Deen Queens

nineteen [asiya]

ASIYA

For the first time in a long time, Asiya felt perfectly content with her life.

She was working as hard as she could to barely scrape by and was getting paler by the day due to the stress of the bills piling up but nevertheless, her life was full of the peace she had been longing for.

Sofia had been doing fantastic without her oxygen supply, her dress designs were coming along beautifully, she'd been learning more about Islam by reading books borrowed from the mosque and she had three incredible friends that felt more like family. In fact, they were all meeting that very evening up at Becky's house for dinner.

The four girls had been talking on and off since the day they met, from sharing their lives over red velvet cupcakes and a prayer. But recently, the talks had gotten longer, the stories they shared getting deeper. Whilst Asiya hadn't told them exactly why she had ran away from her old life with Abram, she did tell them she had left her ex-husband. The girls had shared parts of their lives too, although she had an inkling they had barely scratched the surface.

The thought made her remember Layla's face that day in the hospital. Her heart constricted every time she thought of it; it just wasn't fair at all. Layla was only sixteen, but yet she carried herself with the grace of someone who had sixty years behind them. Although she had only known Layla a short while, she knew her heart would tear at the seams when the hopeful teenager reached the end. The other two girls had no idea of the evil lurking beneath the surface.

"Astaghfirullah." Asiya shuddered, scolding herself for thinking such a thing as her friends passing. She needed to be positive – after all, no terminal illness could possibly guarantee death. Death was held in the hands of her Lord, and not in the medical and nursing staff she had come to fall in love with. They did all they could but the very nature of life meant that was never a definite end in any diagnosis. After all, she believed in miracles and she believed in prayers just as much as she believed in medicine and therapy.

"Ya Allah, save her," she whispered, as she combed the wispy mahogany curls on Sofia's head, pushing the thoughts out of her mind once and for all. She was dressing her daughter to make their way to see the girls and the last thing she wanted was for her face to show Layla exactly what she was thinking about. Layla had entrusted her with something so momentous and it was only right to honour that trust.

Sofia gurgled, flinging some plastic blocks around as she creased the new dress her mother had just painstakingly ironed. Asiya pretended to be stern but inside she was beaming – Sofia's development had really picked up speed the second she was away from the monster that was her father. London had been good to them both.

As with most babies with Trisomy 21, her social development had always been fairly on par with her peers but it was the motor skills and the daunting task of walking that had been looming over their heads. But slowly, she was gaining more confidence, using her mother's hands to prop her body up slightly before slumping back to the ground in a puddle of defeat.

"All ready, mi corozon," she said, rubbing one hand over her daughters cheek as the clock ticked in the background. This would be the first time all four girls met up face-to-face again since their first meeting in the mosque and she didn't want to be late. Asiya was quite proud of herself however, for now knowing London fairly well enough in order to know where she would be going without having to consult Google Maps.

The weather was pretty good out, and both mother and daughter soaked in the soft sunshine as they walked down roads that had become familiar to them. Asiya couldn't help but love the fact that London was so busy, not many people stopped to stare at her daughters features or the pale blue hijab wrapped tightly around her head. Nobody cared and that was beautiful.