Accepted With Flaws

-Unseen scars -

Amr ibn 'Abasah reported: The Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him, said, "Allah Almighty said: My love is a right upon those who befriend each other for my sake. My love is a right upon those who defend each other for my sake."
(Sahih al Albani)

Luth's POV

I hurriedly leave home and hop into my car, eager to catch up with old friends at a nearby mall. There's something about driving that lifts my spirits.

As I drive, my thoughts drift back to my past. Honestly, I don't remember much about it, and I'd rather not dwell on it. The memories from my time in India used to be special, until things went awry. During my high school years, I attended an all-boys' convent school. I can still recall the constant warnings and stern looks I received for my mischievous escapades. I was simply one of those mischievous kids in the class.

One incident that remains etched in my mind is the time I placed a toy mouse on my math teacher's chair. Her reaction was absolutely priceless. In the aftermath, I was barred from entering the math class for a week. While she viewed it as a punishment, to me, it felt like a triumphant moment.

-Time Skip-

I took a bite from my chicken burger that I grabbed on my way to the mall, feeling a bit foolish for buying food beforehand. I couldn't resist though, as I was quite hungry. As I ate, my phone vibrated, and I set the burger down. "Assalamu alaikum akhi. We have arrived. Where are you?" Ansar asked. "Walaikum Assalam, bruh. I'm five minutes away," I responded over the phone. Ansar's voice hummed with impatience, "In sha Allah, we're waiting for you. Dude, you seriously need to work on being punctual." I could practically imagine him doing a sarcastic hand gesture while complaining. "Just hold your breath until I get there," I playfully retorted, snickering as I heard his scoff. I was sure he was rolling his eyes. "We'll run out of oxygen by the time you arrive," he quipped. "I'll be there soon, so stop whining!" I teased.

Ansar was a familiar face in our group. While he occasionally did silly things, he never fully engaged in the more adventurous activities with us. Always the teacher's pet and a top student, he had a reputation for being responsible. While I admitted to being a bit mischievous as a child, my teachers still appreciated me for who I was.

Even after I left India, Ansar and I remained close. He never judged me, even after learning about the challenges I'd faced. He was one of the few who helped me turn my life around. I silently thanked Allah for guiding me.

I turned right and parked in the mall's lot, then quickly headed inside. At the elevator, I spotted Mahira wearing a black abaya and sheila. As we entered together, I lowered my gaze out of respect. The elevator grew more crowded with each floor.

A man purposefully approached Mahira, attempting to bump into her. She glanced at him and quickly averted her eyes, clearly uncomfortable. Standing tall, I glared at the man and spoke firmly, "Keep your distance from my sister." He glanced at me warily before backing away. Mahira moved behind me, and I felt relief knowing she felt safe around me. "Shameless," I muttered under my breath.

When the elevator reached the fourth floor, I stepped out and headed for the food court. Just then, I heard someone calling my name. I turned around to see Mahira waving at me. I greeted her with respect, "Assalamu alaikum, Mahira." "Walaikum Salam," she replied. I suggested, "You can call me Bhai, Mahira." She shyly smiled, "Ji (Yes), I just wanted to thank you for helping me." I shook my head, dismissing her gratitude, "No need to thank me." She insisted, "It's not just about today." Puzzled, I asked, "Thank you for saving Aiza- I mean, Omaiza." My heart skipped a beat. "I would have done the same for anyone in her position," I assured her. Her eyes held a deeper meaning, suggesting there was more she wanted to share.

"Mahira, can I ask a favor as your older brother?" I inquired. After a brief pause, she nodded, "Yes, Bhai." I hesitated, "Is something troubling you? You're here for something important too." She nervously toyed with her nails, hesitating, "Um, I'm not sure if I can share it with you. And you must have your own matters to attend to." I studied her for a moment, contemplating whether I should go meet Ansar and the guys. But I couldn't leave her alone, especially after she called me "bhai." I texted Ansar, explaining the situation.

Once at the café, we sat opposite each other. I inquired, "What's on your mind, Mahira?" She mentioned, "I overheard my father and Uncle Abdurahman talking about me and Zaid." I signaled for her to continue, and she did. Her words reminded me of my younger sister, Fatimah. I missed her dearly. She exclaimed, "I can't get married!" I tried to calm her down, gesturing for her to relax, "Hey, it's alright. Take a deep breath." Concerned, I asked, "Mahira, are you discontent about Zaid?" She sobbed, "Bhai, I've put Omaiza through this. How could I betray her like this? She stood by me during everything. How can I abandon her?" Tears streamed down her face as she blamed herself. I tapped the table lightly to gain her attention, "Mahira, listen to me." She looked at me, her eyes teary. "You can't control Allah's plan. No one can." She took a shaky breath, "Ya Allah, grant her patience and strength." "Ameen," I whispered. "Remember, Allah never burdens a soul beyond its capacity." She nodded softly, "Yes, In sha Allah."

I gave her time to collect herself before offering a reassuring smile. Her upcoming marriage crossed my mind. "Mahira?" She prompted me to continue with a hum. "What if your engagement brings happiness to Omaiza? Maybe she could be included somehow." I knew I shouldn't assume, as Mahira already had her hands full. "She's not really into those things," she shrugged. "She always says she'll accept things as they come. Go with the flow, you know?" I nodded in understanding, taking a sip of my cappuccino.

"Do you think not marrying Zaid will change anything?" She seemed like she wanted to say something, but hesitated. I smiled, "I'll take that as a 'no.' Maybe the marriage will bring some joy, In sha Allah." Her frown eased, and it was nice to see her relax.

We finished our coffee and prepared to leave. I offered to drop her off, but she declined, mentioning she had shopping to do. I left her with a smile, watching her head to the hypermarket.

As I exited the mall and started driving, my thoughts lingered on Omaiza's stepmother. Although I didn't know her personally, I'd heard unpleasant things about her. The sky darkened, rain starting to drizzle on the windshield. It looked like it would be a long night.

Passing by the library where I first saw Omaiza, I quietly prayed that she wouldn't suffer any more than she already had.