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.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0SvpSfPmC0
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.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGyeKyAn0fM
The kids with hearts of gold and shoes made of tape.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhblPPSUmRD
The water well. The laughter. The broken bread.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHo6UkxATGd
And her.
Hanni.
“She’s like the ayaat I never knew how to recite properly,” he breathed.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡa8M0vAztFH
“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.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡn79c4kMJBV
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.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7tc1ygtAFR
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!”15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeogUnrR0OW
“Wear your nice abaya please!”15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKACvv66YnJ
“You can’t say no, you promised us hot cocoa yesterday!!!”15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhgqWuHR8Bw
“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.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDSalpwABb7
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.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbYayYNg2re
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.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtVxpQMXUvk
No crowd.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgaLkkGUAkW
Just the children watching with their hearts in their eyes.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzI4YD1frlw
A Qur’an, resting on a wooden stand.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsPC7F7Sug1
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.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbPZw9mwla1
I knew you were special before I even knew your name.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAlaHXjIodH
And now—after fire, after broken bread, after every test of patience—I only know this:
I want to protect you.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1xkLJ9KD1C
Teach beside you. Heal beside you.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAkJHk95ora
Love you the way the Prophet ﷺ loved—with mercy, with dua, with every step toward Jannah.
I don’t have much.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡI9JNG5fDCq
But what I have… is yours.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPfLtQ4stFs
Will you marry me?”**
Her hands shook.
Her eyes dropped to the prayer rug.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDVpVRdnuDh
She blinked. Once. Twice.
And then looked up.
Her voice? A breath wrapped in faith.
“Yes,” she whispered.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvvR1XT0bsD
“In every way that’s written for me. Yes.”
The MASJID. WENT. WILD.
Kids lost their minds.
“MISS HANNI IS GONNA BE MRS. BOXERRRRR!!!”15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqWUELVJQac
“FINALLY WE CAN CALL YOU MAMA HANNI!!!”15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5Y1db1dLzD
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.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡu42a1XQbYG
No big wedding.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡx1pmT2aGMW
Just a ring made of wood.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡivLzEsCxGM
A courtyard full of orphans.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡupSuH6vH8E
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—15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1k4Mp68qDf
Sometimes the most powerful love stories...15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFkJEQzRrJZ
start with Bismillah.
