He couldn't tear his eyes away from her.
It felt as though time itself had reluctantly slowed, granting him the impossible luxury of studying her.
She simply sat there, completely absorbed in her work.
The commotion unfolding before the classroom didn't seem to bother her in the slightest. Nor did she appear puzzled by the group of boys standing there.
It wasn't that she didn't know.
She knew.
She had simply chosen not to spare them a glance.
Her face was gracefully framed by a raven-black hijab, while warm brown eyes shimmered beneath the classroom lights. One hand rested lightly against her lips as she pondered the question before her, absentmindedly twirling the pen between her slender fingers.
She fascinated him.
So much so that he found himself wishing...
Just once...
For her to lift her gaze and look at him.
Instantly-
The composure he had spent years building crumbled.
The walls he had so carefully erected around his heart collapsed within a single heartbeat.
His pulse pounded violently against his chest.
It hurt.
Breathing suddenly became difficult.
She had truly stolen the air from his lungs.
His throat ran dry.
Instinctively, he raised a hand to cover the lower half of his face, desperately trying to hide the warmth that rushed across his cheeks and crept to the tips of his ears.
His body felt strangely light...
Yet unbearably heavy at the same time.
Wide-eyed, he continued staring at her, unable to look away.
His fingers trembled.
So did his heart.
It wasn't merely her beauty that captivated him.
It was the quiet elegance she carried.
The gentle way her fingers toyed with the pen.
The tiny crease between her brows whenever she became lost in thought.
The innocent confusion that painted her expression as she wrestled with the question before her.
Everything about her quietly drew him in.
Then-
At last...
She lifted her gaze.
Their eyes met.
Only for a fleeting moment.
Haider immediately lowered his own.
His fingers tightened around his sleeve as guilt washed over him.
He couldn't deny it.
He had been staring.
He was at fault.
And he deserved whatever punishment he had coming for him.
...
The rest of the day unfolded as though nothing extraordinary had happened.
Yet for Haider...
Nothing felt the same.
Her image lingered in his mind no matter how hard he tried to cast it aside.
More than anything, however...
He sought to hold himself accountable.
The moment the final bell rang, he hurried toward the mosque.
He led the prayer as usual.
Even after everyone had left, he remained where he was.
Both of his hands were raised in sincere supplication, guilt etched across his face.
He prayed.
"Ya Rahman... please forgive my insolence. I have sinned against myself and disobeyed You."
He lowered himself into prostration.
Yet the memory returned once more.
Her face.
Her eyes.
The quiet concentration with which she had held her pen.
He shut his eyes tightly and gently shook his head, forcing the thoughts away before raising his hands once again.
"Please have mercy upon me, my Lord. If she is not written for me, then remove her from my heart."
His voice grew softer.
"I do not wish to place my hope in what You have not decreed for me. If sabr is what I need, then grant me patience. You are Ar-Rahman, the Most Merciful."
His voice cracked.
His lips trembled ever so slightly.
Before his Creator, every defence he possessed disappeared.
With every prayer, the burden weighing upon his heart grew a little lighter.
By the time Isha arrived...
Peace had quietly settled within him.
If she had not been written into his destiny, then he had no right to entertain such thoughts.
To dwell upon them would only allow his feelings to deepen until they became impossible to abandon.
He could never permit his desires to lead him away from what he believed was right.
His duty was to submit to the will of his Lord.
Anything that distracted him from that path had to be left behind.
Nevertheless...
As exhaustion gradually overtook him, his eyelids grew heavier.
His thoughts became blurred.
His heart no longer guarded itself as carefully as before.
And that...
Was where his greatest regret began.
His thoughts wandered back to her once more.
He recalled her face.
Her quiet grace.
The gentle way she had absentmindedly toyed with her pen while solving the question before her.
This time...
He didn't stop himself.
For the first time, he allowed his imagination to drift.
He wondered what it would be like to walk beside her.
To hear her voice.
To hold her hand.
"!!"
Haider's eyes flew open.
He shot upright in bed, his breathing uneven as his heart pounded heavily against his chest.
Cold sweat clung to his forehead.
He wiped it away with a trembling hand.
"Astaghfirullah..."
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"What was I doing...?"
His gaze fell upon the prayer mat resting quietly on the floor.
Without another moment's hesitation, he rose from his bed.
He performed wudu, allowing the cool water to calm both his body and his restless heart.
When he finished, he stood upon the prayer mat once more.
With sincere remorse filling his chest, he resolved to perform Salat al-Tawbah, seeking his Lord's forgiveness once again.