Inked Love (A Muslim Love Story)

Not Promised Future

Sura 4 - An-Nisa (MADINA): Verse 17

The repentance accepted by Allah is only for those who do wrong in ignorance [or carelessness] and then repent soon after. It is those to whom Allah will turn in forgiveness, and Allah is ever Knowing and Wise.

Prologue:

Not Promised Future.

The telltale breeze wafted around the space, cloaking us in its cold and barren haze.

It was a perfect metaphor for our current predicament, I mused.

Cold and barren.

My shivering arms encircled around my Abaya draped frame, I could feel my palms turning numb against the touch of my long, warm mantle.

Had I never felt so cold and forlorn in an airport than now, this moment.

Amidst the sea of passengers crowding the waiting room, I looked for any familiar faces to save me from feeling foreign in this vast yet packed section of the airport.

But all I got was uncertainty looming over them.

Amazed a little and worried a fraction, I leaned back in my seat, arms crossed, my eyes closed.

I took a deep breath in, my lips twitching a little to comprehend the drastic change conspired in the due of few days.

A few months ago, I was a girl who was restricted from leaving her home alone once the sun had touched the sea and Maghrib Adhaan had echoed around the streets.

And now, I was sitting in an airport, foreign people surrounded around me, with not a single soul known to me, in a foreign country, and far away from safety confine of my home and city. All alone.

Indeed, a tale my mother would love to reprimand me about.

The thought of my mother and homeland sifted, and soon my mind was preoccupied with the scene occurred a few minutes ago in front of my sight.

I pressed my lips, my fisted fingers tightened around my arms. It was quite normal for mishaps to happen during a flight.

Yet, it would have been a little less bothering, had it been happened to someone who wasn't sitting next to me and talking to me for hours like a close acquaintance, despite our short duration of being known to each other.

One minute she was lively and safe, talking to me as if we had been friends for years. The next minute, she was cold and blue, as if oxygen had been sucked out of her.

"Assallaamu Alaikum," I heard someone whispering close to me, and felt a gentle hand placed on my shoulder.

I jumped a little under the foreign touch and opened my eyes, adjusting to the streak of bright light.

With a blurred vision, blinking a couple of times, I managed to outline a petite woman standing in front of me. She was carrying a little girl in her arms.

I smiled, though uncertain to see a stranger being welcoming and warm towards me. "Wa Alaikum salaam."

Taking a seat beside me, the woman shifted her daughter to her other arm before turning to look at me with a broad smile. "If you don't mind me sitting next to you," She voiced out, probably sensing my alarmed state. "Am Aliya, by the way."

"Aziza here."

Given my introvert self, I wasn't really looking forward to having a friendly conversation with a mere stranger now.