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.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJ8Kif2uKI8
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.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡW8oMpSQJTM
The kids with hearts of gold and shoes made of tape.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrdJjOIiOIZ
The water well. The laughter. The broken bread.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvFPGwvw6Cj
And her.
Hanni.
“She’s like the ayaat I never knew how to recite properly,” he breathed.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4DqKrsCVx3
“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.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUqtAGsjYpB
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.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡy8XUkqz7mX
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!”21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHJAftgJzs4
“Wear your nice abaya please!”21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNSftuYaFx1
“You can’t say no, you promised us hot cocoa yesterday!!!”21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡglqHuEKD4v
“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.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡl7MRhZWRi9
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.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtFuqaKkrXk
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.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxooHwYgPUd
No crowd.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCC9gVBB1zv
Just the children watching with their hearts in their eyes.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6l8aSBItWm
A Qur’an, resting on a wooden stand.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSelOvfjOCv
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.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpwvfYlVNNr
I knew you were special before I even knew your name.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKDxMNFNFGx
And now—after fire, after broken bread, after every test of patience—I only know this:
I want to protect you.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGLNlC1coI2
Teach beside you. Heal beside you.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiJeijmKNy3
Love you the way the Prophet ﷺ loved—with mercy, with dua, with every step toward Jannah.
I don’t have much.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡja9ZTcnDeH
But what I have… is yours.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDERY1o4ioW
Will you marry me?”**
Her hands shook.
Her eyes dropped to the prayer rug.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFj6iOZxyYK
She blinked. Once. Twice.
And then looked up.
Her voice? A breath wrapped in faith.
“Yes,” she whispered.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKCesOUiYlM
“In every way that’s written for me. Yes.”
The MASJID. WENT. WILD.
Kids lost their minds.
“MISS HANNI IS GONNA BE MRS. BOXERRRRR!!!”21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwu2pZrFyyP
“FINALLY WE CAN CALL YOU MAMA HANNI!!!”21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuqKMa3PuIS
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.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWE7gBFNls0
No big wedding.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ49up1rt4OR
Just a ring made of wood.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡS6aEb9L94I
A courtyard full of orphans.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrtjRFFr5Pt
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—21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ29k5fxbR1T
Sometimes the most powerful love stories...21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡj2pyTVgbyI
start with Bismillah.
然後按「加至主畫面」