16: Brothers

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- KING'S POV -


"Hey, ma." I said as I saw her sitting on a couch beside the infamous window with the view of the tree. She had her hands in her lap and a faint smile on her face as she looked up at my voice.

"Hello, King." She spoke, gesturing with her hand for me to sit beside her on the empty space on the small two seater couch.

I barely fit in the small space. She was a petite woman, my mother. Probably half my size and so once I sat she looked up to face me.

This was the first time I was beside her as a Muslim. I had become Muslim yesterday and I was going to tell her about my newly found identity and purpose in life.

"What happened to your chair, mum?" I asked her.

"I didn't want it anymore. This way we can sit beside each other." She said, glancing at me once again before looking out the window. I smiled as I looked at her, watching her features as she sighed in content and tilted her head to the side, resting her cheek in her palm, her elbow propped onto the arm rest of the couch.

"Mum, I have to tell you something." I began, uncomfortably turning my body to the side and resting my hand on her shoulder. "Mum? Can you look at me, please?" I asked softly.

"I'm looking outside. I'm listening." She answered me. She glanced at me for a second and smiled briefly before turning to look back at the window while I exhaled and shut my eyes, taking in deep breaths to calm the raging beating of my heart.

"Mum, do you know who a Muslim is?" I asked her simply, tilting my head to see her features, yet they didn't change whatsoever.

"Yes, they're people of the abrahamic religion; Islam." She answered me easily and I smiled widely, nodding my head as I swallowed the moisture in my mouth and licked my lips.

"That's right, mum. Do you think they're good people?" I asked her this time. I knew my mum didn't ever hold any ill thoughts towards anyone. She was the kindest, most accepting person ever.

"I've met some in my lifetime. They're people, just like you and I." She told me, finally turning her head to look at my face, her eyes that matched my own staring at me deeply.

"Mum..." I trailed off before clearing my throat. "I've become a Muslim, mum." I said clearly, watching as the smile slowly faded off her face while she looked at me with a stoic expression, void of any emotion.

"W-what...what does that mean?" She stammered, furrowing her eyebrows as I watched her chest heave up and down more visibly than it was before.

I went blank for a second, not knowing what she was thinking or why she had reacted this way.

"I-it...Nothing, mum. It just means I devote my life to God and obeying His rules, his prophet ﷺ and that I believe in Him and the angels, the holy books, His messengers, the day of judgement and Devine destiny." I explained in a nutshell.

"Are you still going to come see me?" She whispered softly, making me furrow my eyebrows.

"Of course, mum. In fact, I'll come even more, bring gifts every time, show you how much I love you and how grateful I am for you. You're my key to paradise now, mum. I'm going to be an even better son." I told her, meaning every word. She was my key to paradise. In Islam, my entrance to heaven was dependent on my treatment of my mother, my mother, my mother and then my father.

Abu Huraira reported: A man asked the Messenger of Allah, ﷺ "Who is most deserving of my good company?" The Prophet ﷺ said, "Your mother." The man asked, "Then who?" The Prophet ﷺ said "Your mother." The man asked again, "Then who?" The Prophet ﷺ said, "Your mother." The man asked again, "Then who?" The Prophet ﷺ said, "Then your father."
Source: Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī 5626, Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim 2548

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