A/N- After Fajr prayer, around 10 to 20 minutes after sunrise, if any one prays two Raka'ahs of Ishraq, it may be equivalent to the rewards from performing Hajj and Umrah. This is incredible considering it literarily takes like two minutes to do! Also, Tahajjud prayer begins in the midnight when one wakes up and can be performed at midnight or any time at night before the Fajr Salah. At this time, Allah listens and fulfills every wish an individual does at midnight since he comes on the first sky. Tahajjud prayer has 12 Rakats or more or less if one wants. It's like easy bonus points!
Take a couple of minutes to watch the video above, it is very moving and will benefit you In Sha Allah.
Thank you for the continuous support and leaving comments and voting. Enjoy the chapter, hope you like it! I also hope you have an amazing day! xx
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By the time I pull up into the parking lot, the sky is still a hue of orange and red splattered in the loveliest contrast over the still dimmed morning atmosphere. I clutch my hot tea in one hand and bring my jacket closer to my body with the other. It is slightly chilly outside but wonderful regardless.
"Hey Betsy, can I go in?" I ask the front desk lady that I have become very close to within these past two weeks. Her beautiful dark curls bobble up as she looks up from her computer. She looks a little tired but her smile doesn't give it away as clearly.
"He's still in a bit of a mood sweetie, but we can go see if he is going to be friendly," she says warmly.
I gulp down the lump forming in my throat and follow her little body towards his room. It is still dark in the hallways but a couple of lights here and there allow some visualization of a path. Betsy has told me that my father likes to wake up extremely early to pray, which is an exceptional blessing considering he has forgot almost all of his past prior to his place in this very hospital.
The day I saw his loss of memory in action was still nipping at me every second of the day because of the trauma it compiled. Adam had fought with the doctors for not recovering my father's memory, which he and I both knew was a fruitless argument, but he continued pushing them to the edge after he had seen me crying. It went on for a long time, with my head bent down between my legs and the blood rushing to my eyes. I had just sat there in that position and listened to their bickering back and forth, with Adam showing no respect whatsoever.
"I'm sure you tried your best. I can see you working hard right now what with you taking coffee breaks every five seconds, when you could be out there making something happen. " Adam had yelled sarcastically.
But he wasn't done yet. His voice literarily roared through my eardrums and it scared me a little.
"Stop bringing up the whole astonishing recovery and him having fought it beyond the five month period. You haven't done anyone here a favour besides giving them false hope and feeding them lies. It's pathetic that you are only here for the loads of cash you collect for doing dead shit."
I wanted to stop him from being rude but I couldn't make the effort to do it. I knew I was angry but I didn't no who this fury was pushed towards and I knew blaming the doctors was irrational. It just wouldn't solve anything. It was a test again, an extremely indescribably painful one, but up to this point, I was strong enough to handle it. I knew I wasn't right now, but I would grip onto some resilience soon enough.
Adam was in a full season of rage and I found it intriguingly nice that he would feel so strongly about this.
I remember that I had heard Aasif come out a while after this back and forth.
"Adam, there is no point," he had said, the defeat thick in his voice.
I had often wondered why he never told any of us about his implausible win against the most well played soccer team. I had seen a picture he was tagged in on Facebook but he made no mention of it. Now, I can tell that he has slightly given up. I had seen through his eyes once he arrived into his hospital bed following me telling him so, that he had spaced out of reality. His recent distant behaviour around the house showcased this as did his often absence from home. It made me realize how little he cared about his accomplishment at that game because he was some how not seeing the point in it perhaps. I knew that my father was the main motivation for him through out all his games and the only one that shared the same interests as him, so this happening to my father had affected him probably more than it did mama and me combined. But of course, he had an incredibly weird way of expressing it.
Adam had calmed down I presumed considering I didn't head anything from him after the doctor had said they were trying their best to resolve the issue. And I knew it would never be solved, which made me drown deeper. I still didn't know where mama was and I realized that I didn't want to confront her because it would hurt me even more.
"We have to help him on our own Aam, these money suckers don't care," Adam had whispered beside my still crouched position. I heard him spit in a distance, which would have disgusted me, but as of right now, I didn't care. He was right, we had to make our own effort to help him get back to where he was. It was a blessing nonetheless that he was strong enough to have beaten the five month living expectancy that the doctors had predicted, which made me hopeful and thankful at the same time. Maybe I could make this happen.
"How?" I had stuttered just after the recent crying episode I had.
"I was thinking of old photo albums and videos; past memories that could trigger and resurface his remembrance. Maybe useless but a mile of an effort from what any of these idiots will offer you," I had heard him grunt in anger. He sounded completely confident about the idea, which made me feel at ease.
But then again, it was really the only hope I had.
I had shaken my head and underneath my hijab, I was determined because Adam had established a tinge of chance, one that I was willing to lock up.
So here I was, coming just after dusk to try to reassemble his memory for the past two weeks. He has made some progress, which I am beyond grateful for, but there is still a lot of work left. The majority of the time was dealt with his fluid mood swings and changing interest, but he was trying nonetheless. I had explained through pictures how Aasif was his son and how Noor was his wife. Mama still refused to come back even though I had promised her he had progressed, because deep down I knew his lack of remembrance scared her. She would ask me every night about his advancement and smile when I told her how much he has learnt. My father was still a bit skeptical about calling us his family, which was a painful to hear but I sucked it up and hoped he would eventually realize that we were his children and that mama was his wife.
I just had to be patient.
"Ibrahim, your daughter Aamirah is here to see you," Becky says in a singsong voice, almost as if she is talking to a child. This treatment irritates me but I let it go.
I peek over her shoulder at a man I still call my father, regardless of him dismissing the saying as soon as I make it. He looks up at me from his Quran that I had given to him, which he surprisingly knew to read well after some initial difficulty. His face looks radiant and warm, but the increasing wrinkles on his face and the greying hair that has grown on his head after it being shaved, makes me teary eyed. He raises his eyebrow to examine me and then smiles as if realizing who I am.
"Aamreerah, come inside," he says after getting off of his bed. I ignore my forgotten name and go inside the little nude colored room. Betsy smiles from ear to ear and wishes me luck before leaving us alone.
"So how are you doing dad?" I ask, while cautiously taking a seat on his bed. I notice him slightly flinching at the word 'dad' but I have become accustomed to it so I see no need to be surprised. When he only shakes his head and looks out his window, I try to continue.
"I have brought some photo albums of you with your family," I add, unzipping my backpack full of old albums I had dug out of the basement. He seems captivated by the idea because he turns around to look at me. I watch as he slowly walks over to the other side of the bed and sits as far away from me as possible.
"Well, hurry up then," he says impatiently, which makes me smile.
We go through some of my baby pictures and of him holding me in his arms. He traces the photos with his fingers as if trying to withhold the emotion behind them. I watch him smile at some silly family photos, but he doesn't make any comment or speak about feelings of nostalgia. It presses on every nerve when he doesn't even say anything about his marriage photos, he just flips through them with an unreadable expression. This goes on for a while until he starts flipping through them faster; to the point of anger Before I am fully aware of it, he is throwing the album towards the wall over my head. I duck down luckily and stand up slightly trembling.
"I know you want me to remember but I can't, " He frustrates, throwing all of his bed sheets off the bed.
"It's okay dad, it'll take some time," I say calmly, feeling tears trickling down at the sight of this side of him.
"Don't call me that, just don't," he yells dismissing my words with his hands all over the place.
"What kind of father doesn't remember his own daughter?" He asks calmly this time, tilting his head to the side. I can see he has tears falling down his cheeks, which make my tears flow faster. He words hit me hard; really hard. But, I just stand there flabbergasted.
"Get out," he commands in full force, motioning his hand towards the door. I look at the plain white door and then back and him, not sure if I am hearing him correctly.
"Get out. Get out. Get out!" He chants in full bitterness, his face completely reddened. I quickly move my legs and pick up the thrown albums from the ground, while rubbing the tears from my face. Once they are all in my backpack, I look at his tortured face one more time before leaving out the door.
"How did it go?" Betsy asks on my way out. I want to walk away but I feel my feet stopping to look at her. She notices my appearance perhaps because she quickly removes the huge grin on her face.
"It's okay honey, don't blame yourself, his medications disturb his mood, try again tomorrow," she encourages sweetly.
I wipe my face with the back of my hand and nod at her. She is right. From today, I could tell that he was trying to remember but couldn't help himself. It was not his doing so he couldn't be blamed for his lack of memory, but him thinking it was his fault he couldn't remember upset me. So, I was determined to come tomorrow and maybe change that.
"Thanks Betsy, I'll see you." I say and she replies with a friendly wave.
I drag my self to school and wait for the bell to ring. I feel awfully lonely standing by myself and watching people enjoy themselves. After two weeks of not hearing from neither Nura nor Sophia, I am satisfied they understand. It's exceptional that Ayah has become somewhat of a replacement, which sounds awful but she is a new friend that I will not let lie in my own pain.
I elevate when I see her stroll towards me.
"Gooooood Morning Aam," she gushes in my ears, bumping me in the side. I look over at her and smile, slighting cringing that she kept the nickname.
"How's it going?" I reply after I muster up a laugh.
"Just came here, how about you?"
"Yeah same."
I made sure I cleaned my face and composed myself before coming into the school. I really didn't want to bother anyone else with my family problems. The world is already a negative place.
"Can I talk to Aamirah?" I hear Adam question out of nowhere, most likely directing it to Ayah.
We both frantically look to our left and there he is, standing and watching me.
"Sure, she's all yours," I see her smile at me and then leave.
"So, how's the progress?" He asks, coming in slightly closer. I notice this and move away, keeping distance between him and his dumped on cologne.
"He's the same as he was when you asked me yesterday," I say through a chuckle because he has been asking me daily and I answer with the same response every time.
"I missed that sound," he mentions and I am slightly puzzled.
"What sound?" I ask looking around to see if I have missed something.
"Your laugh."
There goes my heart and keeping it together. It blows that my face blushes without my permission, giving away my reaction to him. I need to be strong, he's making me weak.
"I'm sure he has progressed in the last couple of hours," he argues.
"Today he got a little angry but I can tell he is trying," I reveal, deciding to just tell him.
"Are you okay?" he inquires and the question gives me butterflies.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"You don't look fine," he says probably examining my face from the side but I can't tell because I am looking ahead.
"Gee thanks," I reply even though I know he doesn't mean it that way.
"Not like that I-" He begins but is stopped by an obnoxiously loud calling of his name.
Naomi struts over to us in her overly exposed outfit and uncomfortable heels. She doesn't bother looking at me when she grabs Adam's hand. I immediately want to walk away but Adam stops me.
"Wait Aamirah. Naomi not right now," he verbalizes tensely.
"No, it's fine, you two do what you have to do," I mumble before walking past them.
"Wait." Adam urges but I ignore it.
"Stop." I hear him press and know from the closeness of his voice that he is following me.
"Aamirah, seriously."
I don't know what it is that possesses me to stop; maybe knowing that he isn't going to discontinue until I do what he asks or because of the desperateness in his voice. But I give up on walking and turn to face him.
"I have to go" I exhale, exhausted.
I take in his black shirt and distressed denim jeans fit with the black cap he has on, and find myself distracted.
"Okay," he wavers with defeat.
"See you in English." I announce before walking to my first class just in time before the bell rings.
Classes drag but it's good because they distract me from my life. By the time lunch comes, I make my way over to my locker and stand there for a bit before I hear a loud howling sound from a group of people, the sound coming from downstairs. The sounds come out louder and I can see people coming around the railing to look at the noises.
"Fight! Fight! Fight!" is what I hear once I'm walking over to join the crowd of people.
I roll my eyes and curiously look down. There is a huge circle of people but what makes my heart leap out of chest is seeing Aasif in the middle, sitting on top of some one and punching them mercilessly in the face. I take no second to think before my feet fly towards the stairs, almost missing a step on my way. I push through the loads of people and end up in the middle where Aasif is still at it.
"Aasif, stop!" I hear myself screaming over the continued chanting of people.
He probably doesn't hear me because he stays put, so I continue with my pleas. I know I won't be able to pull him off so I look around to see if someone else can make the move to. Thankfully, some seniors pulls him off. Aasif continues punching the air while they move him away and I stare at his bloody nosed friend, not sure what to say. I just open and close my mouth and watch as the school staff intervene and force everyone to leave.
"Aasif, what were you thinking?" I yell at him once everyone has left and I am alone with him in the office. I try to grab his arm to force him to look my way but he painfully pulls it back. His nostrils are flared in anger, still breathing heavily. I'm confused about this whole situation. He was always close with his friend, which is why I really wonder what happened.
'Why did you fight?" I ask in a whisper, almost hoping he doesn't hear because of how violent he is being. His hair is all over the place and his lip is dripped of blood.
"It's none of your business," he yells right in my face and I have to look away from him to smile in reassurance at the old office lady who peaks up from her computer to provide us with a suspicious look.
"Actually it is, mama is already going through enough as it is and I witnessed your unnecessary fight so that gives me a right be a part of your business," I hiss quietly, trying to act calm around the guidance councilors walking around.
"How would you know it was pointless? If you don't want to be here, just leave. The door is right over there, go help yourself," he snorts in full-blown mockery and I just stare at him in awe.
"Fine, if that's what you want," I huff, leaving the office but looking back at him on my way out. He just brings his phone out and doesn't even bother to glance up.
I am already late for my English class and I feel every urge to not go inside but after putting one step into the class, I know that it's already too late to go back. I apologize to Ms. Olsen but she waves it off, almost knowingly. I am met with some boring stares and just when I sit down, Adam turns to face me.
"I just heard, is Aasif okay?" he questions in a whisper while Ms. Olsen is talking about our English novels.
I divert my attention from the teacher to him.
"Yeah, he's okay." I reply nonchalantly.
"Whats up with the mood?" he asks, his eyebrow raised in humor.
"Aam?" he presses when I ignore him.
"Shut up," I hear Sebastian groan next to me.
"Was I talking to you blondie?" Adam elevates intimidatingly.
"That's what I thought." he taunts when Sebastian makes no other comment.
"Why the fight?" He continues as I stare at the teacher, trying to pay attention.
"I don't know!" I jeer as loud as I can.
"Please thank Adam and Aamirah for volunteering to go bring our novels for us," Ms. Olsen says through a forced grin.
"Thank God,' Adams huffs sarcastically before getting up and leaving the classroom in haste, while Ms. Olsen just stares at him with her jaw somewhat dropped.
She really shouldn't expect any more from him.
I walk out the door and enter the library to catch Adam pick up a box of books.
"You sure you can pick it up?" he asks mockingly.
"Watch me."
I quickly raise the box up and show no feeling of pain at the horrendous heaviness of it.
"Let's go through the basement." He suggests but I ignore him and wobble my way through the hallway. I look through the office window and see no sign of Aasif anywhere, which worries me. But all those thoughts break apart when the announcements start.
"We are going to have a lockdown, please enter the closest classroom and follow the teacher's instructions. I repeat, we are having a lockdown. Thank you."
I look around and see Adam waving me into the basement again. Since there is no classroom anywhere close, I waddle the ten feet there, the box hurting my biceps now. Once I make it, he locks the door and I move back and away from the glass of the door.
"The lockers are clean, yeah?" Adam asks and his voice echoes in the huge room. I look at him questioningly before I realize he is talking into his phone so I just sit there playing with my fingers.
"You stupid idiot, what did I tell you?" He spits into the phone.
"Nobody cares if you had an exam, you had to get it done!" I can see pure anger in his tone and it makes me feel eerie. He doesn't even bother to look my way and the fact that I am still in the room listening in on him while he continues talking is kind of unnatural of him.
"See if you can cause a distraction."
He throws his phone at a distance, throwing a fist into a wall. I look at him in utter curiosity and once he begins to look away, I pretend my ignorance by reading a copy of Pride and Prejudice from the box.
"You okay?" I ask casually while flicking through the book.
"Yeah yeah fine," he says and I know he is lying.
Again.
"Who was that on the phone?"
"A friend," he answers.
I just nod because there is no point in asking him these questions.
He walks over to pick up his phone.
"Any progress?" I hear him talk after a while of silence, knowing he isnt talking to me.
'How long?"
"Who snitched?"
"I'm going to kill him."
"No," he groans, punching the door.
And then silence.
"Adam, what's wrong?" I ask, gently placing the book away.
"Nothing, don't worry about it," He rushes while leaning against the wall and looking up at the ceiling trying to look calm.
"Is that a camera?"
I look up to where he is pointing and see a small hidden lens in the corner of the ceiling. I nod to his question and wonder briefly if I see a flicker of fear in Adam's face as he swallows my response. But before I can make it out, there is a hard knocking on the doorframe that shakes the soul in my body. I see Adam flinch at the noise and I follow his direction through the glass to see a huge man.
Not just just any man.
I stare wide-eyed at Adam and then look back at the door that is still being hammered.
"Open up, it's the police!" some heavy voice yells.
I look at Adam who has now crouched against the ground and is looking up at the ceiling. My hands are trembling as I stare at him and his blank look and at the door, which is being unlocked by the enforcer. The rest happens way too fast and I find myself getting off the ground and blinking a couple of times to convince myself its real.
"Get off the ground and put your hands where I can see them," the police officer commands in front of a still squatted Adam. When he doesn't move, the police officer pulls him off the ground and slams him into the wall, the sight making my insides hurt. I feel my heart quake when the officer hand cuffs his hands towards the back of his body before roughly feeling into his pockets.
"Stop, you're hurting him," I croak, annoyed that I sound like a little kid.
"Ma'am it's all a part of protocol, please move back," He instructs me and I feel myself walking backwards.
"It's okay," Adam yells over his shoulder at me, struggling to turn.
"Get your filthy hands off of me!" He yells and struggles with the police officer's grip of him while he is running over Adam's rights. The officer ignores him by pushing him harshly out the door and I am left feeling all alone in the echoing dark walls of the lowest level of the school, wondering what in the world just happened.
I quickly stumble outside and up the stairs into the main hallway to see a huge crowd of students overruling the lockdown. I see some familiar faces that hung around Adam, all escorted by the police officers with their wrists shackled behind them. Adam is behind them all, being pushed roughly to walk forward.
"Crazy huh?" I hear some one say under their breath; the slightly terrifies me out of my little bubble.
I look to my right and see familiar blonde hair, his blue eyes focused on the situation. I just nod and remember Adam mentioning him over the phone and wonder, just briefly, if he had anything to do with all of this. The thought angers me.
When they are all taken out of the school, people begin moving back to their classes blooming with rumours and conversation. I stay rooted to my spot, shaking my head in horror at the accusations.
None of it can be true.