Whispers in the Dark
"And when My servants ask you concerning Me, indeed I am near. I respond to the call of the supplicant when he calls upon Me."
— Surah Al-Baqarah (2:186)
I sat up in bed all night, frantically dialing his number, but to no avail.
As soon as dawn broke, I wore my shoes and started making my way to the back gate, determined to jump the fence if I had to.
Nothing and nobody was going to keep me from finding Jacobi, from seeing with my own two eyes that he was fine.
As I approached the gate, the little phone finally rang. I almost fainted from relief when I saw Your Love flash on the screen.
"Jacobi? What happened? I've been calling you all night!" I shrieked.
"My angel, I'm really sorry," he apologized. "You won't believe what happened. I got back from Atlanta to find that some hoodlums had completely trashed the hospital."
I stopped dead in my tracks. "Trashed?"
"Dear, the place is a mess," he continued. "They destroyed everything; furniture, equipment, everything. All that was left for them to do was burn the place down. They even chased away the two patients we had on admission and also the nurse on duty."
I was no longer listening. I didn't need to. I could only hear one word, one name.
Ibrahim.
"It's a lot of damage, but nothing that can't be fixed," Jacobi was still talking. "What makes me mad is that they also attacked Oliver. He was very badly beaten. I had to rush him to another hospital in a different state. It was while I was there that the battery of my phone went out. Thankfully, we were able to stabilize him, and -"
I hung up, unable to listen to any more. Olive was one of the young doctors Jacobi had hired.
Ibrahim's boys had probably wrongly assumed he was their target.
How soon would it be before they realize their mistake and plan something more sinister for Jacobi, something sinister enough to take his life?
I realised then and there that I couldn't do it to him.
I was a danger to his life.
Letting out a loud scream, I threw the phone at a tree, and watched it splinter. As it shattered, so did all my hopes and dreams. Nothing was ever going to take me from the ranch. Nothing short of death.
My legs buckled as I wept, and I was soon on all fours, weeping on the wet, marshy ground, weeping for my lost love, weeping for my wasted life.
I was back to being a prisoner.
And I was tired this time, Allah I'm tired.
"Ya Allah, do You hear me?" I screamed at the top of my voice, not caring who heard me, not caring if my voice reached the heavens or fell uselessly into the void. My throat burned with the force of my cries, but I screamed again, louder this time, as if I could shake the very throne of the Almighty with my anguish.
"I whispered Your name in the darkness. I have called upon You with my forehead pressed to the ground, my tears staining the prayer mat. I woke up before dawn, my voice trembling in the silence of sujood. I have fasted through scorching heat and restless hunger. I have given what little I had to those in need, stretching my hands even when mine were empty. I have recited Your words until they became the rhythm of my breath, the pulse of my heart."
"But Ya Allah, what have I received in return?" I sniffed hard, my throat sore from screaming
"Pain. Suffering. A heart that bleeds but never stops beating, no matter how much it wishes to. A life that feels like a trial with no relief. A loneliness that even the walls of my home cannot contain. I watch as others bask in joy, their lives unfolding like gardens in spring, while mine withers under the weight of unseen burdens."I clutched my chest, nails digging into my skin, gasping for air between sobs.
My body trembled, each breath a struggle, each moment an unbearable weight pressing down on me.
"Ya Allah! Ya Allah!" I cried, my pain raw, my soul shattered into a million pieces. "Where are You? Do You see me? Do You hear me?! Answer me!!"
"Am I not Your servant, Ya Rabb? Did I not live for You? Did I not strive to walk the straight path, even when my legs trembled and my soul felt hollow? Did I not trust in Your plan, even when I could not see beyond my own sorrow?
Ya Allah, I am tired.
I am tired of waiting for a relief that never comes. I am tired of believing that my patience will bear fruit, when all I taste is the bitterness of despair. I am tired of saying "Alhamdulillah" through clenched teeth, forcing gratitude when my heart is breaking. I am tired of hoping for Jannah when this dunya has been nothing but a grave for my dreams.
I fell to my knees, the impact sending a jolt of pain up my legs, but I barely felt it. My hands slammed against the cold ground, fists pounding against it as though I could break through the barriers of fate and demand my answer. "I have prayed! I have fasted! I have given all I had in Your name! And yet—pain is all I have received in return!"
Must I wait until the Hereafter to see the reward of my faith? Must I endure a lifetime of wounds only to be healed in death? Must I live each day in agony, knowing that my prayers are met with silence?
Ya Allah, I am not ungrateful—I am just broken.
If this is a test, then I am failing. If this is a lesson, then I do not understand. If this is my destiny, then why does it feel like punishment?
Ya Allah, do You see me? Do You hear me? Or am I whispering into an emptiness that will never answer?
I am here, on my knees, with nothing left to give except this shattered soul. If You are near, then show me. If You are listening, then answer me. If You love me, then hold me.
Because Ya Allah, I am drowning, and I have no one left to call but You.
I don't want to wait till jannah before I find peace.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
"Zeynep!" came Uzochi's voice, as she rushed to me. "Someone told me they saw you back here. What happened?"
But I didn't even look up, instead, my crying intensified. With a deep sigh, the older woman knelt beside me and took me in her arms as I continued to cry, rocking me back and forth.
Even without any words, I could tell she understood.