The old phone booth barely had a working signal.
Dust clung to its glass like forgotten prayers, and the receiver crackled with every breath. Abu Bakr had walked three miles to get there—dodging broken concrete, tanks in the distance, a land stripped to its bones.
In his hand: two protein bars. His last ones.
He handed them to a man who lived inside a burned-out kiosk, who only nodded once and handed him ten precious minutes.
The line rang.
Once.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGH9Umw0zae
Twice.
Then—his mother’s voice.
And his chest cracked like a dam giving way.
“Mama,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I’m okay. I’m okay. But—Gaza…”
He told her everything.
The courtyard with no roof.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDAhxD0UBrS
The kids with hearts of gold and shoes made of tape.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5KrslK4AUs
The water well. The laughter. The broken bread.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡefiLTHlwPB
And her.
Hanni.
“She’s like the ayaat I never knew how to recite properly,” he breathed.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRVJckq29Cc
“And now I can’t stop repeating her.”
There was a pause.
And then his father's voice—firm, deep, kind.
“If she is of deen,” his father said gently, “then she is already of your destiny. But son... you must protect her.”
“I will,” Abu Bakr promised.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOlkH9cwCRb
And the line went dead.
But the vow echoed on.
The next morning, he gathered the kids in the courtyard.
Some still had chocolate stains on their shirts.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ84kJeNYhSS
Others had sleep in their eyes and bandaids on their knees.
He stood in front of them—nervous, serious, and grinning all at once.
“I need your help,” he said.
One kid squinted. “Is this a math test again?”
“Nope,” he said. “Better.”
Another gasped. “Is it chocolate milk?!”
He laughed.
“Better than chocolate milk. This is forever.”
SCREEEEEEEAMINGGGGGGGGGG
The courtyard erupted in chaos. Kids screamed, hugged each other, spun in circles. Amal fell over from excitement. Bilal clapped so hard his sandal flew off.
Then came the plotting. And ohhh bbg, the plotting was PLANNED.
They whispered. They sprinted. They tugged on Hanni’s sleeves, giggling like little secret agents.
“Miss Hanni, come quick!”42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5V764n7aXr
“Wear your nice abaya please!”42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjCCpyG0KMv
“You can’t say no, you promised us hot cocoa yesterday!!!”42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaK9kaydCSk
“THIS IS IMPORTANT!!!”
She blinked, still sore from the raid. Her ribs ached. Her niqab was tied tighter than usual, a shield from the pain of the world.
But the children had that look in their eyes again. That glow.
So she followed.
They led her to the masjid.
The masjid.
Where she’d first seen him.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ08Ab8TngLC
Back when she was just a woman clutching her Qur’an, avoiding the tall stranger surrounded by kids who called him the King One.
The masjid lights flickered gently, halos of gold pooling on the ground like blessings spilled.
And then she gasped.
Because he was there.
Abu Bakr.
No dusty keffiyeh. No scuffed sandals.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWCrmptt58T
Just a fresh white thobe. Clean. Soft beard combed back. Standing tall.
And in his hand?
A small, beautifully carved ring—made of olive wood from the very tree Amal used to sit under and read Qur’an.
No roses.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEFUFgHTn3h
No crowd.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4aVjQtX4e3
Just the children watching with their hearts in their eyes.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJ1XuunsFq2
A Qur’an, resting on a wooden stand.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6rLYA8r4MX
And him.
He took a step forward.
And when he spoke, his voice was a whisper built from sujood and sincerity.
“Hanni…”
“I saw you in sujood before I ever saw you in person.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjQYh1cSRJt
I knew you were special before I even knew your name.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxNNjMMQiFs
And now—after fire, after broken bread, after every test of patience—I only know this:
I want to protect you.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7Bi8qYANra
Teach beside you. Heal beside you.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡS9FFljrMbD
Love you the way the Prophet ﷺ loved—with mercy, with dua, with every step toward Jannah.
I don’t have much.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfNrpeSkLWt
But what I have… is yours.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsTns3aBwvx
Will you marry me?”**
Her hands shook.
Her eyes dropped to the prayer rug.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBkFJF7rj9M
She blinked. Once. Twice.
And then looked up.
Her voice? A breath wrapped in faith.
“Yes,” she whispered.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3lYowXa4FA
“In every way that’s written for me. Yes.”
The MASJID. WENT. WILD.
Kids lost their minds.
“MISS HANNI IS GONNA BE MRS. BOXERRRRR!!!”42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiwBjPYuc30
“FINALLY WE CAN CALL YOU MAMA HANNI!!!”42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5ZqYdd6VYm
One child tried to start a dabke and tripped over a prayer rug.
Even the elderly imam in the corner, who hadn’t smiled in weeks, nodded sagely and said:
“May Allah grant you children who memorize the Qur’an… and throw a good punch.”
Abu Bakr chuckled.
Hanni blushed so hard her ears went pink under her niqab.
And then, quietly—
They stood.
Not touching.
Just close.
Two souls locked, shoulder to shoulder, hearts leaning, like prayer and prostration.
No fancy gold.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5Dvm4WRgKy
No big wedding.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡe7Vc2fkulT
Just a ring made of wood.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4RwWAk5DyN
A courtyard full of orphans.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbOHRBnySJR
And a love carved from duas, discipline, and deep, deep faith.
And when they stepped out of the masjid together?
The wind felt like a new beginning.
Because in the land of rubble and resistance—42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIyOBGAE2GQ
Sometimes the most powerful love stories...42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQTpSfYKpOY
start with Bismillah.
and then Add to home screen.