A Match Made In Jannah

Chapter 52

NABEEL'S POV

The call from Danyaal caught me by surprise. I had expected good news, or if it was bad news, not something so drastic. Danyaal had told me what his father had done to Maariah. I clenched my fists and banged them against the dashboard when I thought about it, because he had not only endangered Maariah's health , but the life of her child. Our child.

Instead of her father being supportive and forgiving, he had thrown her to the wolves and I was left with the task of saving her. I had been driving around the town for almost two hours now, in an attempt to spot Maariah on the road and take her to safety. My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out; Husna's name flashed on the screen.

Husna: Where are you?

Me: Why do you want to know?

Husna: Thanks for being so cold, Nabeel. I need to speak to you.

Me: Yeah right, like your parents would allow that.

Husna: Nabeel! I'm the one that's supposed to be cold and upset, yet you're treating me like this. Yes, my parents will, because I'm going to tell them about you and Maariah.

Me: You tell them ANYTHING and watch what I will do to you.

Husna: I can't hide this from my parents. It's okay Nabeel, I'm not angry with you. I know that you didn't do anything. You don't have to worry about that. I'm just a tad bit upset, but we'll get through this. I'm not angry, so come home.

Me: You're not angry with me, huh? Well guess what? I'm angry with you! How dare you just let Maariah's father throw her out? With my baby! Look, I don't need to be having this conversation with you right now. Think about what you did.

Husna: What do you mean I must think about what I did? I didn't do anything! You made Maariah pregnant, even if it was a mistake, and I'm ready to take you back. Why are you treating me like crap then, huh?

I slipped my phone back into my pocket and didn't answer. She wasn't worth my time at the moment. She needed to learn to be a good friend. What kind of friend abandons her best friend when she needs her the most? Of course I'd forgive Husna at some point, but right now she needed to learn her lesson, and by speaking to her I was making it seem okay.

A car swerved into my lane and I slammed onto the brakes while pressing my horn. The "beeeeeeeeeeep" resounded long and hard and drowned out my screams of, "Damn you, Husna."

After another half an hour of frivolous driving, I decided to stop and take a rest. I was already on the outskirts of Morningville, and my hopes of finding Maariah began dwindling. All sorts of terrible thoughts rushed to my head.

Maybe she was so absorbed in her misery that she didn't bother to check as she crossed the road, and had been knocked by a car.

Maybe she had been raped.

Maybe she had been murdered.

Maybe she had been raped and murdered.

Maybe she was lying on the side of the road bleeding to death.

Maybe she had miscarried and was in immense pain that would cause her demise.

"Stop it Nabeel," I reprimanded myself. "She's okay. Of course she's okay. South Africa isn't such a terrifying place."  I laughed at the irony. South Africa was notorious for its reputation as the country with the highest rape, murder and crime rate.

I hopped off at the nearest 24 Hour Engine Garage Shop and ordered a latte. "Extra sugar please," I requested. The waitress nodded and turned to make the coffee. "Add extra goddamn caffeine too so I go on a high," I muttered under my breath.

I couldn't stand the stuffy atmosphere of the shop, even though it was deserted. "Ya Allah. Keep Maariah safe," I prayed. Suddenly, the thought entered my head that there was a Masjid only a few metres from the garage. I thanked the waitress and pushed her a large tip with the bill and then left for the Masjid.

I entered the Masjid and immediately fell prostrate before Allah.

"Ya Allah. Keep my baby safe. Ya Allah bless him. Ya Allah, don't ever make him go through what I am now. Ya Allah, be with them, ya Allah," I prayed over and over again.

Then I sat in complete and utter silence while I contemplated the attributes of my Lord and his perfection. Suddenly, the sound of soft, feminine sobs interrupted my train of thought.

I tiptoed to the open door that led to the ladies' section, and peered inside.

I gasped and then whispered tentatively. "Maariah?"

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AUTHOR'S NOTE

OMA GUYS we're at 170 in spiritual!!! Hopefully it stays this way! This was dedicated to every one of you amazing readers that comment on the chapters and make me feel like my book is an actual success. I love you guys and you are always in my duas. Always. (And thanks for making me write this mid-exams)

Also, maaf for being so late with the post. However, due to exams and Ramadan, I'm going to be posting a lot less. This means that there will be two posts a week and all others will be a bonus, if I'm feeling like it. I need to concentrate on my Quran and Islaah, and I'm sure you understand.

Once again, I love you guys so much 😘