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.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡA0j8fntYvc
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.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2tYQMsbfXz
The kids with hearts of gold and shoes made of tape.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfcsAH9WOCF
The water well. The laughter. The broken bread.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVEdmvz1Kxd
And her.
Hanni.
“She’s like the ayaat I never knew how to recite properly,” he breathed.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1pULHfNg1F
“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.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡb3agnup0Fl
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.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmzsVXLrT6i
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!”16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1LT30jIlah
“Wear your nice abaya please!”16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOfYEKx4TJ9
“You can’t say no, you promised us hot cocoa yesterday!!!”16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHOT3A2107V
“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.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmOgMJynqDd
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.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKEKb3dsaci
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.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwDi2QBn3RG
No crowd.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNydT21ITZa
Just the children watching with their hearts in their eyes.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqVHpD161dF
A Qur’an, resting on a wooden stand.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuhCkOvmX8Y
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.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ88NUif6v7f
I knew you were special before I even knew your name.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡK1mwWM3Yti
And now—after fire, after broken bread, after every test of patience—I only know this:
I want to protect you.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuFTbA5end8
Teach beside you. Heal beside you.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVLRBusggfZ
Love you the way the Prophet ﷺ loved—with mercy, with dua, with every step toward Jannah.
I don’t have much.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMdzS3tLWsS
But what I have… is yours.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡo3kLlWVCkM
Will you marry me?”**
Her hands shook.
Her eyes dropped to the prayer rug.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrmA4YDeEbC
She blinked. Once. Twice.
And then looked up.
Her voice? A breath wrapped in faith.
“Yes,” she whispered.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡF9SC5Vq0FZ
“In every way that’s written for me. Yes.”
The MASJID. WENT. WILD.
Kids lost their minds.
“MISS HANNI IS GONNA BE MRS. BOXERRRRR!!!”16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKOzYXO0c4K
“FINALLY WE CAN CALL YOU MAMA HANNI!!!”16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwlE3vbiNq5
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.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7XDbsa2qxq
No big wedding.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLVpxyBIol4
Just a ring made of wood.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgPYnszSnk3
A courtyard full of orphans.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhakjbjAdFl
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—16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1AvDLTWrM9
Sometimes the most powerful love stories...16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡf9yd3f5oHr
start with Bismillah.
