Chapter 3: The Second Note Wasn’t Meant to Be Found… But It Was
🌙 Chapter 3: The Second Note Wasn’t Meant to Be Found… But It Was
Aaliyah wasn’t trying to be poetic.
She had a habit — not a plan.
Whenever life got too loud, she did three things:
Walk to the masjid when no one was looking.
Drop off a Qur’an she could barely afford.
Leave a note inside it like a whisper in someone else’s storm.
No names. No expectations. Just faith that maybe Allah would guide it to the right hands.
She wasn’t trying to impress anyone.
But someone… was quietly paying attention.
🕌 That Friday — After Jumu'ah
Hassan didn’t usually go to this masjid.
Too crowded. Too noisy. Too many familiar faces asking, “Are you doing better now, bhai?”
He hated that question.
But that day, he went anyway.
Somewhere in the chaos of shoes, shoulders, and scattered prayer mats, he noticed a girl near the women’s section. Black tote bag. Cream-colored hijab. A book in her hand.
He didn’t see her face.
But the bag caught his eye.
It had writing on it.
"Tired hearts still make beautiful duas."
His chest tightened.
He waited until the crowd thinned, then walked quietly to where she’d been standing.
Nothing.
Except a new Qur’an.
And inside it…
Another note.
“If you’re reading this, just know: Allah saw your tears before they ever fell.”
– from someone who still cries too, sometimes.
He swallowed.
The paper trembled in his hand. Not from fear. From recognition.
It was her again.
The same writing. The same softness. The same message dressed like mercy.
.
🧕 Back at Aaliyah’s Home
granny(fl)
Why do you always come home from Jumu’ah looking like you’ve fought a spiritual battle?
ahliya(fl)
“I do,” Aaliyah replied simply, slipping off her shoes.
She went straight to her room, closed the door, and let her heart exhale.
There was no way of knowing if anyone ever read her notes.
But something in her chest… felt different today.
Like her words had landed.
Like someone had caught them mid-fall.
🌌 That Evening — Hassan's Room
He opened both Qur’ans side by side.
Two notes.
Two moments.
Two reminders that maybe, just maybe, Allah had allowed their paths to brush against each other — without letting them collide too soon.
He didn’t know her name.
Didn’t want to ask around.
Didn’t want to ruin the atmosphere
vito/hassan(ml)
“Ya Allah…
If this girl is a test — give me patience.
If she’s a mercy — give me the adab to deserve her.”
📖 The next day, at a local bookstore
Aaliyah ran her fingers along the spines of the Islamic books like they were old friends. She didn’t need to buy anything. She just liked being there. Quiet spaces with big meanings.
Then suddenly — a voice.
Male. Calm. From behind her.
Cleon
Excuse me… are you the one who leaves notes in Qur’ans?”
Her breath caught.
She turned slowly.
But it wasn’t him.
Just a teenage boy holding a Qur’an with shaky hands.
Cleon
I… I found this at the masjid. Your note. I think it was for me.”
Aaliyah blinked. Words failed her.
He smiled.
Cleon
I just wanted to say thank you. I was having the worst week. And that line… about Allah seeing my tears…”
He looked down, voice cracking slightly.
👦 “It helped more than you know.”
ahliya(fl)
Alhamdulillah,” she whispered.
She never expected replies.
But today… Allah sent one.
Not from who she imagined.
But still from someone who needed it.
And that… was enough for now.
Meanwhile…
Hassan sat quietly in his room.
He had written a note of his own that day. Not to leave in a Qur’an.
But to fold into a dua.
vito/hassan(ml)
Ya Rabb… If this soul You’ve shown me is written for me — bring us together in a way that pleases You.”
He didn’t know her name.
But her words were starting to rewrite something inside him.
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