Lovebirds

twenty-five

Naira spent a while in her prayers, taking her time to reflect on the changes that passed her life like seasons. She stood in worship, remembering the peace that only Allah could bring even in chaos. Through the crackling thunder and turbulent waves, the calm came from her acts of worship, her prayer, her remembrance. 

Ya Allah, I ask for your guidance. I ask that You keep me off the wrong path. I ask that You uncover the blinds from my eyes so that I may see the truth of what I was meant to do in this life. 

Tears brimmed her eyes as she continued to whisper the words of Allah, continued to recite through the pain that lingered in her chest. There were so many expectations of her, and Naira drowned in the voices that surrounded her, at the critics that insulted her, and the love her family and friends always provided. 

For some reason, the words of the critics rang louder to the point where her father's words would fall on deaf ears, that her mother's struggles blurred in the background. 

I need to be strong. 

Even if her destiny was unknown to her, she knew that with Allah in her heart she could accomplish anything. She would not give into their taunts, not when her parents sacrificed so much in their youth to bring Daris and Naira into this world. 

Her father abandoned his wealth to follow his deen (religion). Her mother fought through bigotry to make an imprint in journalism. Her maternal grandparents left Bangladesh to give their kids a better life even if it meant moving thousands of miles away from their families. 

They walked on a path marred by difficulties, full of aches, full of tears, but at the end of that path she saw the light that blinked back at her as if it beckoned for her to come after it faster. 

Every person in this dunya (world) had their own paths to walk on. Sometimes they entwined like the way it did for her parents, and sometimes it diverged like it did for her father and grandfather. She saw those parallels with heightened eyes. 

Ya Allah, keep me on Your path. Let me stay true to my faith even when others criticize me. Let me be strong. 

She whispered her duaa (small prayer) into the palms of her hand before standing to her feet. It felt as if a weight was lifted from her chest, as if her broken wings healed and she was ready to fly into an endless, cerulean sky. 

A small smile graced her lips, and she began to fold her prayer mat, setting it in a specialized drawer within her office desk. She could only imagine the mischief the boys were making downstairs in the lobby. 

Only a few employees were still at the office, but they had upcoming investor deadlines to meet instead of worrying about the Red Knights. In fact, her grandfather was probably talking to his secretary about it given how successful the concert tonight was. 

She walked out of her office, pausing in front of the dark doors where her grandfather sat behind. His voice rumbled through, clearly in a phone meeting with someone, and she wondered if it hurt him to spend more time with his work than with his family. 

Naira still had to give him some of the reports, but she didn't want to interfere with his work. It was a busy time for the company, more than usual. Heck, Naira deserved a break, so her paperwork could wait another day. 

Just as she turned the corner towards the elevators, she was passing one of the bathrooms when a strangled groan came from the inside, followed by the sound of choking as if someone was hurling. 

Being the nosy person she was, Naira leaned in closer, hearing the same sounds again. Either someone was getting beat up or they were really sick.