Meant To Be? (Completed)

Chapter 2

Abdullah P.O.V.

There was nothing I loved on Earth more than flowers. Whenever I felt like my life was draining away, flowers and their vibrant colors would always perk my spirits. Whenever I had had a rough day at both school and my home, I would go outside and stare at the different colors as they swayed in the wind.

For some reason, that was the first thing I thought when I saw that girl that bumped into me. I was willing to bet it was because her hijab was covered in flowers, but she just reminded me of a flower for some reason.

I was born in Marrakech, Morocco. Both of my parents were from Morocco as well, therefore I was considered Moroccan. I loved life. Everything about it was so glorious to me as a child. Then, when I was ten years old, things took a turn for the worst. My parents were murdered, and that left me alone. Child services placed me through the foster care system. They told me there was a potential that someone would adopt me. Nobody ever did. All the foster homes I went to opened a door for a new evil, a new and dark chapter in my early life.

The first home had an alcoholic father who would beat both me and the mother. The second home had a sinister brother who would attack me and beat me. The third home had an abusive mother. The fourth home, and the final home, had neglecting parents. I had a rough life, but I never let it get in the way of what I had always wanted to do, study medicine.

As an Arab, our two most prized jobs in the world were doctors and engineers. I had always been fascinated with the prospect of becoming a doctor, and so when I had been accepted into a medical school after majoring in biology, I was the happiest child in the world.

I purposely made sure that the college was far away from any of my previous foster homes. I paid for a dorm, which was expensive, so I had to get a job as well, but I didn't mind it. I was okay with that life. All I cared about was working towards the jannah and pleasing Allah.

I made sure everyday that I memorized some ayat everyday. My goal was to become a hafiz. My mother was one. She had memorized the entire Quran. I strived to be like her. I knew that I could die anytime. I wanted to go to Allah at least trying to memorize his Quran.

The MSA loved me for my deep love for my religion. It was the one thing that I held onto when my parents were killed. Religion held me together some days, even if my foster parents did not approve. My final foster parents had beat me when I refused to leave Islam. Why would I? Sabr was always beneficial. Those who had sabr during times of hardship would most likely be granted jannah, something I wanted so badly.

So as I sat through the lecture, jotting down notes, I wrote a small duaa in the beginning of my notebook to make sure that I remembered it before I began studying.

To many people's surprise, I refused to grow out my beard. I knew it was Sunnah, but I didn't like beards. It was just the way I was. I liked having a small beard.

When the lecture was over, I walked out with my friend Muhammad. He and I had just become friends at the last jummah prayer in the MSA masjid in the campus. He was a very smart person, and he was always energetic and outgoing. He was from Saudi Arabia, so I did have trouble understanding his Arabic sometimes, but we both managed. My dialect confused him most of the time, but I was sure that he got the general idea when we spoke.

He had just moved from Saudi Arabia, and was very proud of his heritage. He constantly wore the traditional Saudi male outfit. The ghutra, aagal, and jubaa (I think that's what it's called. Correct me if I'm wrong, I'm not Saudi). I just wore normal, casual clothes. Jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers. I was like a polar opposite compared to Muhammad in terms of personality. I was more reserved, he was outgoing and was friends with just about anybody.

My other good friend, Omar Abu al Haija, was a Palestinian who was born in Kawkab Abu al Haija. The city he was born in is under Israeli control, so he had to learn Hebrew along with Arabic. He also spoke English and French on top of that. He was probably smarter than Muhammad and I combined. He was overall, a smart person.

"I'm telling you, my anatomy prof is out to destroy us," Muhammad sighed as we were walking.

"Why's that?" I laughed light-heartedly.

"She won't have mercy on us with the lecture! She talks like a chipmunk and not only that, her tests are all of the little details you don't actually think are important, but they are!" Muhammad ranted.

"All profs are like that," I rolled my eyes.

"Not like this one. No my friend. Not like this one at all," Muhammad shook his head.

As I thought back to the lecture a few minutes ago, I remembered that fleeting moment when that girl's eyes met mine. It was only for an instant, yet it felt so magical. I was a bit concerned at the way I was thinking, I didn't want to form attachments, nor did I want to lust women. Yet, I wanted to know more about her.

"Earth to Abdullah! You still alive!" Muhammad raised his voice.

"Hm? Yes. I am," I nodded, still absentminded.

"You lost in fantasy land?"

"No... do you know who that girl that bumped into me is?"

"No. Just cause she's Saudi doesn't mean I know her," Muhammad joked.

"Yeah, I was just wondering," I sighed.

"Why do you care though?"

"I don't know. For some reason, I just do. Maybe it's just some weird phase or something," I shrugged.

"Phase? Could it be love at first sight? Romeo and Juliet?"

"Shut up. That's not what this is at all. I don't even know her. How could I love her if I don't know her? Where's the logic in that?" I raised my eyebrows at him in confusion.

"My friend, Romeo fell for Juliet and kissed her. On the lips. They didn't know each other. Not even names my friend," Muhammad was grinning wildly.

"First off, that's haram. Second off, that's literature. This is real life. Not Bollywood or Shakespeare," I rolled my eyes.

"Bollywood is great. Don't diss it," Muhammad was chuckling now.

"I've never watched a whole Bollywood movie, and I'm not sure I will."

"You should. It's worth the fifty hours."

"Keep telling yourself that," I laughed.

"To answer your original question, her name is Aisha. That I know about her. Also, she's filthy stinking rich. Her dad is, so she is. She's got everything she wants."

"Wow."

"Just wow?"

"I'm surprised how some people just get everything and some people get nothing, you know? Some are just so attached to this dunya, they only care for themselves," I sighed.

"I don't know if I called up the sheikh from Saudi or not, but you had a sudden change in character, Abdullah."

"I'm no sheikh, I just think that it's interesting, subhanallah," I shrugged. 

"Some people are too rich sometimes, is that it?" Muhammad grinned.

"You know, you're annoying."

"And you're stupid. But that doesn't stop us from being friends!"

"Whatever, moron."

"Fool."

"Darn. I can't recover from that one, can I?"

"Hell no. In fact, you'll never be able to at all."