Because of the last chapter being short. And two weeks having past. I gift you another in one go.

"Are you Musa?"

The clouds around his brain blew away at the nurse's question. Raising his dried eyes, he meekly nodded, barely having the capacity to say a 'yes'.

"The patient is asking for you." The nurse continued, beckoning Musa to the door. "You may meet him. He's gained consciousness."

For a while, Musa did not move. The revelation was a shock out of the blue to him, and yet a curdling shyness ensued upon him. He glanced at Ambar's way and saw she did not react an inch.

Her eyes were lowered, her fingers tapping a string of rosary beads, and Musa wondered if she did not feel even a bit that he was called over to check on Rashid Murhani and she, being his daughter, was not.

"Are you sure he's calling for me?" Musa's voice was dry, due to the lack of water.

The nurse, her eyes darting between him and Ambar, at last, affirmed. "He is calling for you. Unless her name is Musa." she slithered sarcastically.

How sarcasm was not befitting the environment, but Musa could not blame the nurse. The nurse probably had it worse off seeing patients, than they did being flannelled once in a lifetime with fast-paced heartbeats.

"No," Musa got up to his feet, life strangely stretching his muscles. "My name is Musa."

"Well then, get inside." The nurse slapped the door a puff of air escaping her lips. She walked away, leaving Musa to reach for the doorknob.

The steel was cool like the way his chest ached. He twisted the knob and stepped inside the cubicle room, with fresh, strewn curtains around the bed pulled aside.

There was a lump of a body under the white sheets, the wrinkled brown hands laid aside with a tube tied to it. Musa stood back for a few seconds, trying to couple all of this- his own heart aching at a fast pace.

Amidst the machines and tubes, he saw his face. The eyes of moonlight never-dimming drooped back at him. Musa stepped forward at once, settling on a chair quietly.

"Asalamualaykum," Musa whispered, his eyes dodging to the ICU bedside monitors. The heart was pacing in a smooth rhythm. "Alhumdulillah, you're awake."

Rashid blinked up at Musa. His half-bald head laid back on the fluffy pillow, his eyes strained on Musa's face. "You've... grown," he croaked.

Musa could not help the light smile that took up his lips. "We've only met last month, sir-"

"-call me baba."

That took Musa by little surprise, for Rashid Murhani had scolded him lightly over this. Inhaling slowly, Musa rephrased. "-baba." -to which Rashid wearily smiled back.

"We've only.... met last month," Rashid's eyes followed the light overhead, a cloud taking over the rhythm of his words. "-And I don't have.... much months to look forward to now."

"Baba," Musa soaked the word inside, his voice stiffening. "You shouldn't say that- you'll live for sure-"

"Why is this supposed to hurt you?" Rashid questioned, the cloud flowing away till the sky in his eyes became clear as they met Musa's.

"Hurt me? Pfft. Of course, it hurts all of us," Musa tried to restrain himself, holding the sides of his chair tightly. "Your daughter out there is aching in pain. Yet you seem- you seem-"

"I seem...?" The same annoying, unmoved tone.

"You seem at peace." Musa hissed.

Silence ensued as both mentor and student broke away their gazes. Musa felt sickened with his own self to have confessed the pain in him. He wanted Rashid to try harder. To try living. To try expecting a breath or, two more.

They did say one's mental strength was what helped them to cope with diseases. But why was Rashid giving in already? Shouldn't Rashid be hopeful in Allah?

"I've seen so much destruction at my hands, Musa, that I'd rather embrace what Allah has decreed for me, then try to deny the reality," Rashid had spoken up, his voice hoarser and yet his words stronger.

Musa's gaze snapped towards Rashid. His hands loosened on his chair. "Destruction at your hands?" Musa repeated, baffled. "Please, you're the last person I could think of that would destroy anything, or, anyone."

Rashid did not say anything to that at once, his eyes raised to the light tubes again. The cloud fogging up deeply in his orbs, unseemingly, truthful. "I- Musa, I'm only human..." And as if someone had opened the pains of the past, Rashid continued with a tremor in his voice. "Please. Please, don't think me perfect."

Musa could not believe his eyes. The streams of water flowing out of Rashid's orbs washed reality over him that his mentor was actually crying.

"Sir? Baba?" Musa sat forward, taking Rashid's leathery hands tightly in his. Locking gazes with Rashid's teary ones. "What are you talking about? I- I know you're human, what makes you-"

Rashid's lips gagged, grasping for both words and breaths. His chest heaved up and down, and Musa was afraid this was too much pressure on his lungs. "Baba, calm down-"

Musa felt deja vu hit him, of how these very words seemed so familiar to his conscience.

"Baba...?" Musa crept inside Waseem's bedroom, pushing his face forward between the door gap.

No answer.

"Baba....?" Musa crawled in further, and he heard sniffs. Gags of breath. Musa turned his face towards the lump of a figure on the prayer mat, his father's shoulders shaking and his head slumped.

The smile fell of Musa's face like the dawn of a dark day. Seeing his father in such a state, holding a picture of a woman between his hands, pierced his heart as nothing else could.

"Baba, calm down..." Musa had said, reaching for Waseem's shoulder. A small hand, barely the size of his father's worked up ones, Musa felt a sensation of weakness bottle him.

"Musa... I- I'm not perfect," Waseem whispered- his gaze not leaving Sara's picture. "I only hope Allah forgives me."

"I made so many promises to her," Rashid's voice drawled in the background, and Musa could feel the cold sweat beading down his forehead. "I made promises that I would give her the life she deserved full of riches, love, and flowers."

Rashid clicked his tongue, as his gaze stared up at the ceiling, and Musa's own consciousness started following. "But I was wrong, wasn't I? I was an aspiring young man having my own aims- while she had completely different aims from me. I aspired for the next world, while her eyes were grazed on this one. I was too harsh, and she left the house, leaving Ambar with me."

Musa could see nothing but a boy, an innocent one, who had given a heart too big to fulfill and could fulfill neither his own nor hers. Musa found the regret spilling out his mentor's rasp tone, like ripened fruits falling from the tree stand.

"Musa, I could've been softer," Rashid continued, his eyes dodging on the ceiling. "I could've told her- 'Amina, please, pray, I beg of you. I want to see you in Jannah, habibti.' Or, I could've said, instead of glaring at her the way I did back then- 'Amina, you're beautiful. Please, cover yourself, you're His beautiful creation, not for everyone to see.'"

Musa listened on quietly, the tension on Rashid's face drawing his brows together. Musa saw clear remorse on Rashid's face.

"I could've told her," Rashid continued, weeping quietly. "I could've helped her, listened to her, and with encouragement brought her to Allah's Path. But no... instead she ran away from me. And Allah will question me now, of what I did to make His beautiful slave run away from His beautiful deen?"

The way Uncle made me run away from His deen.

"That night she left me and Ambar with a note, Musa," Rashid said, wearily, lifting his hands to rub away the tears. "You know what she wrote?"

Musa, not knowing what to say, shook his head.

"I still remember it, Musa. And if it weren't for her words, I don't think I would have been able to be who I am today. I used to be arrogant, claiming religion not as Allah's astaghfirullah, but as my own so much so that I was blinded from the truth even when one would tell me the reality. I would be stern on what I felt like, and easy to go on what I felt like while imposing everything else on others forgetting their state of faiths. And because of my immaturity, my wife left me, my family left me, and my daughter had to live through her years motherless. Amina wrote to me on the night she left that... 'Allah would question me.' Ever since then, Musa, I could not wipe these words away... and I feel like if I leave this world in this state, then I have no chance."

"But you do now," Musa perked up.

"How?"

Musa's voice solidified, holding his mentor's hand encouragingly. "Our Rabb is All-Forgiving. You didn't understand then, but now you do. And if that didn't happen, you would not have learned to become the God-fearing man you are today, and you wouldn't have been able to make me realize how much my past meant to me, and how much Appa meant to me. I wouldn't have healed the wounds of my heart. Now it's your turn to act on your own words. Try, sir. You must glue the shackles of your mistakes, and who knows? You might just do the one thing that allows you to breathe from the heart."

Rashid stared into space, with Musa's words spearing his heart. The world changed its course for him, the lights around the room seemed brighter, he knew that if he was still breathing then, it was because Allah was giving him a chance to make amends.

"Musa...?" Rashid said after a pause, not looking over at Musa.

"Yes?"

"I actually called you in here for something else."

"I'm listening..."

"It's- it's a request. More of a huge favor." Rashid's voice lowered, and his eyes flashed back towards Musa, no more teary, but rather, strengthening. It was resolute with intensity.

Musa's brows curved. He felt the pit of his stomach tie in knots, in wonder as to what Rashid would want from him.

"If you tell me, I'm sure I would not mind but to accept," Musa nodded briefly.

"Are you sure?" Rashid questioned further, his nostrils inhaling. "I would not want to enforce it on you, Musa. But it is a decision of yours to make- but as a father, I have to do this. I have to ask you once again. Will you do me this one thing that will lift the weight off of me, after all the little I have done for you? If you do so, accept. I will be able to leave this world in peace knowing this."

Musa felt a lump form in his throat. But his stance was firm, his eyes too, intensified, and his hands gripped Rashid's. "You've done so much for me, I only pray to Allah to ease your pains and help you mend your past mistakes, and let you breathe with ease, to bless you in both worlds, and to help you on your journey to Him."

"Ameen, Musa, Ameen. JazakAllahokhair for such a beautiful dua," Rashid patted Musa's hand with his other one. The tinge of softness specked his eyes, as he let the words of confidence request.

"I will leave this world, Musa. I'm already old of age. You're a young, strong, educated, and well-earning man. I made dua to my Rabb who never once despaired me. His plannings and workings always shine the lights in my eyes, when I see how my Rabb accepts one's duas- and even if He doesn't, there is always wisdom behind it, and we should be grateful for it nonetheless."

Rashid inhaled sharply before he continued. "Musa, I was waiting for so long, because I knew I wouldn't be able to be Ambar's shelter for long. I've made duas for her in Tahhajud, I've cared for her as one would for their only daughter. I've tried and as I might, Musa, I kept searching... and searching, till I questioned myself 'Is he right one for her?' I haven't seen anyone.... but that very night you came to my house, the moment you confessed your pains with honesty, I was looking for that in her life-partner-to-be. I was looking for honesty."

Musa's eyes widened with every second, his grip losing hold. "Sir, I can't-"

Rashid lifted his hand to quiet him and then softened his words. "I saw how you were resolute on your stance to build your own life back. I saw determination and I was looking for that. I saw how you grew yourself from your pains, how no matter the past grudges; you held your loved ones near your heart and cherished them. I look for love in a man who is to be my daughter's husband. I saw your faith in and out, Musa. Truly, the one whose broken and had to fix himself is better than the one who is broken and does not make the effort to fix themselves, no? Musa, I look for faith, Imaan, resolute belief that there is no God but Allah, and Prophet Muhammad SAW is His Messenger and His Slave...."

Rashid held these last words ever so tightly from his throat. Musa could feel the intensity of a father's voice for his own daughter. And that too, in the hospital.

"Will you marry my daughter, Ambar?" Rashid had breathed out, barely moving his lips.

Musa stared down at his own hands, seeing the sweat on his palms. The words falling out of his mouth harder than he had liked it to be.

"If she agrees," Musa's gaze clashed with Rashid's. "Then there is no denial from my side."

Asalamualaykum!
The lesson in this story was, that no one is perfect. The only perfect human being is Prophet Muhammad SAW who is the Perfect Role Model. And Musa needed to learn that whoever turns out as a candle in your life, actually needed to burn in tests and trials, and life's work to become the inspiring light for others.

Rashid Murhani is love. He's this sweet gentleman who has catered with so many of youth's flaws, knowing that he needed to learn as well. His wife Amina was a phase in his life where he wasn't right about few things no matter his intentions and that's another point to be noted.

Its a sad, messed up reality where some people portray deen as their own mouths to fill, forgetting the beauty of it, and as well, making people ignorant of its beauty altogether pushing them away from the Truth. Rashid had to learn this the hard way, but he did, and so let's just applaud over his development 👏🏼👏🏼

Now the teaser of the day. Who you shipping Musa with now?? ;)

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