I had seen many monsters throughout my life.
All of them had been in the form of vicious people.
But the one I was dealing with now came in the form of a 19 year old woman.
She was the purest, most wholesome, and kindhearted person I had ever met.
Her personality really was unforgettable. She was kind and you could see her genuineness in the way her eyes held no hostility and no judgment.
Two days ago, I had been on a walk along the Seine when I spotted her figure quickly walking up the stairs to a building holding a box in her hand. I moved closer to the building and read a sign on the wall.
"Thomos B.children Orphanage," I read aloud.
What was she doing here?
That wasn't my business either way. This looked like something a stalker would do.
I internally cringe as I walk back across the street to the waterfront. I had decided to do another lap around this area before jogging back home when I saw her coming back out.
"Anything to help the children," she was saying to a woman that looked like she was in her late 40's.
"You really didn't have to bring all those toys though. I am grateful and I'm sure they are too." The woman shook Cyra's hand.
"The smiles on their faces and the sound of laughter make it all worth it." She says something else that I can't make out, but it constituted in the other woman laughing.
And that's when I knew I liked her.
I mean, I knew I had some sort of feeling for her for a while now. But that moment had solidified my feelings.
And that was a slight problem.
I had never approached a girl when I had liked them. More often than not, my feelings would go away when I would find them doing something rude or disrespectful or find them to be less religious than I initially thought they were.
But I had a feeling that my feelings for Cyra were not going to be washed away anytime soon. She was respectful, religious, hard working, and kind. And above all of that my family already knew and liked her.
Well, most of my family anyway.
That fateful day I had met her at the Masjid, I couldn't have known about the change she would prompt in me. My dad called me right after she had left and he told me that he wouldn't be back for another 6 months.
That meant I had to take care of Dua and his businesses for half a year.
I was stressed and had explained the situation to my 'friends' to which they responded by asking me if I wanted to smoke. The sad thing was that I had actually thought about it.
After my Islamic upbringing and even though I knew of the values my mother would have wanted me to uphold, the thought still passed my mind.
I know that it wasn't the worst thing I could have done, but I had tried my best to live a life I knew my mother would have been happy with.
And here I was messing it up.
But then she came into my life with her enlightening advice and kind words. She was brave and stood her ground, and her faith never wavered.
It was almost as if Allah SWT had handpicked her and chosen her for me.
Because just looking at her inspired me to become a better person. Her company was all I needed to think of becoming a better person.
Talking with her healed me. And I was sure living with her would cure me.
She was perfect. Absolutely perfect.
But how would I approach her in order to make it halal? Just thinking about it sent nerves down my spine. What if she said no?
I was explaining all of this to Hasan when I looked over to see he was making one of his faces.
"What?"
"Bro, I don't know much about what it is you're talking about but I'm pretty sure that's what you call love."
I had reached out to him a week ago after I had started trying to get back into praying at the Masjid and not doing anything haram. The man was the best influence on me while we were growing up even though he was younger, and things weren't any different now.
"I wouldn't go that far. Maybe like but not love."
"Not love yet."
I look at him and wait for him to talk again.
"Look, if you don't know what to do then just pray Istikhara now and Tahajjud tomorrow morning and see what happens."
That was actually pretty good advice coming from him. "If all goes well, I'll just have to muster up the courage to ask the blessing of my father and then to go to her father."
"I'll be right their with you if you want me to be. If she's the one then it'll happen regardless."
"I don't think I can do it now though. I'm just trying to get back into the gist of things after the whole issue with my cousin. I really don't think now is the best time."
"You have time bro, their's nothing to worry about."
I shake my head from side to side.
The truth was that I didn't want her to see me in the state I was in right now. I wanted her to see me at my highest. At the point I was at the halaqah. I wanted her to see the best in me and not some dude that had a broken life.
"I don't think I can keep any of this up anymore. She's just so - how do I explain it. I don't think I can keep it halal. I mean, maybe in my actions but my mind is in a completely different place. I can't get her off my mind." I run my hand through my hair as I lay my back on the couch.
"See, now that really is love. I see a wedding in the near future." My dear friend smiles. I know I couldn't back him down once he had something in his head.
"Do you think I should fire her. I can hire someone else. Didn't you say you were in need of a job?"
Hasan shakes his head and looks at me. "I think the best thing to do is to explain the situation to her. Explain your feelings and explain why you don't want to propose now. Then, if she needs a job you can hook her up with a high position in a company one of your dads friends owns."
"Of course that is if she does have feelings for me." I close my eyes, trying to shoo away the terrifying feeling that was rising in me. What would I do if she didn't?
"If Allah wills it shall happen. Of course, when you talk to her I'll come along just to make sure nothing haram is said or done."
"Thanks man," I say as I lend out a hand to which he takes.
"As long as I get a chance to talk to her friend, I'm good bro."
I raise an eyebrow at him.
"The one that's the shortest in her group," he explains.
"I'm sure everyone she hangs out with is respectable. But of course you'll have to have me as company if you want to talk to her before talking to her parents." I look at him sternly.
"Ok Baba. Geez those glasses make you look 10 years older."
"Call me Baba again," I say as I smile.
"Bro I swear. Please don't start acting sus-"
"Call me Baba again," I repeat as I get up and get closer to him.
He lets out a high-pitched girly scream as he jumps out of his place on the sofa and runs behind it.
I chase him and laugh.
It felt like we were children again. Why had I left this life? Maybe it was the neglection from my dad. Maybe it was all the stress and responsibility I had to bear. But what matters, as Cyla had told me, was that I was better now. It was all in the past.
I was putting a new step forward. Towards becoming a better Muslim.
For me.
For her.
For Allah.
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PRESS THE STAR BCUZ OMARS POV WAS AMAZING
no but fr what did y'all think of it
word count: 1346
Date Posted: 02/17/2022