Zainab sat on her bed in her room, resting her chin in her palm while thin streams of tears of regret and deep sorrow flowed down her cheeks. At a single glance, one could see she was in great distress, weighed down by the heavy burdens of life. Losing both her parents at the same time had left a scar so deep that her heart ached with unbearable pain, and even breathing felt like a struggle under the weight of her grief.

As memories of her parents filled her mind, she broke into sobs so bitter it seemed she might faint. Her weeping echoed through the room, her veins stood out visibly on her forehead, and life felt meaningless to her. She wished she were dead rather than living such a miserable life, for her husband, Laweezi, had already destroyed her heart, leaving behind nothing but scars and a lifetime of sorrow. She knew she would never forget the torment he inflicted on her, and yet she blamed herself. If only she had obeyed her parents, none of this would have happened. Greed and ambition had led her astray, and now she was paying the price.

Her crying grew so intense that her eyes became swollen. She wept bitter tears of regret and anguish, unable to find comfort. Just then, her aunt, Maijiddah, entered the room. Seeing Zainab weeping in the middle of her bed shook her to the core. She rushed to her side, placed a hand gently on her shoulder, and asked softly, “Subhanallah! Zeey, what is wrong? Why are you crying like this?”

Zainab raised her reddened eyes but couldn’t speak. Her heart burned too much to form words. She turned her face away, ashamed in front of her aunt. For she knew she had been the cause of her family’s downfall, the shattering of their happiness, and the death of her parents.

She couldn’t understand why Aunty Maijiddah still felt pity for her, still showed her love and care. To Zainab, she did not deserve compassion or forgiveness—she was the root of their suffering.

Lost in her thoughts, she heard her aunt’s gentle voice again: “Zeey, I’m talking to you, but you’re silent. What is really wrong with you, my sister?”

Startled, Zainab lowered her head and whispered faintly, “Aunty, it’s nothing.”

Maijiddah shook her head firmly. “Nothing? You’re here crying alone, and you say nothing is wrong? Why won’t you accept your destiny with patience? Why not confide in me? I am like a mother to you, and no one can wipe your tears the way I can. Stop drowning yourself in grief and hand over everything to God—He will open a better path for you.”

Fresh tears poured down Zainab’s face. Her aunt embraced her, holding her tightly, while her own eyes glistened with tears she forced herself not to shed. “Enough, my dear sister,” Maijiddah said softly. “Whoever wrongs another in this life will surely face God’s justice. And remember, life is never only sorrow or only joy. It turns, and everyone faces their share of trials. You must find patience.”

Through clenched teeth and a trembling voice, Zainab replied, “Aunty, you will never understand how I feel. Wallahi, I feel like ending my life. Death seems better than this torment locked inside me.”

Her aunt held her more tightly. “Don’t ever say that, Zeey. As a Muslim, your duty is to submit to God’s decree. Don’t speak words of despair. Your parents are gone, and the only thing they need from us now is prayer, not blame.”

Zainab wept, “But Aunty, you know I caused their deaths. It was because of me.”

Her aunt snapped in sorrowful anger, “No! You did not cause their death. God had decreed it from the beginning. Don’t place such a burden on yourself.”

Zainab sniffled and nodded. “Alright, Aunty, since you don’t want me to keep blaming myself, I’ll stop.”

Maijiddah wiped her tears with tender love. “Good, Zeey. Now come, let’s eat something before Doctor Nazeer comes to check on you.”

Zainab pouted. “I’m not hungry, Aunty. That doctor is always disturbing me.”

Her aunt scolded gently, “Don’t be stubborn. If you don’t take your medicine, your illness will worsen. Or is it because Doctor Nazeer likes you that you’re acting proud? Remember, he’s only helping you, and he has many women throwing themselves at him.”

Tears welled in Zainab’s eyes. “What do I care about those women, Aunty?”

Maijiddah smiled knowingly. “You should care, because if you lose Nazeer, you’ll be losing a man who truly loves you, someone who will never abandon you no matter how hard life gets.”

Zainab pouted again. “Fine.”

“Good. Now come eat,” her aunt urged, standing up. Zainab followed her, and together they went to the dining table.

---

They ate quietly, neither speaking. After finishing, Zainab cleared the plates, washed them, and then returned to her room.

At exactly noon, Maijiddah’s children, Jawaheer and Mahafuz, came back from school. They went straight into Zainab’s room and found her sleeping soundly. Jawaheer whispered, “Aunty is asleep, let’s go to our room, Mahafuz.”

But Mahafuz shook his head. “I’m not leaving until she wakes up.”

Jawaheer sighed. “Fine, I’ll go change out of my school uniform first.”

She left and returned a few minutes later. “Your turn, go change.”

But Mahafuz insisted, “No, I want to wake Aunty Zeey first.”

“Don’t you dare,” Jawaheer warned. “It’s not good to wake someone from their sleep.”

“I will, whether you like it or not.”

Ignoring her, Mahafuz shook Zainab by the shoulder. “Aunty Zeey, wake up! Give me a bath, I’m hot and sweaty.”

Startled, Zainab woke up, blinking her red eyes. Seeing the children, her face hardened. “How many times have I warned you not to wake me when I’m sleeping? Why do you disrespect me?”

Jawaheer, on the verge of tears, said, “Aunty, I told him not to, but he didn’t listen.”

Mahafuz argued back, “She told me to wake you up!”

“That’s a lie!”

“You’re the liar!”

They were about to fight when Zainab scolded them sternly, “Enough! Jawaheer, don’t you dare hit him. Why can’t you be patient? He’s your little brother, and one day you will be like a mother to him. You must learn compassion and tolerance.”

Quietly, Jawaheer lowered her head. “Alright, Aunty Zee, I’ll try to be more patient.”

Zainab smiled, “That’s my girl. I love you dearly.”

“I love you too, Aunty Zee,” Jawaheer replied.

Zainab stood. “Now, let’s get you both bathed and changed.”

She bathed Mahafuz first, dressed him neatly, then did the same for Jawaheer—lotions, clean clothes, and even a touch of makeup to make her glow.

“Go to the parlour and watch TV while I take my bath,” Zainab told them.

They nodded and left, and as Zainab entered the bathroom, the call to the afternoon prayer (Zuhr) echoed from the nearby mosque.