HEALED💌

The dawn was quiet and comforting In a way that was soothing. Ayla's thoughts got disturbed by the knock on her door' probably her mother telling her to come help her in the kitchen.

Ayla folded her prayer mat and opened the door, her hair tucked under her scarf.

"

Yes, mama?"

Ayla asked her voice soft and distant.

"

Come help me in the kitchen, you know your baba wants his tea after his fajr prayer."

Her mother said in a chapped voice.

"

Coming in a minute"

Ayla said, watching her mother's retreating figure.

Ayla Fatima

was softness wrapped in sabr. Quiet, observant, and deeply connected to her deen, she carried a heart that spoke more to Allah than to people. Her eyes held unspoken duas, and her soul longed not for love, but for a companionship that would lead her closer to Jannah.

Ayla came downstairs, adjusting her dupatta on her head. She glanced around, seeing that no one was around. Just then a voice echoed from the kitchen, her mother. Telling her to hurry up. Ayla went to the kitchen seeing that her mother was making breakfast.

"

What took you so long, huh? Can't you see that your father is about to come?"

Her voice is slightly raised making Ayla look down at the floor.

It's not new for her, her stepmother never treated her like own. Yes, stepmother. Her mother died when she was younger, her father remarried under the pressure of his sister and this woman never accepted Ayla. Ayla is so much dear to her father.

Just then the main door opened, her father entered, he's a man of deen, a great father and a great husband. Ayla has always admired him.

"

Ayla, my dear, come here."

He called out for her, his voice soft and gentle.

Ayla came with a tray in her hands , in the tray was a cup of tea and an omelette and toast.

"

Assalamualaikum, baba."

She said softly, placing the tray down in front of her father who was sitting on the plush couch.

"

Walekum assalam, my dearest daughter."

He pats the space beside her signalling her to sit down with him. It's their thing.

Ayla sat beside him, they sat in a soothing silence for a while before her father broke the silence.

"

My child, can I ask you something?"

"

You don't have ask for any permission, baba."

Her father sighed in relief before continuing.

"

My child, it's about time you should get married. I'm not getting any younger, you know."

Ayla stilled for a moment then she nods, couldn't say anything.

"

He's my friend's son. He's a CEO of a well respected company, Zuraiz Ahmed. Are you okay with it, my child?"

Ayla thought, she wasn't ready for this conversation. She knew this was coming, she wanted to say no. But something in her father's eyes, made her nod.

"

Shukar Alhamdulillah, she got some sense into her. I was worried sick about her."

Her stepmother's echoes from the kitchen, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.

In the hall, her father held her hands soothingly. "

You won't regret this decision, my daughter. Go rest now. They'll come in the evening."

In the evening.

"

Ayla, are you ready? They're here!!!"

Ayla's cousin sister, Haya, said excitedly.

"

You're acting like it's your marriage."

"

It is! You're my pretty cousin, I'm so happy for you!!"

Haya said while side-hugging Ayla. Ayla was ready, nervous and and hesitant. Ayla has left the decision to her father, she trusts him. More than him, she trusts Allah and that's enough for her.

Downstairs

.

Everyone was chatting with each other, about marriages, the talks.

Zuraiz didn't come, not because he didn't want this marriage but because he has left the decision to his parents and Allah. The nikkah date was fixed for next Friday in The Blue Mosque of Istanbul.

"

We will treat Ayla like our own daughter. Don't worry about anything, we'll manage everything."

His mother said with a promise that assured her father.

"

Ameen. May Allah put barakh in this relationship."

The Next Friday.

Ayla was praying her Dhuhr prayer, her heart felt heavy. As she sat on her prayer mat, hands folded to make dua but the words got stuck in her throat.

"

Ya Allah, I'm not asking for grand gestures but for a companionship that leads me to you. A man who is closer to you, who follows the boundaries you've set. I'm leaving everything to you."

Her cousin helped her to get ready for the nikaah. She is wearing a decent dress for nikaah, her hair covered in a white hijab, her henna dark and beautiful.

-ON THE OTHER HAND-

Zuraiz stood in front of the mirror, dressed in an beige colour suit that highlighted his board shoulders, hair pushed back. He picked up the itar and applied it on his pulse points, neck and wrists. He looked at his reflection, lost in thought. He spoke in his heart.

"

Ya Allah, you're the maker of pairs in heaven. Whatever you've written from me, I'll accept it with an open heart. Make me the spouse my wife deserves. Bless us with your mercy and make this relation beautiful-"

His dua got interrupted by the sound of his bedroom door opening, his mother standing in the doorway, wearing a decent dress and a soft smile on her face.

"

Zuraiz? Are you ready? We're getting late, your father is hurrying, you know how he gets."

"

Yes, mom. I'm ready."

He said while wearing his wrist watch, tightening it around his wrist.

"

Mashallah. You've gotten so big that you're getting married."

His mother said with tears in her eyes.

"

Come on, mom. Don't cry. You should be happy that your idiot son is getting married."

He said trying to lighten the mood, a small smile dancing on his lips.

His mother walked towards him and swats his arm softly.

"

Idiot. Let's go or your father will come here and drag you by ear.

"

Zuraiz gasped and put his hands on his ear. "

Nooooo, my precious ears. Let's gooo."

He said making his mother laugh.

They made their way downstairs where his father was waiting.

"

Finally you both are here, i was about to come up."

His voice firm but gentle.

With that they sat in the car and the driver drove towards their destination.

Zuraiz Ahmed

was calm like a late-night dua. Grounded and sincere in his faith, he was the kind of man who chose Allah in silence, without needing to prove it to the world. His heart knew the path back to Allah, no matter how far life pulled him.

IN THE MOSQUE

Ayla was sitting on the couch, fidgeting her fingers, face was now veiled with a white embroidered cloth. Beside her was sitting Haya, whispering soothing words and occasionally doing Dua for her.

"

Allah will bless you with lots of goodness and happiness, my precious sister. May Allah open your naseeb and make your husband the way you prayed for. And if he ever make you cry? You call me, we'll beat him together."

Haya said, earning a soft giggle from Ayla.

Their moment got interrupted by the groom's family making entering in the mosque.

It wasn't grand, loud or dramatic but the way it should be. There was it. This was it. The moment of truth.

Zuraiz was walking towards her, gaze lowered. He sat in front of her. The flower wall is a barrier between them.

The room was quiet.

Not silent, but filled with a kind of peace that only comes when something is blessed.

Ayla sat with her hands gently clasped, heart steady in a way she never thought it could be again. This wasn’t the same girl who once cried herself to sleep.

On the other side, Zuraiz sat with a lowered gaze, his heart making a quiet dua:

“

Ya Allah… if she is good for my deen, write her for me with barakah.”

Qazi Sahab broke the silence.

"

Do you accept Ayla Fatima, daughter of Mohammad Waleed Khan, in marriage?"

“

Do you accept?”

A soft pause.

“

I accept

.”

Once.

“I accept

.”

Twice.

“

I accept.”

Thrice.

Zuraiz felt a sense of peace settling over him, a feeling telling him that he did something right, like he was made for her.

The Qazi moved to Ayla.

“

Do you accept Zuraiz Ahmed, son of Mansoor Ahmed, in marriage?”

Ayla's heart rested in trust, in Allah, in herself, in him.

“I accept

.”

Once.

“

I accept.”

Twice.

“

I accept.”

Thrice.

A pause.

And just like that,two strangers became halal for each other. Not through love stories written by people, but through a promise written by Allah.

Then everyone started congratulating each other but Ayla and Zuraiz sat where they were. Silent. Peaceful. Like they're trying to feel this.

Zuraiz stood carefully, parting the flower wall with gentle ease. He stood in front of Ayla for a moment and then sat on his knees.

"May i?"

He asked for her permission to lift her veil. Ayla stilled for a second then nodded.

His hand shook slightly as he lifted her veil, revealing her beautiful face to him. He froze, like he couldn't believe that this was his wife, his better half, his spouse. He couldn't believe that she was his now.

“Mashallah.” Was the only word he could say. A soft blush spread across Ayla's cheeks.

He extended his hand for her to take, Ayla hesitated first but then she took his hand and stood up with him.

She looked at him and realised, he was the answer to a dua she made. She lowered her gaze and whispered,

“Alhamdulillah.”

He took her towards the praying area and said , “Ready for our first prayer together?"

"Yes, I am."

Zuraiz smiled and they both stood for prayer. Zuraiz stood ahead and Ayla was behind him. The prayer started and the world around them faded. Just them and.....Allah.

After prayer they both sat to make dua. Ayla spoke under her breath,

“Ya Rabb… write our names together not just in this dunya…

but among those who reunite in Jannah.”

Zuraiz followed with his dua,

“Ya Rabb… let me be her peace in this dunya…

and her companion in Jannah.”

They both looked at each other and smiled. And with that, they completed eachother's deen.

----

With one path, two hearts became halal…

not just in this dunya, but written together by Allah.