Chapter 1: A Heart That Keeps Praying
RALISA.
I used to think life had a clear order.
You study.You graduate.You get a job.You build your life.And then… everything else falls into place.
No one tells you that sometimes life follows the order—but still leaves out the part you care about the most.
Love.
By the time I was twenty-three, I had already checked most of the boxes people call “success.”
I had a degree.I had a stable job.I had a routine that made me look like I was doing fine.
But inside me… there was a quiet emptiness I didn’t know how to explain.
It wasn’t sadness.
Not exactly.
It was more like waiting for something that never arrives.
And the worst part was… everyone around me seemed to be moving forward in ways I wasn’t.
My friends were getting into serious relationships.Some were getting engaged.Others were already talking about marriage like it was the next normal step in life.
And I was still here.
Trying to understand why love felt so far away from me.
It started showing up in small ways.
At first, it was jokes.
“Ralisa, you are next,” they would say with laughter.
Then it became questions.
“Are you seeing anyone?”
And when I would smile and say no, they would give me that look.
The one that says something must be wrong with you.
But there was nothing wrong with me.
At least that’s what I kept telling myself.
The pressure didn’t come all at once.
It came slowly.
Like a sound you don’t notice until it becomes too loud to ignore.
I remember one evening sitting in a café with my girlfriends after work.
They were excited, laughing, talking over each other.
One of them was showing engagement photos.
Another was complaining about her boyfriend not replying fast enough.
And I just sat there… stirring my drink like I was part of the conversation.
But I wasn’t really there.
Because I had nothing to add.
No boyfriend stories.No engagement plans.No late-night romantic problems.
Just silence.
That night, I went home feeling heavier than usual.
Not because something bad had happened.
But because I started realizing something uncomfortable.
I was surrounded by love stories… but I wasn’t inside any of them.
And that is a very lonely place to be.
A few weeks later, my friends planned a movie night.
It was supposed to be simple.
Girls only.
Fun.Laughter.Escape from stress.
I remember getting ready slowly that evening.
I didn’t even know why I cared so much about how I looked.
Maybe I just wanted to feel like I belonged somewhere.
When I arrived at the cinema, I noticed it immediately.
Something felt different.
They were already there.
But they weren’t alone.
One by one, I saw them sitting beside men.
Boyfriends.Fiancés.Partners.
They were laughing, sharing popcorn, leaning into each other like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I stood there for a moment, scanning the room.
Waiting to see if maybe I had missed something.
But there was no mistake.
I was the only one alone.
I smiled anyway.
Because that’s what you do when you don’t want to make things awkward.
We watched the movie together.
Or at least… they did.
I tried to focus on the screen.
But my mind kept drifting.
To the sound of couples whispering.To the feeling of sitting slightly apart from everyone else.To the quiet realization that I had become the “single friend” without even noticing when it happened.
Even the air conditioner felt colder than it should have been.
Like the room itself knew I didn’t belong there in the same way they did.
On the way home, I didn’t complain.
I laughed with them.I responded normally.I acted like everything was fine.
But inside me… something had shifted.
It wasn’t jealousy.
It was awareness.
A quiet, painful awareness that I was watching life happen for other people while standing slightly outside of it.
That night, when I got home, I didn’t turn on music.
I didn’t scroll my phone.
I just sat in silence for a long time.
Thinking.
And then, for the first time in a while… I prayed properly.
I am Muslim.
And I believe in the kind of prayers that come when you have nothing left to pretend about.
That night, I chose Tahajjud.
The world outside was asleep.
But I wasn’t.
I sat on my prayer mat in the quiet darkness of my room, the city outside completely unaware of what was happening inside me.
And I spoke.
Not perfectly.
Not beautifully.
Just honestly.
“Ya Allah,” I whispered, “I feel like I am behind in something I don’t understand.”
My voice broke slightly.
“I have worked hard for everything I have. My education. My job. My stability. But my heart feels… empty.”
I paused.
Because I didn’t want to lie to God.
Not even in prayer.
Then I said it.
“I want love.”
Not the confusing kind.Not the painful kind.Not the kind that leaves you questioning your worth.
I took a breath.
“I want a man who fears You. A man who is kind, respected, and known for good character. A man who will not confuse me or hurt me.”
My hands trembled slightly.
“I just want peace in love.”
When I finished, I stayed there for a while.
Not crying.
Not smiling.
Just quiet.
Because sometimes prayer doesn’t feel emotional.
It feels like surrender.
I didn’t know then that I had just asked for something that would change the entire direction of my life.
Not immediately.
Not in the way I expected.
But in ways I would only understand much later.
Two weeks later… I met Mussa.
