N y r a

pray on time.

Happiness isn’t something we have to chase.

It’s something we return to.

To Allah.

but in surrendering to what Allah has written.

is quietly refuse to become who they used to be.

Even if my presence

was only ever temporary,

I no longer fight that truth—

I understand it now.

I stayed long enough

to see how love can exist beautifully

without ever being meant to last.

I did not choose the timing,

and you did not choose the ending—

and perhaps that is what makes it hurt less now…

because not everything needs someone to blame.

I will go far away,

not as someone running away,

but as someone finally allowing life

to continue without resistance.

Forgive me, excuse me…

this is not disappearance anymore—

this is acceptance taking its final form.

I came without certainty,

and I leave without confusion.

What I felt was real,

but what it became was never meant to stay.

I learned to sit with my pain

instead of fighting it,

to let sadness exist

without letting it define me.

Because loving you

was never the mistake—

but holding on to something temporary

as if it was permanent

would have been.

And that is the quiet truth I carry now…

not that I lost you,

but that I was never meant to keep you.

If my name ever returns to your thoughts,

let it come without weight.

Let it simply exist—

as something that once happened,

and is now finished.

I am no longer trying to forget you.

I am simply no longer holding you.

There is a difference

between pain that breaks you

and pain that teaches you.

I am learning to become the second.

Every memory of you still exists,

but it no longer pulls me backwards—

it only reminds me

of how deeply I am capable of feeling.

If I stay, I remain stuck in what was.

If I leave, I move toward what will be.

So I choose forward—quietly, gently, completely.

I am not whole yet,

but I am no longer scattered.

I am not healed,

but I am no longer lost inside you.

And still… I loved you.

But now I understand—

love does not always ask to be kept alive.

Sometimes it asks to be released with respect.

So I leave,

not with resistance,

not with bitterness,

but with understanding that finally feels peaceful.

Goodbye…

not as an ending that hurts forever,

but as a memory that has finally stopped bleeding.

And I carry you still—

not as a wound,

but as something that shaped me

into someone who knows

how to let go without losing love itself.

not everything beautiful is written for us to keep,

some are sent by Allah

only to awaken the heart

then return to Him.

You were a feeling I could not deny,

a softness that found me in my quiet,

yet I knew…

not every love is meant to become a home.

So I gather this longing gently,

and place it where only Allah can see,

for He knows what I hide in my chest,

and what I am trying to let go for His sake.

Because peace…

is not in holding on to what I desire,

but in surrendering to what He has written.

And if loving you was real,

then letting you go is also love—

a love that chooses obedience over desire,

and trusts that what is meant for me

will never miss me.

So I leave this between my heart and Allah..

something once beautiful,

now softened into a prayer

I no longer ask to be answered.

in ways words cannot hold.

So we remember her quietly..

through Al-Fatihah,

through prayers only Allah hears.

Ya Allah,

You know how much we miss her.

You know the emptiness she left behind.

And yet You were the One

who called her home

on the second night of Ramadan..

when the doors of Hell are closed

and the doors of Jannah are opened wide.

So when we. remember that,

my sadness softens a little.

Because maybe

that was Your gentle way

of bringing our mother home

on a night filled with mercy.

Happy birthday, Mak.

Your daughters still carry you

not gentle enough,

not patient enough.

Not grateful enough for the love she gave so freely,

a love I only learned the weight of after she was gone.

On the second day of Ramadan,

the world quietly took my mother away.

And suddenly the month of mercy

became the month I learned what loss truly means.

The last time I heard her voice

was at suhoor,

on the first day of Ramadan.

I only said,

"Happy Ramadhan, Mak."

I did not know those simple words

would become the last memory of her voice.

The sahur call still echoes every year,

but her voice no longer answers mine.

Only memories sit beside me now,

in the silence before dawn.

So every Ramadan,

my prayers find her name before my own.

Ya Allah,

hold my mother gently,

I erase resentment by faith.

What I forgive for His sake

returns to me as peace.

I release what burdened my heart,

trusting Allah to be my witness.

What I let go in His name

even when I am fragile,

choosing patience

over every flaw you see.

In your quiet care,

my heart feels protected.

You are my calm,

my safe place,

my home.

Loving you is the softest decision

my heart has ever made.

with a heart that was still learning,

and you loved me

without asking for perfection.

Allah placed sakinah between us,

quietly and gently.

In your love,

I found forgiveness and peace.

So I choose you

softly,

sincerely,

for the rest of my life.

What I have lived through

is not a story I am proud of.

It was born from weakness,

from confusion,

from a heart that almost lost its footing.

The mistakes I made,

the betrayal that came from my own hands,

became wounds I learned to carry quietly.

I am aware of how people judge,

how eyes change,

how words

spoken or unspoken

can weigh heavier than truth.

Yet,

never once did it cross my heart

to wish this path upon anyone else.

If this pain must exist,

let it remain with me.

Let others learn from my fall

to cherish the love and life

that were entrusted to them.

If I had been given a choice from the beginning,

I would never have chosen the wrong road.

It is a road filled with ache,

with exhaustion,

with scars that take a long time to heal

if they ever fully do.

The regret alone is enough

to break a person silently.

I almost slipped completely.

I was close to losing myself.

But through mercy I did not deserve,

through prayers that never ceased,

and through the presence of souls

who guided me back when I was lost,

I found myself standing again—

unsteady,

yet facing the right direction.

My mistakes and my sins

are not a journey worth celebrating.

But from them,

I learned that returning

does not require perfection—

only sincerity.

I am still learning.

Still trying.

Still praying that my ending

will be written on a path

that is pleasing to Allah.

I hope no one else

ever walks where I once did.

Because it is painful.

It is draining.

And the weight of remorse—

only Allah truly knows

how heavy it is to carry.

and the betrayal from my own hands

are part of my story,

known only to Allah.

I never wished this path upon anyone.

may Allah accept my repentance,

and let my story remind those around me

to cherish the people and the life

that Allah entrusted to them.

Sometimes the road toward it is shaped by loss,

by endings that do not scream,

by love we learn to release without hatred.

There are longings I folded deep inside my chest,

never displayed,

never asked to be understood,

only carried with honesty and restraint.

I whispered to myself—

yes, I once stood there,

yes, I loved in a way that changed me,

yes, I survived the weight of it.

Allah never asked me to erase my past,

only to place it back in His hands.

So I let the memories rest where they belong,

acknowledged,

forgiven,

no longer guiding my steps.

And in the stillness Allah returned me to,

I chose to come home.

I am grateful to Allah for not sealing the door,

for giving me clarity when my heart trembled,

for allowing me to think,

to return,

to stand again on ground still wrapped in His redha.

I come back softer now,

carrying wisdom instead of longing,

offering a love that knows boundaries,

a love that stays.

And here you are—

the one Allah entrusted to my life.

I choose you not because I must,

but because my heart recognizes peace in you.

Not because all other roads vanished,

but because this is the path Allah blesses.

My love for you is present and whole,

free from shadows,

free from comparison.

With you,

my heart does not wander.

With you,

love feels safe,

lawful,

and enough.

I hold you with gratitude to Allah,

for making you my place of rest,

my companion in this world,

and my hope for the next.

Here,

my love remains..

steady,

sincere,

and finally home.

I am not clean.

But I am still turning

slowly,

imperfectly

toward You.

And if mercy is written for those

who return again and again,

then let me be counted

among the weak

who never stopped believing

that Allah is greater

for staying beside me when my heart felt unworthy.

I love you as an amanah I vow to treasure,

I lowered my ego, not my faith.