The Hayaa Oasis

From ‘The Private Journal’ of Umm Idris.
A personal reflection on 0304026, 12:00pm.

Around eight years ago, I met a girl who I thought was one of the closest friends I could possibly have in my life. She was someone who had a naturally charismatic allure, a magnetic personality that captivated others with her uplifting joyous energy. Let’s call her …Yasmina. In an instant, she could pull you into her world quickly, welcome you in a manner that you’ve never felt before, with a deeply appreciating compliment waiting for you and an easy round of introductions with those who were already with her. She would go out of her way to introduce yourself to them not only by an exchange of names and how-we-mets. Rather, she would share with them one key memory or experience you shared with her that impacted her and it would make you feel valued, special, and honoured in an instant. In my case, we met when I happen to be a volunteer staff in her college. Yasmina quickly became friendly with me and our relationship turned from mentor-mentee to that of a loving sisterhood. She was the type of girl you quietly wished you could have been, effortlessly friendly and warm, unafraid of making connections, exploring and learning new things, brave enough to plunge into unknown waters and daring enough to challenge boundaries. In many ways, I could sincerely say I envied the ease she had in connection with other people around her. It was a true talent, in my opinion, to be remarkably memorable so much so that people seek her out rather than the other way around. Yasmina was some years younger than me, and she always made me feel responsible for her in an empowering sense: in a world where I was the youngest child in my family, she made me feel capable of leadership and mentorship in a way I never thought I could have. 

I cherished our bond for many years. Despite the busy life, we somehow remain connected and leaned on one another in tough times. I grew protective of her much like I would if I had a younger sister who needed me. She confided in me and I did the same with her. For a time, Yasmina would always reach out to me in her most vulnerable moments, be it family problems or issues with boundary-crossing boys in school. I truly believed that she often sought my help because I offered her what others couldn’t: the encouragement she needed to stand strong and tall as her own person and a sense of protection that she lacked in her life from those who were meant to shield her. It was the kind of friendship you would believe could last for decades given the way we entrusted our most private affairs to each other. For the longest time, I truly believed that I was the one person in her life who she valued to be closest to her because when we were together with others, she would always introduce me as someone who was no less than a real sister to her. Her mother was much like her in that regard. A frank and no-time-for-bullshit type of lady who will tell you what’s what and embrace you like her own daughter. She would pull you into her home and tell you to make yourself at home, feed you even if she didn’t portioned enough for herself, and invite herself into your world as a loving friend and not just the elder person in the group. It was safe to say that I truly valued the connection I had with Yasmina’s mother and thought highly of her given her life’s journey as a single parent and that of a pious and resilient woman. It is rare to be able to find a safe space in someone else’s home and yet, she always made it possible to feel free and grounded in hers. A home that welcoming only fosters trust and ease, and in return, left Yasmina feeling safe to bring her friends closer to her mother’s supervision and kept her affairs under her parent’s roof. Something many other mothers with they could have as well.

My time with Yasmina was reliant on the tide of our friendship came and went with her. Almost like clockwork, every few months or even most of a year she would disappear claiming that she needed space or needed to regroup and retreat from the world but would then come back with another shockingly prolific series of what happened while she was gone from your life. Yasmina was like the yearly summer that brought the annual longed-for heat, one with an excitement of the possibilities of the present after a long dull winter, only it came with the searing scorching blaze that you never saw coming for you when you tried to welcome the new season without a sunscreen on. Just when you want to reconnect and spend a good time with your long-time friend, somehow the conversations would take a turn that exposed some strange vulgar recent recounts or you fall back into the trap of exposing your own sorrowful laments of life because of how easy she was to talk to. And I say this with much care, indeed.

But you see, my rosy lenses were foggy from the beginning. What I used to believe was a special kind of trust we shared was in fact nothing but a mimicry of every other relationship she had with other friends she was close with. I only notice this when I began to discover a strange pattern of sharing and behaviour over the many years of watching her. Yasmina’s habit of introductions began to highlight a nauseating tendency exposing her sharing and speaking about you in the presence of others without you in it. Like how she would finally introduce me to some people she know and begin with “remember the story I told you about so-and-so, this is her!” or “this is the one I told you about!” I used to believe that such talebearing were innocent and likely within appropriate boundaries, but over the many girl-talks over the years, I began to doubt the extend of what she tells others about me. This was in fact a result of listening to much of her own sharings about herself and others – even the ones closest to her – and how she portray them and speak of them. In my mind… if she can speak that way about her own family and friends, what more myself? It slowly poisoned my interest to remain in proximity to her and made me hesitant to keep her within my inner circle and privy to my private affairs over time.

With Yasmina, I began to find cracks in her ever-so-flawless manner of handling her social circle very quickly upon getting closer to Allah subhana wa ta’ala. In an effort to abandon sins and fight to improve oneself, I became critical of my own participation in remaining in silence in the face of fitnah and made effort to speak against it more often (as we all should). Slowly, I began noticing how she would frequently term many friends as her closest friend – much like she claim myself as hers – and it puzzled me, until it one day shocked me that the most private details of her life had been shared not only to me but to all of them as well. My mind instantly prepared itself a reminder since then to watch what I share as it became clear that Yasmina did not hold the boundaries of privacy and aib seriously even for herself. Regardless, she and I remain connected and we continue to confide in one another as our bond grew stronger. She relied upon me for advice, safety and comfort in her tough times and I did with her as well.

In the years that followed our beginning sisterhood, I found a pattern that made me uneasy despite my efforts to ignore it and keep my nose out of it. While her relationships with women thrive, in many old relationships she had with particularly men almost always a nasty ending that resulted in her fleeing away from them as they chased after her relentlessly to gain her favour and attention. I recall one of them even going to the extent of trying to force her hand by gaining her mother’s favor and then constantly messaging her and keeping up conversations that left her uncomfortable. And sending unsolicited gifts to them both. Where many would awe at the attention she receives that makes her seem incredibly desirable, I was quietly appalled at the vulgar behaviour that surrounded her and was hidden from her parents. It made me wonder what encouraged these boys/men over the years to no end. You see, the very nature that compels a person to be inclined to gravitate around her became dangerous over time when non-mahrams were involved. Politeness and kindness turned into misconstrued flirtation to these men and very quickly they become obsessed with trying to build a romantic platform with her. In those years of my heedlessness in religion before Allah subhana wa ta’ala granted me His merciful hidayah, I fully bought into it and believed in her tale of frustrations and shocking declarations of men vying for her attention despite being refused time and again. 

I remember her sharing with me for some months of a boy in college psychologically bullying her, being sweet and kind to her in private and quiet interactions but publicly humiliating and being cold to her even as a classmate. I recalled how toward the end, his true nature was eventually revealed when he came over for ’’schoolwork’’ only to sexually assault her in her own home when no one was there to protect her. In a world where parents were divorced and a child is left to defend herself and hide her affairs so as to not pile onto their plate… can you truly blame a minor then for not knowing better? At least that was what I told myself sadly. I blamed the worldly distractions that forcefully pulled her mother away from noticing her strange behaviours, and her father’s heavy responsibilities for his preoccupation to his work and other family with multiply other children. My ’’big sister’’ energy was supercharged to protect her and defend her, whilst simultaneously convincing to myself that she couldn’t have known or done anything, she was young and naïve, and that it was the guy’s fault for trying to shoot his shot despite being refused multiple times. When she shared with me her tale of kindness and love for all her brother-in-laws, I believed firmly in her when she was petrified and afraid of destroying her pregnant sister’s life when her husband revealed his manhood to her in the car on an evening he was charged and foolishly trusted with the responsibility of driving her safely home by his wife instead. I believed firmly in her defense when she was attacked for it relentlessly and viciously by her stepmother and her sister told then her child that ’’Yasmina destroyed our family’’ – they did not know the truth of what had happened, only that there were suspicions of boundary-crossing interactions (at least that is what she told me). In that incident, she was even shunned and ostracised for over a month from them. I was outraged when I heard her colleague tried to attempt to kiss her against her will when she was simply being her bubbly positive self at work as his assistant trainer. I even raised my hands to make dua against those that came later who harassed her, assaulted her, even friends baited her with kindness who then tried unspeakable acts against her. 

My rage and anger against those who tries to ruin her hid a frightening truth that I knew and yet refused to admit even to myself. Only because I had come to love her deeply as a friend and turned blind to her own flaws. I stood unwavering in my support and defense of Yasmina for many years, citing her childhood and home circumstances as my own reasons to forgive and give benefit of my doubt of her time and again. But there is only so much that can be explained away when your beloved friend one day comes forward years after you have moved away to reach out to you when you are in town for help to return to Allah’s path after her most frightening declaration yet. It was never the same since then.

In the same year she met my son during my temporary several months long stay in town, she had asked that we meet up and that she needed to talk to me without telling me what it was about. I remembered telling her that my eight-month-old son and my husband would have to tag along because we were going to eat breakfast and that I did not wish to separate a father from his son as he would be flying back home for work for some months and would want to cherish the last few days of being with his child before he goes (in hindsight, I should have been more aware of the dangers of such interactions despite how honourable and careful my husband is, allahumma barik!). She understood and told me explicitly that she had no issues with him hearing what she had to say and that she feels like we were her other parents to her. It was not the first time she had said this. It was strange to me, but I let it go. I shouldn’t have. That was the day that changed everything. That was the day she unleashed her aib upon us without any consideration of her own dignity or hayaa, nor the regard we would hope for in a dignified morning conversation in the same space as our son. In the same day that she sought out my help to get back on track in life and doing the right thing for the sake of what is good for her and leaving sins that she knew gained not just the displeasure but the wrath of Allah subhana wa ta’ala, she exposed her gravest sins and lewd acts like never before, shocking myself and my husband into absolute silence.

It began with her tale of losing sight of the right path ever since breaking up with a non-muslim boy, exploring the haram acts of partying and removing the hijab, sneaking around and lying to her own parents, freemixing and getting involved with multiple men – many of which were not muslims and were sexually active with her. She continued on to share about the break ups she experienced with someone she was previously with who she also have sexual relations with, to sleeping with his best friend out of spite, and then moving on to sleeping around aimlessly and eventually to meeting an out-of-town married colleague with kids at work with whom she had to work closely with in her own father’s multimillion dollar company. Despite being in her father’s constant proximity and in close working relations with all her siblings and in-laws, she had somehow managed to dive into an extramarital affair with him during the short weeks he was in town. This was a married man with several children and a deeply trusting loyal wife who truly loves him. A man who was promising the world to Yasmina instead, and making false claims of leaving his wife and children for her all the while pissing all over her honour, dignity, and rights as a woman who should have been careful of her own dignity and honour to begin with. This was a man who happily got into bed with another woman at the first chance he got from being away from his wife and kids without marrying her and taking what is rightfully not his, and a woman who allowed it, and welcomed it.

I remembered my shock rattled my very core. I looked at Yasmina and I couldn’t see my friend anywhere anymore. It felt like my instinct was screaming something I didn’t yet understand as my husband carefully adjusted his control of his reaction. He remained quiet and calm, unflinching and non-reactive. He listened quietly and said barely a word to the girl. I only recall him withdrawing quietly until he simply made an excuse to spend some time in the fresh air with our child because his iman was simply screaming at him to get away from… her. I remember instinctively scolding her and hitting her repeatedly because I was angry that she was foolish and careless in facing the wrath of Allah subhana wa ta’ala.

I was in deep shock as she carried on her story while I wrestled my inner turmoil. What used to be simple deep love I had for a friend turned into absolute disgust and crippling fears I never considered I would ever have about having her around me, let alone my husband and child. In the time she shared about falling for a married man who she claimed to have deceived her about choosing to love her over his wife, to the intimate tales of how the hotel nights were no longer enough, to her she manufacturing a fake pregnancy that left him reeling in fright to force him to choose her. It was the threat of a sharpened sword swaying over his reality, a bomb that could destroy his home, and fracture his marriage, break his wife and crush his children. That was what turned my stomach and left a bitter taste in my mouth. I didn’t recognise her despite hearing her familiar voice and her gentle smile and she tried to control her emotions in public. She shared it all and even told us openly that she had told some others she trusted at work, and several more. It was then that I realised this is no private matter any longer and it is that of a publicized sin. She continued on sharing with us that she eventually realised she had to leave him alone and let go so she finally admitted to mutual colleagues who knew the story and the foolish fella himself that there was no baby and there was never one to begin with. That she was hurt and she just wanted him. She lamented about her regret in the aftermath of the people who supported her emotionally during that affair thinking a baby was in the mix, how they were outraged and they abandoned her, finally seeing her as a sneaky villain rather than the victim of a man who used her and took no responsibility of her nor accountability of his actions. She admitted grief and repentance, pledging that she wants to change and return to Allah subhana wa ta’ala. My boiling heart cooled quickly and I thought to myself, “perhaps Allah deems me worthy in guiding her, in saving others from themselves.”

And so it was her solemn swear to return to Allah subhana wa ta’ala and repent that resolved me. Those few months I was there in town, I took to keeping her under my wings, even charging my true closest friend to caring and assisting her in her journey. We spent those months helping her strive to be better. We rallied against her wardrobe to help her dress more modestly to protect her despite her claim to struggle because her mother was disapproving of it and feels it was not professional or attractive and her father heavily disliked and disapprove of it for similar reasons. We rallied in striking out non-mahrams from her life, but she continue to allow a select few into her social media, carry on her private messages and her social interactions with her brother-in-laws with the claim that they were no different than that of real brothers. During this, my husband never said a word about that day since and kept a quiet restraint of his speech and impressions following that conversation. From what I sensed at the time, he didn’t trust her near him nor did he trust her near me. He never spoke a word to her again, nor did he look upon her even by accident when they happen to meet once or twice. It was much later on that he did mentioned to me that such a person was dangerous to our own home and iman, and that cutting or straining such ties is better than trying to help someone who didn’t want to change or truly be helped. While we did the best we could, two months is not enough to pull someone out of that deep a hole and leave floating on her own. Eventually, I had to leave and return home to my husband. And then the fallout happened. 

For some weeks, she became quiet and resentful, she began her typical silence that frustrated me for the first time. It worried me because I was hell-bent on wanting to help her through those days and keep her on her path toward Allah subhana wa ta’ala, to protect her from fitnah and falling back into the dangers she was in. I finally confronted her and she admitted to blaming me for going clubbing the day (perhaps after) I left, claiming she regressed because she grieved my absence. It outraged me. For a while I couldn’t comprehend why someone would claim to do something only for the sake of Allah subhana wa ta’ala but turns around and points the finger at my back for falling into sin as though I was entirely responsible for their progress in this dunya just because I promised to support and be there with her through that journey. I made no promises to stay in the same country and she knew of my return. I only swore to be the voice of morality and reason, that I would guide and remind and keep my best efforts for her. But at the first sight of my prioritising my family, she instantly rationalised her regression as that of my own fault. I remember thinking firmly that I was right to prioritise my child and husband and returning to my husband’s home when he called for me to return. That was the hallmark of an obedient wife seeking the pleasure of Allah subhana wa ta’ala so surely she had to understand that she will not and cannot be put first before my responsibilities to my husband and child. It took an angry phone call from me before we somehow resolved that distinction.

Yet, it took her some weeks before she got over it and there began the efforts of keeping in contact and working through progress. But stranger things started happening, hiding and deflecting answers to simple questions, keeping silent when being reminded and heavily corrected about non-mahram boundaries, and then came the bombshell that became my final straw. My closest friend who has been trying to support her in my place – something I had openly declared to Yasmina about because I knew she needed a physical person in these vulnerable period – admitted to me in tears about having to deal with Yasmina’s requests of hiding details and incidents because she didn’t like how I was intolerant of the grey areas. I had made it explicitly clear to her that non-mahram are non-negotiables for her and that she must and have to start being strict with herself if she wish to protect her hayaa and her jannah. Instead, my friend broke down in distress at the trauma of having to hear her ’’trauma dump’’ the shocking recent incident (after I had left) of her maternal uncle-in-law sexting her and trying to start sexual relations with her which led to her aunt and mother confronting her and her lying profusely to cover it up because she ’’did not want to destroy their marriage and break her mother’s heart’’. Hearing the emotions crack through in my friend’s voice over the phone broke me. This was my friend who brought me closer to Allah subhana wa ta’ala. The one who I pray will be my friend in jannah. The one whose heart is pure and gentle. And so, having to hear her share her fears of Yasmina being in promixity even to her own father and in her home after that incident made me wary of everything I had ever known and trusted about Yasmina from the beginning.

I spent weeks after that thinking and reflecting. Looking back, I then realised that each incident with a boy or a man that she came across always began with excessive friendliness and kindness that were not warranted and were dangerous to not just her but them. In a span of less than a decade, she had been in romantic relations with so many unavailable men. She had singlehandedly damaged two marriages where children were involved – three if you counted her maternal aunt’s –, participated in sharing her own sinful affairs beyond needed and to a lot of people, lying, participating in publicised zina so much that I couldn’t deny my repulse any further. Once is a mistake, twice shows a pattern, thrice proves it a choice.

Much like feeling dunked in ice water, my fears and doubt finally found me. Finally, I shared with my closest friend, my best friend, the fears that had begun to take root within my heart about Yasmina. I had asked her if she ever felt that it was a mistake being relaxed about my husband having met her once or twice during those months and finally she admitted to me that she had found it uncomfortably unsettling that Yasmina would excessively compliment my husband and tell me how lucky we were to be together and for me to have him and vice versa. When I finally spoke to my husband, he confirmed what I had suspected. He was repulsed by the girl’s nature but for the sake of careful manner of addressing the matter, he chose not to immediately jump into asking that I keep away or cut contact with Yasmina. He noticed her excessive warmth that made him cower away – for he was a married man and her tales of jumping into affairs was a severe warning of her character for him. My best friend eventually admitted that she was unsure if I had picked up any of it and so she didn’t know how to address it either. I finally spoke to a mutual friend between Yasmina and myself – someone who married into Yasmina’s maternal extended family relations – and shared everything to which she validated my distress and all but agreed wholeheartedly that Yasmina was dangerously careless in sharing such things near my family. 

I then contacted Yasmina and tried to have a conversation about it before eventually resorting to strain our ties and deliberately letting her know of the choice of distancing I was prepared to make. For months after, I did wonder if I did the right thing for the sake of Allah subhana wa ta’ala, my children’s safety and my marriage. Did I overreact or cast nasty assumptions and acted holier-than-thou in my judgment and choice? Was my choice showing that I was arrogant or egoistic in my views of her? It was over a year later that I was contacted by her with a wedding invite. She was getting married to a famous entertainer. My heart softened and I thought to myself, she finally found a partner who can resolve these issues of fornication and zina for her. I relaxed and once in a while contacted her very gradually and carefully see if it was worth reconnecting. It felt like meeting her all over again for the first time, nothing alarming, just the same Yasmina who listened, who welcomed, who was positive and bright in her nature, friendly and vibrant as she usually was. I began to relax more and welcomed more intimate conversations, trying hard to rescue the relationship that we used to have, I opened up and she somewhat did the same. So I took a risk and met her the next time I was in town with our mutual friend a couple months ago. I wanted to see if I made the right choice in not severing our ties entirely in hopes that she had change and be better, worthy of being in my inner circle once again. Because it wasn’t that she was inherently bad, she brought light days that were dark for me, and kept herself close to ibadah  and maintained her tawheed when it mattered most. I recalled the good in her and her mother, the love they shared for their guests. The commitment they made to prayers and sunnahs. The efforts they continue to make till today in repentance, and dhikr, and the deeds that brings light into one’s heart and home. Up until before that day that she shared it all, I saw nothing but goodness in my relationship with them. I yearned to be much like them, keeping up with sunnahs, being consistent in my ibadahs, strengthening my relationship with Allah subhana wa ta’ala… I wondered if we would ever fall back into what it used to be.

But Allah subhana wa ta’ala answered me very quickly and easily. When I asked several times if her mother would join us she never answered, avoided the topic and was keeping her away from being in contact with me – my best guess was that she may be afraid of what I knew and had to say or could do – the weeks before we met, the groupchat felt different and colder, carefully responded and no longer the same. Maybe she didn’t trust me anymore to open up with me, or maybe she felt betrayed by my abandonment or by my responses to the times where I gave her no grace when she admitted her wrongdoings and haram actions. The day of meeting, I brought my best friend with because I couldn’t manage alone with two children and being heavily pregnant. I remembered clearly when telling them this, neither responded, commented or welcomed the information. Simply stayed silent in the chat. And upon meeting, they spent all but five minutes conversing with me and catching up, barely greeting my children and sitting on the opposite side of the table keeping to their conversations and to themselves. Made plans after lunch just between them and I could hear it all. I looked upon her fingers that carried sparkling jewelry I knew cost extravagantly, matching the excessive wedding she had and the strange laments of her sharing with me weeks before her wedding that she was in serious debt with a lot of people. I recall the extravagance I witnessed on her social media as the message echoed in my mind of her claims to not be able to afford it and being in heavy debt. The girl with a multimillion dollar father. Flashes of memories flooded through my mind and I remember old incidents where she would talk about having no money to pay for this or that and how difficult it was – things we barely middle income earners could clear with our mediocre checks. I used to find it incredibly strange that she would say such things for a daughter of a man who funded the built of a massive mosque in his late fathers’ name and had a Lamborghini in his name, who owns a massive three story home with built-in elevator, multiple maids, butlers and chauffeurs in one of the most expensive cities in the world. It made me uncomfortable that she sat across me yet again deceptive in her speech. It made me realise that she had not changed. Nothing had really changed. She was the same person she had always been. Just… married this time. 

It was then that I realised it. It wasn’t that we came from different worlds. It wasn’t that she was a bad person or that she had made grievous unforgivable mistakes. Pfft, as though we all haven’t had our own self-sabotaging embarrassing sins that we are deeply ashamed of. It was that the truth of a woman’s character is that how she presents herself. Not at her best presented self, but when she doesn’t know someone was watching closely. The fact is, the most grievous mistake she had made was tarnishing her own reputation in the eyes of the people she claims to have trusted her secrets with. It wasn’t that they would spread the tale that she had to be afraid of. It was that she had permanently torn down the protective veil Allah subhana wa ta’ala mercifully granted her in order to maintain her silatulrahim and her relationship with people who have grown to love that version of her that was so lovable.

It didn’t matter that she may have changed and repented by the end of it. It didn’t matter that she could put it past her since then. She may have moved forward from her past, but the people she left behind to swallow that mess were entitled to cast their judgment and impressions of her because she allowed it with her speech. It wasn’t that she welcomed men into her bed that eroded how people viewed her. It was that she told them about it. I sat there feeding my toddler daughter while I watched her and our mutual friend freely chat and turned to watch my best friend lovingly pay attention to my son and fed him lunch. There was a lesson there to be had. And a choice to be made.

In front of me was a woman who I knew had two different worlds, who I couldn’t seem to trust any longer and who I didn’t know if she would ever one day flip a switch and come after my own husband even if she was married. I quietly decided that that lunch was my final meeting with her. Gripping tightly onto the gifted book she gave me, we said farewell and parted ways. I had eventually opened the gift and found myself a book she bought me that made me laugh in shock. The irony of Yasmina sat in my hands, a book on how to strengthen and improve one’s marriage within the bounds of Islam.

Yasmina taught me the most important thing in my life. Never be afraid to hasten away from someone, and do not doubt the protection of Allah subhana wa ta’ala for straining those ties for you. Our responsibility is to protect our circle of people we surround ourselves with, and if they decide to share their sins with you it is not necessarily for youto help them. In fact, it could be His warning to protect your family and your akhirah. Trust is a fragile thing. Even the smallest of deceptions and lies, things that matter so little like trivial information that does not concern you can make you doubt whether a person is trustworthy or not. It makes you question if a person with history of wrecking marriages could do it again. To you. Our spouses and children are most precious to us, would we ever risk this and allow such a person to be near them? I had caught her lying too many times, and the trigger made my decision final was her talking about being in debt to someone who knew what debt truly meant whilst parading in money like she wasn’t. A person who had millions in her father’s name to save her just in case. Someone who claimed the strangest of lies like how turban hijabs were ugly and she didn’t understand why people still do them and yet, have willingly done so for herself. Someone who lies so easily and twists her tales so convincingly that you believe she was innocent. A girl who drew everyone in, and wrecked three marriages and without blinking an eye telling it to anyone who would hear.

This is not a simply sharing of a woman. This is a warning to my reader. Be very careful who you surround yourself with. Who is near you? Your children? Your husband? Do you really think you can trust a woman near your husband? Sometimes it is not the men that strays, rather, it is the siren that seduces and shaitan encouraging it. In a world fueled by fitnah, know what your daughters and sons are involved in, do not blindly trust them to manage their own affairs. Take it seriously that they should not freemix. Prepare yourselves to talk about sex with your children openly and answer their questions. Talk to your sons and daughters well enough so you mutually agree about marriage in their future because the tests such nafs is not for the weak. Understand that they may marry young and find the beauty in dating like their peers and reap the benefits of akhirah for it rather than stand in their way with demands of self-sufficiency first or glamorous walimas for your sake. Celebrate them wanting to settle down young because that is more beloved than to allow them to date or struggle to keep their gaze down. Encourage them to settle down, and be open to support and seek the best of spouses for them. Can you truly die in peace if your children are not settled? Screen their friends and your own and cast aside those dangerous to your peace. Do not take it lightly when you hear of a person (man or woman) who jumps into many relationships amongst you or them. If you must be unreasonable and shocking, then let it be so if it means keeping fitnah away from your husbands and children. You are their protection and they are yours. But most importantly, do not trust even the closest and most trusted amongst you complacently.

Fitnah can happen anytime, to anyone, and with anyone. If you are careless, you are next.