I knew.

I knew it the moment you asked to hold my hand on our wedding day, that my heart would be safe and honoured inside yours.

I knew when you wrote me a love letter, the kind with hand-dyed paper, rolled into a scroll and tied with a bow, that you understood my deepest love language.

I knew when you reassured me we’d visit my parents and family the second this is all over, that you could sense my struggling heart aching to be here and there.

I knew when you started turning off the heating on my side of the car, that you could anticipate my aggravation and love me for my (many) quirks.

I knew when you began reading a hadith with us after Maghrib as a family, that you were striving to bring the best of Prophetic guidance into our home.

I knew when you indulged me every time I started talking about personality types and enneagrams, that I could share my interests with excitement.

I knew when you cheered me on as I launched my first business, that my goals mattered to you as much as they did to me.

I knew when you supported me with your love and confidence when I felt at my weakest in my 3rd trimester, that I could trust every ounce of your love.

I knew when you consoled me on a low day, quietly praying and crying in my closet, that my feelings were not a burden for you.

I knew when you reminded me of Allahs’ words, His mercy, His tests, and His reward, that nothing would be too difficult to face with my hand in yours.


For my loving husband, Mehdi.

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