#ibrokethecycle

There are moments when I stop,

and everything feels still —

not because life is perfect,

but because it’s peaceful.

I look around my home,

my family gathered in the living room —

laughter, children’s voices,

tea being poured,

warmth in every corner.

This house isn’t just walls and lights —

it’s a heart.

A place that gathers mine.

Then there’s that quiet joy —

when my salary arrives.

I open the app,

I see the number,

and I whisper Elhamdoulilah.

Not because it’s much,

but because it’s mine.

Because it’s honest.

Because it allows me to stand,

to breathe,

to live with dignity.

And then, there’s her —

Dounia.

My soulmate in laughter and survival.

We’ve shared tears and jokes,

broken hearts and coffee cups.

We’ve seen each other at our lowest,

and still said, you’re beautiful like that.

She’s proof that friendship can be love,

without confusion,

without conditions.

Family.

Stability.

A blessed income.

And a friend who feels like home.

Maybe this is what healing looks like —

not fireworks,

but quiet gratitude.

Elhamdoulilah.

For what left,