In the Name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful

'Peace and Blessings of Allah be upon our beloved Prophet and Master Muhammad (s.a.s), all his blessed descendants and noble companions.'

- Aameen.

Dedicated to @ukhtmads for the comment that made me smile, jazak Allahu khair :)

Chapter Twenty-One

Blessings of Mashwarah (mutual consultation)

London, U.K

The chill breeze flitted through the flimsy curtains in the Prayer Room where the tall man stood facing the Qiblah and his voice, though not melodious, was loud and clear as the Fajr adhaan was called out,

"Assalaatu khayrum min an-naum!"

(Prayer is better than sleep!)

"Assalaatu khayrum min an-naum!"

(Prayer is better than sleep!)

"Allahu Akbar Allahu Akbar!"

(Allah is the Greatest Allah is the Greatest!)

"Laa ilaha illal Laah!"

(There is no god but Allah!)

It had taken weeks, almost a month for Humaira to persuade Ahmed to proclaim the adhaan whenever Salah time came when he was at home, especially during the Fajr. Now in the cold dawns, Ahmed always felt awe as peace and soothing tranquillity surrounded him as he completed the blessed call of Prayer.

But today his peace was disrupted, because even before the adhaan had ended, there was impatient ringing and loud knocking at the front door. Humaira who had been replying to the adhaan looked at her husband who frowned at the interruption as he said, "Assalaatu khayrum min an-naum!"

He waved at Humaira to go and check, so she hurried wondering what had occurred to whom, why was there such a dreadful racket so early in the morning. But when she checked she could only make out a man's bowed form still knocking on the door; she was thinking of asking what's wrong when Ahmed joined her.

Humaira hurried back inside just as Ahmed opened the door and scowled at the young man standing before him, his fist raised in a knock.

"Is there a fire?" Ahmed barked as he noted that the man swayed where he stood, his eyes blood-shot. Obviously drunk; where the heck was the security?

"Stop it, I say, stop it!" the man glared back.

"I thought you were making the awful noise. Should I call the security?"

"I rang them! But they're saying they can't do anything about it, so I came here to stop it!"

"Stop what?" Ahmed was having a hard time controlling his temper.

"What you were doing... just ...just stop."

Thinking physical violence won't be a good idea Ahmed tried to close the door.

"No! No, please, why did you say it, why did you say the adhaan?" the man almost pleaded.

"To pray, obviously;" Ahmed now looked closely than before; pale brown skin, black and messy hair, light stubble, Jaws t-shirt and shorts, and of course drunk.

"You're a ...Muslim?" the man lurched then steadied himself.

"I'm, Alhamdulillaah."

"Me too..." he whispered, as if realizing something strange about oneself.

Then without warning he fell to his knees clutching his head as he moaned, "What should I do? ya Allah, What should I do?"

A flicker of something swept over Ahmed's heart and he opened the door wide.

"For now, you can get up," his voice was almost gentle.

The young man raised his head and Ahmed was strangely troubled to see the tears.

"You can come and sit inside, if you want to. I'm going to pray Fajr and I'll come and talk after that."

"Oh," he got up and entered. Ahmed pointed at the sofa and then saw that his face had turned grey.

"I'm sorry... I think I'm going to be sick!" Even before he could finish saying Ahmed rushed him towards the bathroom where he barely had the time to clutch the toilet bowl before he vomited.

For some time after that he continued to dry heave and then acknowledged that nothing more would come.

"Th-thank you..." he accepted the wet towel from Ahmed and shakily stood up.

"Wash yourself and come,"

And when he came outside rubbing his wan, wet face with the towel, Ahmed gave a large chilled glass.

"Drink," he said seeing the guy's reaction. "It's just water. My wife wanted to know whether you would like something warm, coffee or... but I thought this would be best."

The young man nodded gratefully, and then winced.

"Headache?"

"Yes..."

"I'll get an aspirin."

So that was how Sikandar Kareem found himself seated in Dr Montex's living room swallowing an aspirin and feeling that what one hears was not always true. He was aware of Dr Montex's reputation, his cold personality, and never thought he would find him like this.

"Better?" Ahmed came back after praying and joined him.

In response he got a grateful smile.

"Your name?"

"Sikandar, and you're?"

"Ahmed."

"Oh. Then Dr Alex is?"

"Myself; so?"

Sikandar shook his head. "Sorry;"

"What was that all about?"

"I couldn't sleep... heard the adhaan and I thought... sorry, I truly I'm. I don't know what got into me."

"You live down?"

"No... actually, it's Alicia's home, my ... girlfriend."

"I see;"

"I'll go now," he said getting up. "And, thank you."

Ahmed nodded saying dryly, "I would have gladly kicked you out, but my wife would disapprove;" the blue eyes twinkled a bit.

"Thanks to her too," Sikandar looked around wondering where this wife was. But then he noticed that Ahmed noticed and something in the forbidding look stopped him from blundering. So he left after mumbling apologies.

"You should have asked him what's wrong," Humaira said as she came and sat beside Ahmed carrying her cup of coffee and his mug of chocolate. They sat in vintage wicker basket chairs, outside in the balcony watching the dawn arrive with its bright lovely colours. This was one of the habits cultivated by Humaira as she always liked to do her morning dhikr looking at the open blue sky.

"I did," Ahmed replied without taking his gaze from the Arabic words. His Tajweed and Makharij had progressed greatly yet he still had his lessons almost every morning under Humaira's tutelage.

"So?"

"He didn't say; what should I do?"

Humaira smiled a little. Her husband was not exactly a man who invited confidences but still...

"Did you tell him to see a doctor?"

"Why?"

"He was sick wasn't he?" she took a sip and sighed as the warm beverage slipped inside her throat.

"Perhaps," Ahmed closed the noble book and placed it on the table beside them. He leaned back stretching then took up his mug.

"But -"

"He was drunk, Muskaan."

"Oh."

He looked at her troubled face and sighed.

"You said his name was Sikandar..." she continued in a distressed tone.

"Yes,"

"And he lives downstairs?"

"No. He's a ...visitor," Ahmed wondered why he didn't just say that man was with his girlfriend. Perhaps, he mused, he didn't want to distress her further. It was not that she was either ignorant or innocent about the world, it was that she always thought the best of others. Especially Muslims.
Not long ago, he would have thought it normal, even an accomplishment to be in a relationship with a girl. Now, Allah's Fazal, he knew better.

"I wonder why he didn't want to hear the adhaan..."

"Alcohol does that to you... queer stupid things."

Humaira remained thoughtful, gazing at the clear morning light.

"Enough about him," Ahmed said with a touch of irritation. "Will you listen to my recitation now?"

"Of course," she smiled warmly as Ahmed closed his eyes and began in soft tones,

بِسْمِ اللّٰهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيمِ‎

يسٓ

Yaa-Seen
(1. Ya, Seen.)

وَٱلْقُرْءَانِ ٱلْحَكِيمِ

Wal-Qur-aanil-Hakeem
(2. By the wise Qur'an.)

إِنَّكَ لَمِنَ ٱلْمُرْسَلِينَ

Innaka laminal mursaleen
(3. Indeed you, [O Muhammad ﷺ], are from among the messengers,)

عَلَىٰ صِرَ‌ٰطٍۢ مُّسْتَقِيمٍۢ

'Alaa Siraatim Mustaqeem
(4. On a straight path.)

تَنزِيلَ ٱلْعَزِيزِ ٱلرَّحِيمِ

Tanzeelal 'Azeezir Raheem
(5. [This is] a revelation of the Exalted in Might, the Merciful,)

لِتُنذِرَ قَوْمًۭا مَّآ أُنذِرَ ءَابَآؤُهُمْ فَهُمْ غَـٰفِلُونَ

Litunzira qawmam maaa unzira aabaaa'uhum fahum ghaafiloon
(6. That you may warn a people whose forefathers were not warned, so they are unaware.)

لَقَدْ حَقَّ ٱلْقَوْلُ عَلَىٰٓ أَكْثَرِهِمْ فَهُمْ لَا يُؤْمِنُونَ

Laqad haqqal qawlu 'alaaa aksarihim fahum laa yu'minoon
(7. Already the word has come into effect upon most of them, so they do not believe.)

إِنَّا جَعَلْنَا فِىٓ أَعْنَـٰقِهِمْ أَغْلَـٰلًۭا فَهِىَ إِلَى ٱلْأَذْقَانِ فَهُم مُّقْمَحُونَ

Innaa ja'alnaa feee a'naaqihim aghlaalan fahiya ilal azqaani fahum muqmahoon
(8. Indeed, We have put shackles on their necks, and they are to their chins, so they are with heads [kept] aloft.)

وَجَعَلْنَا مِنۢ بَيْنِ أَيْدِيهِمْ سَدًّۭا وَمِنْ خَلْفِهِمْ سَدًّۭا فَأَغْشَيْنَـٰهُمْ فَهُمْ لَا يُبْصِرُونَ

Wa ja'alnaa mim baini aydeehim saddanw-wa min khalfihim saddan fa aghshai naahum fahum laa yubsiroon
(9. And We have put before them a barrier and behind them a barrier and covered them, so they do not see.)

وَسَوَآءٌ عَلَيْهِمْ ءَأَنذَرْتَهُمْ أَمْ لَمْ تُنذِرْهُمْ لَا يُؤْمِنُونَ

Wa sawaaa'un 'alaihim 'a-anzartahum am lam tunzirhum laa yu'minoon

(10. And it is all the same for them whether you warn them or do not warn them - they will not believe.)

إِنَّمَا تُنذِرُ مَنِ ٱتَّبَعَ ٱلذِّكْرَ وَخَشِىَ ٱلرَّحْمَـٰنَ بِٱلْغَيْبِ ۖ فَبَشِّرْهُ بِمَغْفِرَةٍۢ وَأَجْرٍۢ كَرِيمٍ

Innamaa tunziru manit taba 'az-Zikra wa khashiyar Rahmaana bilghaib, fabashshirhu bimaghfiratinw-wa ajrin kareem
(11. You can only warn one who follows the message and fears the Most Merciful unseen. So give him good tidings of forgiveness and noble reward.)

So began their days with the remembrance of Rabb ta'Ala and Humaira who had been vaguely afraid and in a way prepared for morning sickness realized that except for some queasiness she felt alright. Though during the day she would feel hungry at unexpected times and found herself drowsy even after a good night's sleep.

The next evening she found Ahmed scowling at his phone's screen and muttering something inaudible.

"What is it?" she asked pausing in the task of folding clothes. She could smell their freshly washed scent and had a vague desire to bury her face and inhale their fragrance properly.

"Nothing;" her husband muttered, placing away his phone.

She looked at him; he gazed back steadily... then seemed to yield.

"I got a message from George."

"Your friend?"

"No. He was, once."

"I see," Humaira went back to her folding hiding a smile. It was he who had said many times how his friends meant so much to him, more than his own parents.

"Tell me about him..." she began tentatively after some moments.

"About George? He's a da** bastard!"

Humaira raised her brows.

"Sorry," Ahmed said, not feeling sorry at all. "I mean, he's that of course, but I shouldn't have said so here. I mean, in front of you. I try not to swear, at least when you're there..." he trailed off and then grinned ruefully seeing her disappointed glance.

"The tongue which mentions the exalted Name of Allah SubhanaHu wa ta'Ala and His beloved Nabi ﷺ shouldn't use such foul language." So Humaira had admonished her husband, in a playful manner as she tapped his lips whenever he swore, but her words though always remained serious.

Because ever since their marriage she had been trying to wean Ahmed from swearing, it saw little progress as of now.

Night arrived and Ahmed became restless. Humaira found him walking the length of his study in a tense manner, his face severe, and his replies abrupt.

When Ahmed finally talked, he was furious,

"He says it's an emergency. But why should I go? He and Wil didn't think it important to attend my wedding! What do I care now what's bothering him?!

"They left me when I needed their support... at least for the sake of our friendship, for the sake of something that we had all these years, they should have made an appearance... to give me some, a sense of security that I had at least a few people who cared about me... but nothing, just nothing all these months and he dares to message me now saying it's an emergency!"

Humaira listens to this unusual outburst and when it occurs for the third time, 'George's bad jokes would have helped me a lot during my wedding... and wasn't I there for Wil? But did they care?'

She knew she had to do something, for these three friends, for these guys whom her husband obviously cared a lot though he seemed to be denying it now, no doubt his hurt at their abandonment was still fresh.

So she began nonchalantly, "Let's do Mashwara about this. Please stop pacing. It's making me dizzy..."

He immediately stopped and looked in concern; she gave a reassuring smile,

"Don't your legs ache with all that walking? Come and sit down."

"I don't feel pain," he shook his head. "I always walk when I'm tensed, an unconscious habit..."

"Yea I noticed... here goes then, Bismillaahir Rahmaanir Raheem! You guys have been friends since school?"

"Yes,"

"Like brothers?"

"Closer," he said reluctantly. "Even though we parted ways pursuing different careers, Michael brought us together again... after that, we almost always shared significant events of our lives as we met regularly and in those times when we couldn't, we kept contact through mail..."

"Okay. The rift between you four appeared when Michael accepted Islam?"

"Yea... sort of;"

"Please explain," she said with a smile, but the brown eyes remained serious.

"The problem was not Michael accepting Islam, though that's there too, the crux was Michael thinking that he was better now than us and wanting us to embrace Islam too."

"He was a true friend. Don't you wish now the same for your friends?"

"My faith...emaan is not so strong Muskaan. Not like Michael's. I do want them to perceive the truth but..."

"You won't invite them?" she guessed gently.

Ahmed nodded, frowning. "I know what the answer would be. I don't like being mocked at. And I would say something in return which I would regret later or perhaps won't."

Humaira suppressed a swift smile and continued with her questions trying to understand these friends and get at the root of their problem.

"The main reason why they, Wilson and George didn't come to our wedding is because of you accepting Islam?

"I don't see what else is there..." his expression became severe.

"And they lost touch with you the past months for the same reason?"

"Yea, the da** bastards," he muttered, forgetting that he had slipped once again.

"But, George now wants you both to meet him?"

"Yes, our usual place, where we used to meet and chat. Give updates of our lives and helping if the other needed some support..."

"And George says it's an emergency?"

"Yeah;"

"Then you must put aside your feelings and help, for a true mu'min (believer) always strives to help, trying to earn His Rabb's favour," she smiled and leaned against him. "So, do it for Allah okay? Just this one time, go and meet. Then, if they leave you again and you find yourself hurting, Allah SubhanaHu wa ta'Ala would provide you the healing..." she dropped a kiss at his sleeve.

He smiled pulling her closer. "Are you sure you're not a therapist?"

"Nope;" she dimpled. "This is the barakah of Mashwarah. As we try to do things seeking the pleasure of Allah and His Prophet ﷺ always ."

"Are we happy now?" she asked searching his face.

"I don't know about that Muskaan, but I'm deeply content, like I never was in my whole life, Alhamdulillaah.

"Alhamdulillaah," echoed his wife smiling wide.

*****

A/N :)

So? I'm sorry if it's slow and steady and you are left wondering and wondering when the heck she would hurry and let Saif and Maryam meet... in shaa Allaah, in its own time with His Help and Fazal, maybe soon...

So until then keep up those beautiful sincere Duas ❤

Jazak Allaahu khairan katheera for all the kindness and support!

With Duas and Salaam,

abdurRahman (Gudi :))