Chapter 1: Ummi

Once upon a time, far far away, a small petal was shaken from a tree, whisked off by the wind to travel far and wide. It slipped by rain clouds and droplets of water like tears slid off its smooth surface. It mingled with three other flowers in a field, their thorns stabbing at it. It floated high above factories and fire until it was unrecognisable by the soot. It flew over palaces of princes and royalty, dipping with the wind to gesture respect but not to bow. It slithered into a stream, the water washing away the black soot and glistening like crystal glass off its surface. Floating atop the water, it allowed the current to set its course and sailed across the miniscule river like a tiny pink boat. Its predestined course led it to swim into a small bucket that was dipped into the water.

Laila cupped her hands in the bucket of water and began to perform wudhu, giggling a little when she noticed a petal had gotten stuck in it. Picking it up, she wondered where it came from and pocketed it to give to her mother. The child smiled at the thought and hurried to finish her wudhu, rinsing her hands three times - right then left - and then her mouth, nose and face. She slipped the water over her forearms, uptil her elbows, her right then left, three times. Then she dipped her hands in the water and ran them over her hair once and rinsed her ears once. Finally, she washed her feet three times, her right then left before spilling the leftover water back into the stream. Skipping back to the house, she hummed to herself.

Entering her mother's room, she squealed in delight, running to her side.

"Ummi!! I found something!!"

The sick woman turned to her side to gaze at her daughter, smiling as she lifted a hand to pet her hair.

"Hmm? What do you have to show me, habibati?"

She dragged a stool next to her mother's bedside and eagerly showcased the petal to her. It glittered in her sunkissed brown hand, pastel pink against her orange toned brown. Gasping softly, her mother lifted her shaking frail arms to clasp her daughters hands.

"It's beautiful habibati, a pretty petal to fit my pretty little girl."

Gesturing to a small empty bottle, which was small enough to fit in the little girl's palm, that sat on the counter, she asked.

"Can you bring me my necklace please?"

Nodding, Laila curled her fingers around the cool glass and brought it to her mother. The bottle's cork was threaded with a string that showed blue and purple cords entwined together - it was a tiny jar, only meant to hold crafting beads. Laila's mother placed the petal flat on her daughter's palm before gently pressing her hands together, pushing inwards from the back of her hands, her own palms swamping the young child's. The plant was squashed between Laila's hands and flower pressed to keep its colour. Next, she filled the bottom of the jar with small see through blue beads before carefully slipping the petal inside and then adding sprinkles of shiny pink thread and capping the cork on. Sparkling in a backdrop of glittering blue and pink, the petal shimmered like a fairy wing. Laila's mother pressed it to her heart, softly murmuring Ayat-ul kursi, and then gave it to her daughter.

"Here you go. Always wear this and recite that dua and Inshaallah, Allah will always protect you"

Laila clutched the bottle at her neck, water welling up in her eyes as she attended her mother's Janazah. After the prayer, she sat outside the mosque, a black hijab and jilbab framing her small 8 year old body. Behind the mosque, in the area no one visited, she sat on a bench, her hand slid underneath her hijab to feel the comfort of the glass under her neck. The thread was much too big for her and often the jar hung low on her chest, next to her heart. Pulling it upwards like the cord was a lever, she slipped her fingers around it's surface. The last of the magic her mother left in her life. It was special. It was her love. It was the last of her. Shakily, she cleared her clogged throat and began to recite, her voice full of cracks from when it fell with shock. Quiet with grief and broken up with hiccups, tears rained down her chin as she held a tight fist around the bottle.

"Allahu... Laaa ilaaha- illaa huwal- haiyul qai-yoom...

Laa taakhuzuhoo... sinatunw... wa laa nawm; lahoo maa fissamaa-waati wa maa fil ard...

Man zallazee yashfa'u indahooo illaa be iznih."

Her voice gradually grew stronger and more confident as she gained comfort from reading. Wiping away the water from her eyes, she sniffed again and continued.

"Ya'lamu maa baina aideehim wa maa khalfahum,

Wa laa yuheetoona beshai 'immin 'ilmihee illa be maa shaaaa

Wasi'a kursiyyuhus samaa waati wal arda wa la ya'ooduho hifzuhumaa

Wa huwal aliyyul 'azeeeeeem..."

The words wrapped around her like a golden blanket, shielding her from harm and lifting some of the weight off her chest. She felt protected. Gently rocking as a warm feeling filled her chest, she hugged herself with her thin arms, imagining that it was the tender embrace of an angel's wings, larger than the entire Earth and made of light, wrapped around her to keep her safe. That was how her father found her later, huddled into herself and smiling in the dark corner she'd sat herself in, her hijab and jilbab spread around her like a cloak of shadows. Sighing, he picked her up and carried her home, already worried for her future without a mother.