He Took Her Hand...

But Forgot the Weight of the Promise.

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You said the words, 'Yes I accept' thrice , each one sealing your loyalty, your commitment to a woman you now hold the greatest responsibility for.

Signing off the Nikkah contract, you beamed the brightest smile - proud, delighted to announce that you're finally married.

But amidst the smiles and celebration, did you pause to reflect the weight of what you just agreed to?

You fulfilled all the formalities, booking the most expensive hall, paying the price for the catering, yet when it came to her mahr, you hesitated.

What was meant to be a gesture of gift for her became a transaction that you resented from.

Do you see the irony?

You said she was the love of your life, yet you made her feel like a burden upon your shoulders.

You praised her beauty on the day she was dolled up as your bride. Now you barely notice her exhaustion, her quietness and the tears piling up within her eyes.

When after a long day of work she looks forward to hearing a kind word and all she gets is your irritation and complaints.

She longs to spend time with you, yet you give your best hours to video games or hanging out with friends.

You said I'll give you the perfect home, yet when she asked for a separate dwelling you dismissed it as a luxury, never a right from her Lord.

You quoted, 'The best of you is those who are the best to their wives' yet you allowed your worst self to live with her behind closed doors.

You took her body as if it's your property, ignoring her soul and her unspoken need to be held close.

She became an obligation you checked off whenever it suited you not a desire to be pursued with gentleness.

You said you'd honour her, yet you used religion to shame her.

You promised to protect her heart, but now you mock her sensitivity calling her overly dramatic and childish.

You confused your leadership role with control.

You said you care about her, but despised the people who raised her. You distanced her from her loved ones - calling it protection, but it was in reality control.

She put her life at stake for giving you kids - yet all you see is their innocence, never her sacrifice, nor her pain.

You rejoiced to call her the mother of your children. But when her body ached and her mind crumbled you told her she was overreacting with the change.

You saw the baby but not the body of the woman who carried it within her. The one who bled herself almost to death so that your lineage could live on.

You said she completes half of your deen, yet you left her unheard, barely seen.

You speak to the world with kindness, but order her with commands.

You always notice what's undone, but never approve of all that she's done.

Her voice softens when she speaks to you, but yours hardens replying back.

You take pride in quoting from the Quran but forget the mercy it offers when she's crying next to you.

You scroll pass the flawless faces online and forget that one face that wakes up beside you each day.

You say she's changed, but never wonder what parts of her died in your neglect!

You fear losing your respect and position in this world, But have you ever feared losing your place in the Akhira?

Marriage in Islam is not a privilege but a responsibility, an amanah.

A sacred trust that will be questioned.

The scales of your deeds would weigh heavily the Day no excuse will suffice.

When the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ said, "The believers who show the most perfect Faith are those who have the best behaviour, and the best of you are those who are the best to their wives".

That wasn't a compliment. It's a criterion to be met.

Your wife left the comfort of the only home she ever knew... The arms of the parents who bore her, the room that witnessed her achievements. The love for her mother's cooking. The giggles with her siblings. She left it all. For you.

She wrapped herself together, stepping into an unfamiliar place and called it 'our home'. Hoping that you'd be the safety she once felt in her father's presence. Hoping you'd be her best friend on how she shared her most deepest secrets with her sister. Hoping that you'd be the comfort place that her mother was. Hoping you'd be the reason behind her smile that her brother always brought.

But instead you left her, feeling cold in the house. Surrounded by concrete walls, but starved from warmth.

She doesn't say it out loud. She doesn't complain. But every time she calls her mother, her heart mourns for what has been left behind.

You were never expected to replace her family. But you were always supposed to be her other home.

Allah (SWT) mentions in the Quran,

"....And fulfill [every] commitment. Indeed, the commitment is ever [that about which one will be] questioned." (Surah Al Isra, Verse 34)

She trusted you with her life.

So ask yourself: Will you be able to say you were worthy of it when you stand before the One who gave her to you?