Little by little, the tears run dry.

You and I'll make history cry.

Years of sadness isn't worth it;

it's all a delusion, without much purpose.

Do not despair in His mercy;

do not abide yourself with the satanic activity.

Your hearts were once torn apart

but His love will heal once kept to guard.

Deserted children giggled, a heartwarming smile on their mouths. Patting one's shoulder and stroking the other's hair, her diamond eyes twinkled with felicity. A child was the most special blessing upon mankind, yet here were these lovable smiles, broken and abandoned.

Willingly, Zoya visited the local masjid, two streets away from her house, to meet these darling children who were neglected and unwanted by their parents.

How did parents have the guts to do that? How could they? Why even give birth if you can't handle it? Zoya remained questioning.

She had discovered the place in her early teenage years, and loved to visit every single Friday. At first, it was a graveyard; swamped in sadness, drowned in pain.

She hated their gazes flooded in despair; the frowns which were supposed to be melodies of giggles. They should've giggled and laughed and loved and jumped around. But the kids here were walking corpses.

First day onwards, she swore to uplift their spirits and flavor their journeys.

She started buying them little playthings which children of today would throw away. At the beginning, everyone was quietly staring at the awkward girl. Soon, the youngsters in the orphanage would eagerly wait for her. They looked at her irritatedly and ignored her when she arrived, but the eyes always remained glued to the clocks: when would the handle tick and when would it be twelve; when would she arrive and speak some more.

Eventually, she won their hearts over.

Normally, she distributed food, toys and minor instruments just to see their smile widen at her; however, today was extra special.

Earlier, Naimat had called and given her the great news about her marrying Ehsan. When Zoya found out, she dropped her flip phone, gushing in overwhelming joy and fell to her bed in madness. She prayed two raka'at to thank Allah for putting this acceptance in their hearts.

So today, not only was she giving out toys, she was also giving away her old clothes.

All the girls crowded Zoya and stood in eager lines.

"Salam, Layl. I got you this." Zoya caressed Layl's cheeks and kissed the girl on the forehead. Layl always had a broad smile on her face, with or without precious things. Zoya handed her the sparkling baby blue dress.

In the moment's ecstasy, Layl's brown eyes widened, and she flashed Zoya the brightest most massive smile ever. The smile struck Zoya straight into the cords of her heart and unintentionally, her lips twisted upwards in joy; the joy was the sweetest one she had ever experienced. She was suddenly the thirteen year old girl again, entering this new orphanage, overly excited to love these little kids.

Zoya's hands were completely empty and the crowd had deadened when she caught sight of Maya leaning against the back entrance of the masjid. Maya wasn't one who really liked to play with the materialistic objects. She had always been very unique. Maya was a very closed off girl, never bothering to speak much. It reminded Zoya of someone she spent her childhood with; someone she admired and someone she missed deeply.

The only thing Zoya knew about Maya was her love for books. Maya adored books and practically took care of them as if it were a mother's baby.

So today, Zoya brought her the Quran with understandable English translation.

Zoya creeped behind her and found her reading a book placed on her lap. She scanned through some words and realized it was none other than 'To Kill A Mocking Bird' by Harper Lee. Zoya had gifted the thrilling, social drama to her on her fifteenth birthday.

"Hey Belles, what's up girl?" Everyone in the Masjid was nicknamed after a certain Disney movie character. Maya was Belle since she was an independent girl with ambitions striking above the heavens and prioritized reading and learning over the fun things. She was a rarity!

Maya's unwavering gaze swiped from the coarse pages of the novel. When she registered Zoya's presence, she sprung up to embrace her.

"Alhamdulillah, Mushu!" Uh, yeah. You've heard it right folks: it is Mushu that sluggish, impulsive dragon indeed! Zoya didn't admire Mushu only because he was Mulan's sidekick, but she cherished his crazy-cocky-capricious personality. He was loud and extremely confident; basically, everything Zoya reflected minus the overconfidence

"What's that! Is it a new book for me? Please, please let it be," she plead.

Zoya lightly giggled and settled next to her on the staircase. Filled with excitement, she lifted the cover. Her gaze read the words in the very beginning.

"Quran! You finally got me the translation!" Zoya ruffled her hair and smiled, her eyes reflecting an unforgettable warmth.

Unfortunately, the children weren't taught much about the holy Quran or the Ahadith even though they were living in a Masjid. They obviously knew the basics but nothing very detailed.

"Yes. I believe you're old enough to read Allah's book with meanings. I've given you this because I trust you to be sincere with Allah's words. Understand them and if you have any questions hit me up, Belle."

The happiness in Mays's eyes broadened, and she tackled Zoya into a warm hug. Zoya stared at the shine in her eyes for too long. She wasn't sure why, but her heart was pounding in joy just by looking at her all happy.

"Thank you! I can't wait," she told her.

||__||

Every time her thoughts wandered back to her father's problems, she struggled to breathe.

She trusted Allah with everything she had. But after all, she was a weak, powerless human being. She was scared for her father's health. That man never learned to stay home and simply rest. That meant giving up, and her father never could. He always worked harder each day. She was scared for this unnatural situation.

Also, Zoya was aware how torn he must've felt when he told her to get married. Marriage is supposed to be a loved relationship only done when you're ready. Nadeem, her father, must've dreamt to let her study and decide herself to when to get married. Now, the circumstances has led him to beg for his daughter's approval.

Zoya flung the blanket off of her with frustration painted on her features. Her father wanted her to marry. Zoya had never thought about marriage before establishing a career and achieving her goals. Marriage was always after a career on her aim's list. But now, after her father's request, she was forced to consider marriage.

Zoya didn't dislike marrying. Why would she? Marriage would complete her Deen and fulfill her dreams to have a man who cared for her. But she never imagined it happening so hastily.

After taking a lengthy shower, Zoya dressed up in a black collarless shirt with plaid jeans underneath. As she brushed her ambur hair, she heard the rap on her door.

"Yes?" She called back.

"Zoe, mama wants you down. There are people coming over if you haven't forgotten," Bilal spoke, breaking her stream of thoughts.

She sighed, annoyed at the world for bringing this situation onto her. She restlessly braided her hair, then wrapped her flower's print black hijab around her head. Unexpectedly, her phone began to ring. She viewed the callers ID only to see "Naim" written.

Zoya hesitantly pressed the green callers sign.

"What were you thinking going through this ton of wreck all by yourself. Am I a nobody to you anymore? Why didn't you let me know!"

Naturally, a conversation begins with two friends greeting one another, asking about their health, but Naimat and Zoya's relationship was quite different.

It was easy.

Zoya felt her throat tighten and her heart swelled in grief. Her eyes began to pour the tears she had stopped from before and she sobbed aloud to Naimat . She dropped to her bed as she wept.

Naimat had never heard Zoya so broken other than the night when Zoya lost someone very close to her, long ago. Naimat tried to remain strong for the both of them and uttered a few words of comfort, but nothing seemed to help.

There was a limit to Naimat's patience. And ever so slowly, the limit shattered. Naimat dropped to the bed with the phone clutched painfully tight to her ear and began to sob with her best friend. Nothing was as painful as it was to see someone really you love suffering.

"I-I can't, Naim! I'm broken. My dad, he's broken! I can't see him like this. He's not himself anymore. He doesn't eat, doesn't smile. He's always just staring at the blank walls when I'm weeping for him to look at me. I want him to share his troubles, to give relief to his heavy heart. I don't care if I'm unable to study or be a damn cardiologist if my father will lose the glint of hopefulness in his eyes. If he wants me to marry, I will, happily. But he's still blank, ready to send me off and away from him."

Zoya wept loudly. She was miserable.

"I need my father! I need Allah's help! I need this ache in my chest to go away; the grief on my father's face for not giving me all the happiness in the world to erase because all I want from him is a smile. I am not going to just leave him like this. He's strong and brave. But nowadays, he's none of those. He mostly quiet, unhappy."

Naimat quietly listened to her as she cried her heart out. She then began to say,

"Zoe, your father is patient. I'm sure he's strong and undoubtedly brave. But sometimes, the circumstances we endure, leave us scarred or broken. Your father just needs time to heal. He wants to see you smile and cheer up to gain the hopefulness back. Trust me Zoe, it'll all be better."

Zoya sighed at the words. Obviously, she was sure it would all be better, but now hearing it from Naimat was like a burden off of her shoulder. She could now breathe better.

"Naim, I'm sorry for not letting you know. I just- I couldn't talk about it. My mind is messed up. I just-I just need him back," Zoya murmured, rubbing off the tears.

"And he will be back. Don't stress yourself with this. He'll soon recover and become himself." Again, a relief it was to hear that.

"T-Thank you. For being with me, even if on a phone call." It didn't feel right to weep and sob in front of Naimat, but now that she had, Zoya was glad. Naimat always comforted her in the best ways possible. She always said the right words at the right times.

"You silly girl, don't thank me. I'm just so sorry this happened, and I really want to help. Please let me know if you need anything at all. I mean, I will talk to you, but if you ever need any financial help, please just let me-"

"Shut up Naim. My father will soon, In Sha Allah, rise. I love that you care so much, but I don't want anything but your support and love."

"You'll always have that from me."

A sudden rap on the door made her head jerk towards it. Zoya said her goodbyes and voiced for the person to come in. For a minute, she was struck into the maze her brain had created when she couldn't think clearly. It was her father who had come in to her room after a span of weeks.

"B-Baba," she couldn't help but stutter. Now, every time she saw her father, she felt her throat tighten all over again and tears blurred her vision. But she controlled them.

He sent a smile towards his daughter and silently closed the door of the room. He began to take slow, heavy steps towards Zoya with arms folded behind. He always walked like that. Slow and calm.

As soon as he settled down next to his nervous daughter, Zoya sighed, sensing her father's lovely ithar's scent which he had brought from Saudi Arabia. The grassy eyes stared into her green ocean. He smiled lightly and patted her head.

"I won't lie to you, Zoya. But I heard everything about your conversation with Naimat."-Zoya's face paled as her eyes widened. She sat alarmed as if she was caught red handed cheating in the exams.

"Zoya, you're a very lovely daughter of mine. You understand the problems I share and you also give me happiness with your smart ideas."

Just few of those words were enough to cause her to break down. Her swollen eyes poured out as she quivered. She was well aware-her father never spoke too much. He always said what was to be needed, nothing useless. These words weren't only comforting, but they were true since they were coming from her father.

He rubbed the tears and kissed her forehead. "I'm not in pain, Zoe. I'm completely okay. I know it's hard for you to see me like this, but I'm relieved about the decision I have made. And I will never force you to marry just for the sake of my problems. I need your heart in this. If it doesn't seem right to seek proposals, then I'll never ask you to agree."

"Do what feels right."

Those words lifted the weight and dropped that burden off of her chest. She could finally feel air pass through her lungs without struggling.

"But there's one thing I can't do. I can't let you continue university. If I had the money, I wouldn't even think of it, but I'm incapable of it, Zoe. Forgive me for it-" Zoya sobbed harder as she threw her arms around her father's neck and snuggled into his cheek.

Midway through the sobs, she choked out few incoherent sentences. "Baba, I don't want to continue university. I'm perfectly fine with everything you've given me. Please don't ever ask forgiveness or be sorry about it. Allah (s.w.t) will never do something without a reason. Surely, Allah has better plans."

Nadeem couldn't have asked for a better daughter. That very moment, he knew how precious his Zoya was.