*Shezana’s Diary* *Garments for Each Other ©* *Wednesday, February 12, 2025* Dear Diary, Tonight is the night. The night I have been dreading and waiting for all at once. My heart feels like it’s caught in a tug-of-war between relief and guilt. I spent the entire day in an anxious haze—my mind replaying every thought, every possibility, every consequence. I could barely focus on anything. Even the usual comfort of Madressa felt distant today. My hands have been cold, my stomach unsettled, my breathing slightly uneven. It’s not fear, exactly, but a heaviness that refuses to lift. I know I have to face Abbu tonight. The house feels quieter than usual, though I know it's just my own nervousness amplifying the silence. I hesitate outside Abbu’s room for a moment, taking deep, steadying breaths before I finally step inside. My eyes stay lowered as I walk toward him, every step feeling like I’m treading through thick air. I sit down beside him, my hands clasped in my lap, willing them to stop trembling. Abbu places his warm, calloused hand on my head, a touch so gentle yet so full of strength. My heart clenches. This is the man who has protected me all my life, who has always wanted the best for me. I don’t want to disappoint him. “Shezana,” he says softly, “what have you thought about the proposal?” I slowly lift my gaze, forcing myself to meet his eyes. “Abbu…” My voice is quieter than I expected. “I have been doing Istikhara for the past few days. I’ve been making lots of du‘as and giving sadaqah as well. But every morning, I wake up with an uneasy feeling. I try to brush it off, to keep myself busy, to do Istikhara again—but the same feeling returns the next morning. It lingers, Abbu. And I’ve learned enough to know that I cannot ignore it.” I pause for a moment, gathering the courage to say the next part. “I’m really sorry, Abbu. I didn’t want to let you down. Please don’t, for even a moment, think that I am declining because of the cultural difference. I did Istikhara with a clear mind. And please don’t think that Ammi influenced me in any way. This decision… this feeling… it’s mine alone.” A thick silence settles between us. I feel my heart pounding against my ribs. I brace myself for disappointment, maybe even sadness in Abbu’s eyes. But instead, he leans forward and presses a soft kiss to my forehead. When he pulls back, there’s a small, understanding smile on his face. “I knew my daughter would never disappoint me,” he says. “We gave the boy a fair chance. He is not written in your taqdeer, and that is enough for me.” A sharp exhale leaves my lips, as if I had been holding my breath for days. Relief floods through me so suddenly that I feel lightheaded. I glance at Ammi, who has been quiet all this time, and for the first time in weeks, she looks truly at ease. The worry lines on her forehead smooth out, and she offers me a relieved smile. I sit with them for a little while, absorbing this moment, letting it settle into my bones. Then, finally, I retreat to my room. And that’s when it hits me. The weight that has been pressing against my chest for weeks—the tension, the uncertainty, the unspoken burden—it’s gone. Just like that. I feel free. Free in a way I hadn’t even realized I needed to be. Ya Allah, You are the best of planners. Today, I feel that more than ever. Shezana