"Whosoever loves for Allah, and hates for Allah, and gives for Allah, and withholds for Allah, has perfected faith."
(Hadith — Abu Dawood)
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Sunday Morning, Nur Afiya – Fawas's Family Compound
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The faint crackle of early radio voices from a neighbor's courtyard drifted through the house as Fawas padded barefoot down the stairs, cotton kaftan clinging loose to his broad frame, sleep still tugging at his eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck and yawned as he crossed the corridor, the floor cool beneath his feet.
Down the hall, the door to the guest room was already open.
Jamal sat on his bed, fully dressed in pale grey, miswak tucked into the hem of his sleeve. eyes seriously searching through his phone. with that same tight focus Fawas remembered from when they were kids. Like he was searching for something he missed on his journey.
"You're dressed already?" Fawas said, stepping into the visitor's room.
Jamal didn't look up. "Sleep didn't linger."
Fawas leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "And you didn't even knock to wake a brother. I thought we'd go together."
Jamal dropped his phone now, a small smile tracing his lips. "I wasn't sure if you'd still want to."
Fawas snorted. "After seven years, Jamal? You show up out of the blue, carrying silence like a second skin, and I shouldn't want to walk with you to the Shaykh?"
Jamal said nothing, only stood and straightened his sleeves.
Fawas stepped into the room fully, eyes scanning his friend. "You're different."
"Mmm Mmm. So I've heard."
"And, where have you been all these years?" Fawas asked, this time softer, crossing to sit on the armrest.
Jamal hesitated. Then adjusted on the bed, this time facing Fawas.
"I went from Iqbal to Yelwa. Tried to disappear. Manual labor, odd jobs."
"Damn," Fawas muttered.
Fawas leaned forward, elbows on knees now" is that the end? or there's more to the Canaan trip?"
Jamal's gaze dropped to the rug. "Ha ha. not really, I ended up in Al-Mahrak."
Fawas blinked. "That border town with the salt plains?"
Jamal nodded once. "Dust and bone. A city that changes people."
"What were you doing there?"
A beat passed. Then Jamal answered, voice low. "Everything. And nothing.
I loaded trucks, delivered goods for merchants who never smiled and paid little. The place... it had a kind of hunger.
Striving through a community where the strength of your faith is tested on a daily basis." He straightened. "Then, I taught Qur'an in a madrasah. For six months."
"Wow, it must've been an arduous journey..." Fawas added, like trying to water the conversation.
Jamal stood up and turned toward the window, fingers absently brushing the curtain lace as light filtered through.
"I realized Those were just tip of it when I met Sofiya." he paused and shook his head like he just remembered something terrible.
"...I met her through her father, Ustaz Hamid," he said at last. "Not a cleric, he was a craftsman. Taught me how to work with wood, how to build with intention. He was the one who brought me to the madrasah in the first place. Said they needed a Qur'an teacher who wasn't too rigid, who understood balance."
Fawas nodded slowly. "Was the teaching a success?"
"For a while, yes. It felt right at first. The children were eager, the mosque quiet. And she... she was different."
Fawas's brow rose. "And you left Qur'an teaching for carpentry?"
"I was doing both at first. Mornings in the madrasah, afternoons in the shed. Ustaz believed everyone should earn with their hands, even if they teach with their tongues. He didn't talk much, but when he did, it was the kind of talk that made you sit up straight."
"And the daughter?"
"She was different," Jamal said. "Not loud. Not timid. She'd pass through the workshop sometimes, ask strange questions. Deep ones. She'd sit under the neem tree and talk about timelines, soul fragments, fate."
He smiled, soft but worn. "At first, I thought we were just compatible. Then it felt deeper. Like maybe God was giving me a second chance. We got close. But I never rushed. She said she wasn't ready for intimacy. I respected that. I believed waiting made it more sincere. Moreover, she was still younger than me."
Fawas shifted. "But it didn't go as you expected."
Jamal let out a breath through his nose. "Not even close. After nearly two years of being... something, I still can't define what we were. She left. Said she didn't feel the same anymore. That I was too much like her father. Too still. Too safe."
Fawas winced.
"She fell for someone else. Quicker. Flashier. Louder," Jamal continued. "And when she left, it was like she took the narrative with her. The whole story I had written in my head. Gone."
"You stayed with Ustaz?"
Jamal nodded. "He never blamed me. Just handed me more work. More silence. More space to find myself. He'd say things like, 'Wood has its own mood, Jamal. You have to learn to listen before you carve.'"
Fawas smiled. "Wise man."
"He is. He showed me how to live when your heart's not fully beating. Taught me how to shape more than furniture. Taught me patience. Purpose. Pain, too. He said, every turn we take in life, has a purpose."
But what was the purpose of such a tragic heartbreak?
Was it divine orchestration? Or A test of fate.
"And then the dream?" Jamal cleared his throat and continued. His voice dropping a shade. " Fourth year into my journey, after she left. At a Laylatul Qadr. during tahajjud. Deep into prayer. Then I saw her. Not the one who left. someone else. Dressed in flowing white, veil over her face. Standing across a river."
"I ignored it, Brushed it off. Hallucination or perhaps, illusion. But after that night, the signs started showing up. Random ayahs that struck too deep. Repeated numbers. Old people mentioning names I'd never told anyone but resonates deeply within my soul."
Fawas nodded slowly, his earlier grin now subdued.
"I stayed for three more years. Kept working. Kept praying. But it felt like I was waiting for something I couldn't name. Eventually I knew... the answer wasn't there."
"And that's why you came back." Fawas quipped.
Jamal nodded, his voice calm, but carrying a weight just beneath the surface. "To meet the Shaykh. He saw me before all this. Before the stains. Maybe he still can..."
"I believe… because Allah knows I have nowhere else to turn. I could've joined them in what they do, chasing wealth through strange, soulless means. Merging my spirit with that of many others through unlawful acts. But I didn't. Their world felt heavy, hollow. I think that was why he revealed that vision to me. wanting me to take another path."
The room held silence, not heavy this time, but reverent. Like both men were standing on the shore of something neither could fully see.
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Jamal sat near the window, posture composed, like someone carrying both silence and purpose.
Fawas broke the silence. "You're telling me you travelled for 13hours to see the shaykh because of a vision or a dream? is that even a reason to want to see the shaykh?" Fawas asked, his tone only half-mocking.
Jamal didn't rise to it. "Not just that. Because of everything after the dream."
Fawas raised an eyebrow. "So now it's numbers and fragrances and Qur'anic déjà vu?"
Jamal looked at him, calm. "Have you ever had your soul speak to you..."
Fawas chuckled. "That's not a soul, bro. That's guilt. Or hunger."
Jamal smiled faintly. "Maybe. But this isn't hunger. It's a thread. I don't know where it's pulling, or what I'll find with the Shaykh. I just know the signs haven't been dark. They've been... luminous. Quiet. Alive."
Fawas gave a skeptical look. "So you're following a woman you've never seen clearly, who said nothing, in a dream during tahajjud, and you're hoping an old Sufi can decode it?"
"I'm not hoping," Jamal said, voice low. "I'm listening."
There was a pause. The sound of birds outside.
"I don't know what I'll meet with the Shaykh," he added, softer now. "Maybe he'll call it illusion. But something in me knows this isn't madness. The signs weren't haunting. They were healing. That's why I'm following this thread."
Fawas tilted his head. "What if it leads nowhere?"
"Then I'll have obeyed something sacred."
Fawas studied him for a moment, then shook his head with a crooked grin. "Wallahi, you haven't even finished sorting your past, and now you're chasing veiled women in your dreams. I hope the Shaykh has spiritual WiFi. Maybe he can search up her destiny coordinates."
Jamal laughed gently, then stood. "Even if he can't, I trust him to help me listen better."
Fawas straightened as well, stretching his arms above his head. "I'm coming with you. But if he says you're soul-bonded to a jinn princess from Riverland, I'm out."
"Fair."
They both moved toward the hallway, the cold tile slapping their feet.
Jamal's heart beat steady. He didn't know if the Shaykh would affirm or unravel his yearning, but the pull hadn't brought him pain.
Only remembrance.
That was enough... for now.
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The courtyard cat gave a lazy stretch as the door creaked open. Fawas stepped out first, keys in hand. Jamal followed, went straight and opened the iron gate as Fawas reversed the sleek grey Camry onto the quiet street.
The morning was soft, muted sun behind cloud-silk skies, the air thick with dew and the scent of hibiscus from a neighbor's fence. The kind of morning that made Nur Afiya feel gentle, even when it wasn't.
Jamal shut the gate behind them and climbed into the passenger seat.
Silence, then ignition.
They pulled onto the main road, the tires humming low against gravel as early vendors swept the fronts of their stalls with dry brooms.
"You asked about Baba," Fawas said, as if continuing from yesterday. "Let me tell you before we reach the Shaykh and my heart switches tone."
Jamal nodded slightly, eyes ahead.
"It was In Bataleya," Fawas said. "That foreign one. Him and Waziri. Told my mum it was just vacation... boys' time, peace of mind, that kind of story. She even offered to go along. He refused."
He gave a joyless laugh.
"But Waziri had a plan. Dirty business. Hired boys before they even left the country. Baba didn't know, at least that's what he said in court."
Jamal glanced at him now.
"Gunfire broke out at a deal location. International police stormed the area. Waziri tried to run. Got gunned down on the spot. The rest of the boys were caught."
He tapped his forehead.
"They found Baba's documents. Bank files, shipment permits, international clearance forms. His name was on almost everything. Everything."
A long breath escaped Jamal.
"They tried him?"
"In their court. Bataleya's court. Me and Mama flew there. Sat through the trial like guests at a funeral. Thirty-three years, no parole till eighteen."
Jamal looked at him, then lowered his gaze.
"They seized everything. All the houses. The lands. His accounts. They only left this house, the one we just came out from. Because he willed it to me long before he was apprehended, when I turned 25."
Jamal swallowed hard. "Your mum?"
"Left Nur Afiya. Too much shame. They blamed her. Women at the masjid wouldn't answer her salām. Kids mocked her in the market. Like she held the briefcase during the deal. But I know everything she faced was because of baba."
He blinked, staring at the road.
"Funny thing is," he added, voice bitter, "Baba was a tyrant in this town. Everyone feared him. When news spread, people started calling it divine justice. Like their own prayer was answered with cuffs."
A silence settled between them, heavy like storm clouds.
Jamal finally spoke, his voice quiet but sure.
"But whoever pardons and makes reconciliation, his reward is 'due' from Allah. Indeed, He does not like wrongdoers."
Fawas's knuckles tightened on the steering. "You still quote Qur'an like you're guiding jinn."
Jamal's lips curved. "I pray Allah keep him and Mama safe wherever they are."
Fawas breathed in deep, then let it go with a smirk. "Amin Ya Rabb. Enough sorrow talk my brother. I can feel it starting to crust my lungs."
He turned down a familiar lane when he suddenly slowed the car.
The silence stretched. Then.
"Lol… You know," Fawas said, suddenly shifting tone, "nothing much I've been doing myself though. Jumping between jobs until I landed one at the company of Baba's old friend. Call it compensation… pity… I don't know. But it's kept the lights on."
Jamal nodded, eyes thoughtful. "good to see things has been working pretty fine. Alhamdulillah." He tapped Fawas' shoulder.
Fawas grinned, easing the wheel gently. "Also… women."
Jamal gave a sidelong glance. "Still?"
"What can I say? They're the only spice I've got time for. And trouble."
Jamal's tone didn't change. "You remember what I said last night?"
Fawas groaned. "Don't bring your dream-girl sermon in again.."
But Jamal smiled softly, then quoted:
'Do not approach unlawful intimacy. It is ever an immorality, and evil as a way.'
Fawas snorted. "And what if I like being a tapestry, hm?"
"You'll end up woven with ghosts," Jamal replied.
The car eased forward as silence returned.
Then Fawas pointed out of nowhere. "Look at that."
Jamal followed his line of sight.
Ahead, a compound gate stood open. A barefoot boy ran out chasing a homemade tire with a stick. The gates; welded iron, rust-kissed at the bottom, had always been that way. Open. Alive. The scent of history soaked into the sand.
Fawas's eyes lit up. "That's Zulai's compound."
Jamal straightened in his seat. "Zulai?"
"I almost forgot. I haven't seen him in what... three years?" Fawas tapped the brake and began pulling over. "The last time I saw him, Baba hadn't even been arrested."
He parked the car besides a fence. "If he hears you returned and didn't greet him, he'll storm the Shaykh's hut himself."
Jamal smirked. "Let's avoid that."
They both stepped down from the car, walked towards the open gate.
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