Tonight, my chest felt heavy.
Not because someone said something cruel.
Not because my heart was broken.
But because I realized how much hope I had been carrying without even noticing.
I tried to stay calm.
I smiled.
I replied politely.
I told myself not to expect too much.
Yet somehow, after the conversation ended, the silence became louder than the words we exchanged.
Then the tears came.
Without permission.
Without warning.
I kept asking myself,
“Why am I crying?”
Maybe I wasn’t crying because of him.
Maybe I was crying because I was tired.
Tired of wondering.
Tired of waiting.
Tired of trying to understand someone’s heart while struggling to understand my own.
The man I met in Makkah has never promised me forever.
He never asked me to wait.
He never told me that I was the one.
Yet somehow, my heart quietly began to hope.
Not because of grand romantic gestures.
But because he came back after walking away once,
And when someone returns, hope has a way of returning, too.
Perhaps that’s why uncertainty hurts so much.
It doesn’t tell you to stop.
But it doesn’t invite you to move forward either.
It leaves you standing in the middle, asking questions that no one else can answer.
“What are we?”
“Why did you come back?”
“Am I important to you, or am I simply someone you enjoy talking to?”
I don’t have those answers tonight.
All I have are tears.
And perhaps that is enough.
Because tears are not always a sign of weakness.
Sometimes they are simply prayers that have become too heavy to remain inside the heart.
So tonight, I let myself cry.
Not because I have lost someone.
But because I am learning that hope is beautiful… and also frightening.
I have always believed that Allah writes every meeting with perfect wisdom.
So maybe there was a reason our paths crossed in Makkah.
Maybe there is a reason we are still talking today.
Or maybe the lesson was never about finding him.
Maybe it was about finding myself.
Learning to trust Allah even when I don’t understand His plans.
Learning to love without demanding certainty.
Learning that peace is not found in knowing the future, but in believing that whatever Allah has written will always be better than whatever I could have planned myself.
Tonight, I don’t ask Allah to give me the answer I want.
I only ask Him to calm my heart.
Because sometimes, the greatest miracle isn’t finally knowing.
It’s finding peace while still waiting.
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