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.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEIlrVLMXFI
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.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMz8PcXdUMl
The kids with hearts of gold and shoes made of tape.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnAmLso0qOD
The water well. The laughter. The broken bread.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrIiGILVgb0
And her.
Hanni.
“She’s like the ayaat I never knew how to recite properly,” he breathed.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6bMj3TspGV
“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.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡp72bcggNLe
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.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmrkaXrZvj1
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!”10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiBUXGzSZA6
“Wear your nice abaya please!”10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡELNb56y42P
“You can’t say no, you promised us hot cocoa yesterday!!!”10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhGHwR8GHZw
“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.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRHPrLaolZt
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.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkoDOkWaNk5
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.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmrPRu3qCkw
No crowd.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmWJDvlxg9u
Just the children watching with their hearts in their eyes.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfNp2HvVQcB
A Qur’an, resting on a wooden stand.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4nQVejuRBW
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.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWCxxw2EbMr
I knew you were special before I even knew your name.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6yoH3Ool0P
And now—after fire, after broken bread, after every test of patience—I only know this:
I want to protect you.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQso0lV9UrP
Teach beside you. Heal beside you.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0PPJiYJwM5
Love you the way the Prophet ﷺ loved—with mercy, with dua, with every step toward Jannah.
I don’t have much.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPahuRBhfiQ
But what I have… is yours.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAFheWD0f2b
Will you marry me?”**
Her hands shook.
Her eyes dropped to the prayer rug.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1inBt66a04
She blinked. Once. Twice.
And then looked up.
Her voice? A breath wrapped in faith.
“Yes,” she whispered.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3FL3nDrKzp
“In every way that’s written for me. Yes.”
The MASJID. WENT. WILD.
Kids lost their minds.
“MISS HANNI IS GONNA BE MRS. BOXERRRRR!!!”10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTEqq3qkYTy
“FINALLY WE CAN CALL YOU MAMA HANNI!!!”10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxy6PIbmkOt
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.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhC6Xww9r8v
No big wedding.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1vdIVUNneU
Just a ring made of wood.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡW2qtgFulHg
A courtyard full of orphans.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrrvtKyVLfk
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—10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoN0hjCvvUk
Sometimes the most powerful love stories...10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkHPpBWHiYx
start with Bismillah.
