B.❤.B 3- Crying in a Park

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*Ilhaam POV.*

"Neither do I." I say and she eyes me as I eye her back. She was clearly being fake polite, because she was being polite polite, she would just let it go. Ok, I can be rational about this can't I. I mean, my mum thought me better than fight in a shop for a pair of shoes. My Allah must be really disappointed with me right now. But what really pisses me off is her next move.

She passes a hand by my scarf and removes the pin from my hijab. "I think you pin fell from your hijab." She says handing me the pin with a huge smile on her face, I let the shoe go and take the pin from her hand my mouth forming a 'O'. That hit bottom rock, what kind of hijabi does that to another hijabi. I can never forgive that. Thou I have a thousand pins tucked in my hijab, just to be safe that it won't fall. My hijab is a dangerous place, boys ain't tryina touch it, it's armed.

"That was so low of you." I say shaking my head as I put the pin back on my hijab. She smirks at me and sits to a bench to try on the shoes. "But, that is not fair." I complain.

"Life is not fair, honey. You just have to accept it and move on to another shoe." She says smiling like a demon that she is, on top of that she honeys me. Me! She called me honey. And I was trying to keep my manners.

"Don't you 'honey' me." I warn already irritated.

She tries on the shoes, but her feet was too big. "What?" She says looking at the size of the shoe. "size thirty seven!" She exclaims.

"Come on, just for looking at the size of the shoe, it is obvious that your ogre feet won't fit."

"I will just ask for another size." She says in a forced smile. I Just stare at her frowning.

"I have been stalking this shoes the whole summer. There were just three pairs, and this is the last one." I say smirking at her and then snatch the shoes from her hand.
I'm size thirty eight, but thirty seven is not that far. I try to put the shoes on and she just laughs as the shoes were no fitting me.

"Fudge!" I exclaim giving up on trying to put the shoe on. I sit to the bench she is sitting on disappointed.

"Oh gosh, this shoes are cute." A girl says already taking it from my hand. "Thirty seven is just my number. Do you mind if I try?" She asks me and I just roll my eyes and exchange gazes with the hijab chick next to me.

"This sucks." She mutters. And I start observing the Overall she was wearing.

"OMG, Tell me this is a real Moschino?" I say mesmerized by the beauty of a Moschino out of the T.V.

"Do I look like I wear anything fake?" She says before standing up. Full of attitude, who does she think she is. You think that wearing that cloth around the head makes someone humble and closer to Allah, but then you find such stupid girls with nose up, just because Allah granted them better provision in Dunya. Some people just make me sick!

Money shows one's real colours at time. I shake my head out of the thought of the snobbish girl and make dua in my heart. 'ya Allah, please make some shoe miraculously appear that is my size. I'm sure there is one left that they forgot somewhere in the stock.' I pray, stupid right! But the imam once said that it's good to keep Allah in mind when going to do anything at all. Even if looking for a parking spot, making dua shows how mindful you are of your creator. Keep at all times the thought of allah in your heart will stop you from doing bad stuff too. If you are always remembering Allah, the moment you want something bad, you will think on Allah and you will remember that it's haram, detestable.

Don't know what that girl has in her chest to walk and talk with so much pride, but somebody should remind her. Not me, or maybe me... No I'd rather stay in my place quiet. I just argued with her over a pair of shoes. astaghfirullah. I was such an idiot. I should be glad I found someone with the same good taste as I have.

"Maaan, someone seems to have attitude issues." I murmur to myself pulling a face and then go look for another; because I'm not leaving without a new pair of shoes.

After two hours of walking around, I got a couple of dresses and jumpsuits, and of course nice comfy boots.

I start making my way to the bank, The pink hijabi thought that she would ruin my day, she just didn't. My phone beeps in my purse and I take it in my hand right away, thinking that maybe it's a text. But it's a notification from youtube, Islam in women page just posted a new video. They have been posting really inspiring videos. I'm eager to watch, but leave it for later maybe when I climb the bus back homme. I text Samantha on the way; she is colleague and one of the few that is really nice to me in school.

She tells me all the crazy stuff that she has been doing during the break. I'm caught distracted when someone just snatches my bag. "Hey!" I scream. And I panic instantly, the fee money. "Oh, shit." I start running after the guy.

I know it is not really smart of me, because the guy may have a knife or a gun. But nothing is more important than my college now. Ya Allah, please help me. I run after him until I lose him in the crowd, I wish my legs would race as much as my heart is racing now. Ya Rabbi, why did this have to happen to me today! Please aid me.

I stop and look around biting my nails and feeling like crying. I start making dua, suplication, Allah wouldn't let something as bad like this happen to me. I bend down supporting my hands on my knees, I try to breath and calm down, but it was not easy to breath now.

I say a prayer before standing upright and start walking, I kept telling myself to not panic.

Allah Muhaymin, is the Guardian.
Allah Al mu'min, is the Affirming.
Allah as-Sami, is the All Hearing; he can hear my grievious heart right now.
Allah Al Waliy, is the Helper.
Allah Ar_Ra'uf, is the Pitying; shall pity this poor soul that has no other way to pay for her university studies.

Never Have I felt so desperate before. I reach to a corner and see the guy that snatched the bag from me, searching my bag. "Hey!" I yell going towards me. I couldn't lose that chance to have my things back. He throws my bag to the ground and runs towards me shoving me aside. I hit the ground, when I look he was gone.

I stand up and reach for my bag, I check and then press my eyes shut to not cry. The money is gone. I start picking up all my stuff that he tossed to the floor, wishing for the time to go back and this be only a dream. I wake up in my pretty bed and start all over.
I walk away my mind heavy; I definitely did not know what to do. A'undhu billah, I seek refugee in Allah, I seek some answers. I planned and Allah planned best, maybe I forgot to say In sha Allah, humbling myself on refering to things that I intend on doing in the future.

I find myself sitting on a park bench when a tear slides down my cheek. I could not hide it any longer, I hide my face on my knees; my arms wrapped around. I didn't need anybody to see me crying, nobody could help me now but Allah, the same that let this robbery event take place, is the only one that can get me out of this mess safe. I supplicate none stop. I was thinking on how to tell my dad that I lost the money!
How could I? I should have made the payment first, and then go shopping. "Ya Allah, give me strength." I whisper to myself.

Suddenly someone tickles me. "Don't you cry, ladybird." The guy says and I jump and turn to see the tears-blurred male silhuette standing aside me, the image becomes clear and I look at the most beautiful hazelnut eyes; and I swear that I have never seen those before. 'Who the hell are you?' 'an angel?' If I didn't know that angels are part of the unseen, I would have sworen to have seen one. *sighs*.I wanted to ask, but the words never came to my vocal chords.
In case you didn't notice he just pinched me on my waist in a playful manner.

Creep Alert. Mission abort. Evacuate in 3...2...

"I'm...I'm." he tries. "I'm so-." ...1...I stand up before He could finish the sentence and run away from the creep. Who does he think he is?

"Hey." I hear him calling, but I won't go back there. God knows what he might do to me. The day went from weird to bad... not planning on having it worst.

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