. This time my eyes welled up and my heart was thumping inside.

I placed my head on her chest to listen to her heartbeat. Why wasn't I hearing anything?

I left her there and ran back to my phone. This was when I absolutely hated living alone with Ummi. I called Durdans requesting an ambulance and after spending about five minutes on hold and waiting for someone to speak some sense, an ambulance was sent. At least that's what I was told. I spent the next ten-fifteen minutes sitting next to Um mi, reciting Surah Ya-seen and Surah Fathihah. She hadn't moved an inch.

My heart dropped. My eyes stopped tearing.

When the ambulance arrived fifteen minutes later I quickly opened all the doors and called the men upstairs. Then I realized Ummi didn't have her hijab on so I quickly wrapped a shawl around her head and by then the men were there and they tried to lift her up when one of the men, who seemed slightly older took me to a side and shook his head.

"What?" I whispered, impatiently. I was being too adamant to accept what I already knew.

"Look darling. Your mother is.. I'm afraid.." he struggled to find the words.