7. Hamza, Sarah and His Mother

When Hasna woke up, she was surprised to find the bed beside her empty. The familiar warmth of Hamza's presence was gone, replaced by an unsettling stillness. She sat up, glancing around the room, but there was no sign of him. Anxiety crept into her chest as she quickly searched the entire house, only to confirm that he was nowhere to be found. What if something had happened to him? Or worse, what if he had left her without saying a word?

As she made her way back to her room, she heard a noise coming from the kitchen. Her heart leapt with hope—maybe it was Hamza—but when she entered the kitchen, she found Khala instead. The older woman had returned, her presence a comforting sight amidst Hasna's unease.

"Assalamualaikum, dear. I'm so glad to see you," Khala greeted her with a warm smile and a hug.

Hasna tried to smile back, but the worry in her heart lingered. She chatted with Khala for a while, but her mind was elsewhere, tangled in thoughts of Hamza. Eventually, she excused herself and retreated to her room. She took a long shower, letting the water soothe her frayed nerves, and then performed her Fajr salah. But when she opened her Quran to recite, she found that she couldn't focus. Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over without warning.

"Allah is enough for me. He is enough for my dunya and akhira," she whispered, trying to calm the storm inside her.

Just as she was beginning to regain her composure, a knock sounded at the door. Wiping her tears, she opened it to find Khala standing there, holding out a phone.

"Here, Hamza's calling," Khala said, her smile soft and reassuring.

Hasna's heart skipped a beat as she took the phone, her hands trembling slightly.

"Assalamualaikum," Hamza's voice came through the line, calm and steady. "I'm sorry I had to leave for an emergency business meeting. You were sleeping, so I didn't want to disturb you. I'll be back in two days."

Hasna let out a sigh of relief, though a small part of her still felt disappointed. She had wanted to see him, to talk to him, to share the thoughts and emotions swirling within her. But he was gone, leaving her alone with her thoughts once again. She put down the phone and looked out the window, watching as the sun began to rise, casting a warm glow over the tranquil island. The next two days seemed like they would stretch on endlessly, filled with too much time to think and not enough distractions.

---

Hamza entered his bedroom, the soft carpet cushioning his footsteps as he walked. The familiar scent of his wife's perfume filled the air, wrapping around him like a comforting embrace. He slipped his arms around her waist from behind, his touch gentle yet possessive. Sarah, who had been lost in her own thoughts, looked up at him in surprise, her expression quickly shifting to one of relief.

"I missed you, Sarah," he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to her shoulder.

She turned in his arms, her eyes searching his face. "Really? If you missed me, then why did you leave me here in the first place?" she teased, though there was a hint of genuine curiosity in her tone.

Hamza sighed, brushing a stray hair from her face. "What can I do, my love? I'm trapped. I have a business to handle. Otherwise, what fool would dare leave a beautiful wife like you behind? Believe me, if I could, I'd never leave you, not even for a second."

Sarah chuckled, her earlier worries melting away. She knew how to tease him, to coax out that playful side of him that she adored. "You've really mastered the art of sweet-talking your way out of trouble."

"Really? But look at you," Hamza countered, his eyes sparkling with affection. "You don't even need to do anything. One smile from you, and I'm already at your mercy."

Sarah's smile widened, and she playfully swatted his chest. But as she did, Hamza's gaze fell on a badly burned mark on her hand. His expression immediately shifted to one of concern, and he gently took her hand in his, examining the injury.

"What happened to your hand?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

Sarah hesitated, her smile faltering. "Oh, it's nothing. I burned myself while ironing. I was just careless."

"How did you manage to burn yourself so badly?" Hamza pressed, his concern deepening.

"I wasn't paying attention, that's all. But I've already applied ointment, so it's fine," she said, trying to dismiss his worries as she pulled her hand away.

"You need to be more careful," he said, his tone firm but caring.

"I will, I promise," she assured him, helping him remove his coat.

As they settled in, Hamza's thoughts turned to his mother. "By the way, did Ma say anything to you?"

Sarah shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "No, in fact, our relationship has improved a lot. I think she's slowly accepting me as her daughter-in-law."

Hamza felt a weight lift from his shoulders. "That's great. I really hope everything between you two continues to improve."

Sarah nodded, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for her husband's unwavering support.

---

Later, Hamza went to visit his mother, knowing he had to make time for her despite his busy schedule. But when he entered her room, she greeted him with a taunt, her tone sharp and accusatory.

"Now you get the time to meet your mother?"

"Sorry, Ma. I thought you were resting. I didn't want to disturb you," he replied, trying to keep the peace.

"Fine. No need for excuses. Ever since that girl entered this house, I've lost my place in your life. That girl..." she began, her words dripping with disdain.

"Please, Ma, let's not start this again. Besides, that girl is Sarah. She's my wife and your daughter-in-law."

"She's cast a spell on you," his mother muttered, her face hardening with resentment.

"Please, Ma, not today. I'm tired. I don't want to argue," Hamza said, feeling the weight of her disapproval.

"She's not good for you. She doesn't match you in any way. I don't understand what you see in her," his mother continued, her voice rising with frustration.

Hamza's patience began to wear thin. "What I see in her is something you will never understand, Ma. Sarah is my life partner, my soulmate, and my best friend. She is everything to me, and it hurts me deeply when you speak ill of her."

His mother looked at him, surprised by the intensity of his words. "And as for matching with me, she completes me in every way possible. I hope one day you can see that too, Ma."

His mother sighed and looked away, the tension between them thickening. Hamza knew that her disapproval wouldn't fade easily. He wished she could accept Sarah for who she was, but he understood that it would take time. He sat down beside her, taking her hands in his.

"Ma, she is my wife, and you are my mother. Both of you are important to me. I can't live without either of you. I know you're concerned about me, but Sarah is the one I've chosen to spend my life with. I hope you can learn to respect that."

His mother remained silent, but Hamza knew his words had made an impact. He hoped that, in time, she would come around and accept Sarah as part of their family.

---

A few days later, Hamza heard loud noises coming from the living room. When he entered, he found his mother seated on the sofa, her face twisted in anger. Sarah stood in front of her, looking frightened and unsure. The tension in the room was palpable.

Hamza quickly stepped forward, sensing that something had gone terribly wrong. "What's going on here?"

His mother pointed an accusatory finger at Sarah. "Your wife needs to learn some manners."

Hamza looked at Sarah, his concern evident. "What happened?"

"I... I don't know how it happened. The cup just slipped from my hands, and the tea spilled everywhere," Sarah stammered, her voice trembling.

"She broke my most treasured cup!" his mother shouted, her eyes blazing with fury.

"Mom, it was an accident. There's no need to overreact," Hamza said, trying to diffuse the situation.

"An accident? Or was it done on purpose?" his mother retorted, glaring at Sarah with suspicion.

Hamza's gaze hardened. "Ma, please don't speak to my wife like that."

"I'll speak to her however I want. She doesn't belong in this family," his mother spat, rising from the couch in anger.

Hamza felt his temper rising, but he forced himself to stay calm. He knew his mother didn't like Sarah, but he hadn't expected her to be so cruel. In a quiet, controlled voice, he stepped closer to his mother.

"Ma, I won't tolerate you mistreating my wife. Sarah is a part of this family, and she deserves your respect. Stop treating her this way," he said firmly, his eyes locked onto his mother's.

"Treating her this way? I'm just telling the truth," his mother snapped.

"Ma, you're being unreasonable. It was just a cup. You're making a scene over nothing. Sarah is a permanent member of this family, and you need to accept that," Hamza said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

His mother glared at him, her face flushed with anger. Without another word, she stormed out of the room, leaving Hamza and Sarah standing in tense silence. Sarah looked up at him, relief washing over her face as she realized he had defended her. But Hamza's heart was heavy. He didn't know what more he could do to make his mother accept Sarah. All he knew was that the rift between them was growing wider, and it pained him to see the two women he loved most at odds.

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