Saturday arrived wrapped in perfect weather. The sun was shining brightly; the neighbors were hosting a barbeque; the aroma of caramelized chicken was travelling over the fence. Across the road I saw children splashing in a pool shrieking with delight while another neighbor with a straw-hat was mowing his lawn. A young couple pushed a stroller down the sidewalk. Today made people abandon their homes and suddenly remember parks existed.

I was waiting by the front door with the car keys in one hand. And waiting. And waiting. And waiting. “Habibati!”. No answer, I leaned around the corner.

She stood in front of the hallway mirror adjusting her khimar for what appeared to be the forty-seventh time. “Come on,” I said, “We’re going to be late.” “It’s crooked again”. “It isn’t.” “It is.” “It isn’t.”

I walked over and stood behind her. For a moment I studied the reflection. Then I nodded seriously, “You’re right.” She looked up immediately, “It is?”

“Hold the keys, let me try”. She turned around and I fumbled with her khimar strap. She narrowed her eyes, “Are you sure you’re not making it worse?”. I smiled, “No, you’re done.”

She looked in the mirror, her eyes went big “What did you do? I need to start over.” “Nope, we’re going now. You’re pretty”. Before she could protest, I grabbed her around the waist and lifted her slightly off the ground.

As I carried her to the door, both of us laughing, the cat walked in fully soaked in water. “Oh no, did the kids shoot you with their guns again? You really need to talk to our neighbors”. I sighed, “Will do, In sha Allah. He’ll be fine in no time, it’s so sunny today. Here are your sun glasses, Misses.” She smiled.

I placed her down and walked over to open the car door for her. A few minutes later we were driving through the city. The roads were busy. Children raced across sidewalks. Cyclists appeared out of nowhere. Somebody was walking three dogs at once, which looked significantly more stressful than advertised.

My wife sat beside me looking out the window. I glanced over. “You know, you could have taken your own car, I don’t want you to walk home late.” She didn’t even look at me. “No.”

“Hey, I’ll be home by Monday evening, In sha Allah. The boys and I will go camping, when we hike, I’ll take some really nice pictures for you… “ She turned toward me, “I know, I just want to spend some time with you before you go. Umm Maryam can drive me home, so don’t worry.” I smiled, “Fair enough.”

The park was already crowded by the time we arrived. Pigeons were being chased around through open fields while families occupied every patch of shade they could find. I parked beneath a row of old trees.

“We’re right there,” she said. “I know.” “We can literally see Umm Maryam. She’s waving me over”, she laughed. I got out of the car. “What are you doing?”, she asked surprised. “Walking you over so you can salvage every second. Let’s go”. I could see the joy in her eyes. Worth it. Together we crossed the winding path beneath the trees.

Umm Maryam was waiting near a wooden bench overlooking the lake. We exchanged salams, a few pleasantries. Then my wife looked at me, “Aren’t you going to be late?” “It’s fine, the brothers can survive a few extra minutes without me.” “That’s debatable.” “True”, I laughed. I stepped back. “Call me when you’re heading home.” “I will, promise”, she answered. Only then did I leave.

As I walked back toward the car, I glanced over my shoulder one last time. The two of them were already talking while the lake shimmered behind them.

I watched him disappear around the bend of the path before turning back toward Umm Maryam. She followed my gaze; a small smile appeared. “He’s good to you.” The comment caught me slightly off guard. Alhamdulillah. “He is.” Umm Maryam nodded.

The breeze carried an herbaceous scent across the lake while ducks drifted lazily across the water. I think I spotted a rat rushing in between the reeds.

“So?” Umm Maryam asked immediately. “How was your talk with the sister?” I smiled. “She survived.” “Alhamdulillah.”

“More than survived, actually.” I picked a loose blade of grass from my abaya. “She was nervous when she arrived.” I thought about the café, the lemonade, the cupcake and her questions. “It went better than I expected.”

“Meaning?” “She came looking for questions.” I smiled. “I think she left thinking about something much bigger.” Umm Maryam nodded slowly. “Good.”

For a moment we sat quietly. A cyclist rolled past, a dog barked in the distance. Then I glanced sideways at her. “What about you?” She looked confused. “What about me?”

“When are you going to start looking again?” The question landed exactly how I expected it to. A mixture of surprise, a grain of discomfort and the look of somebody who had hoped the conversation would take significantly longer before arriving there.

She shook her head. “You sound exactly like my mother.” “That’s because your mother is right.” “Wow. Thanks.”

I smiled and tapped her arm, “Umm Maryam.” She looked out across the water. For the first time since arriving, she didn’t immediately answer. Her playful expression faded slightly, just enough for me to notice.

“Honestly?” she asked quietly. I nodded. “I don’t know.”, she exhaled. The breeze tugged gently at the edge of her khimar. For a moment neither of us spoke. Then she laughed it off softly, trying to find the right words. “It’s strange. I used to think getting married was the difficult part.” Her eyes remained fixed on the lake. “Now I think trying again might be harder.”

My chest tightened. “Because of what happened?” Umm Maryam smiled weakly. “Partly.” She sighed. “To be honest, I knew marrying a man who already had a wife would come with challenges.”

I looked at her. “Why did you actually agree to it?” She laughed softly. “I’ve been asked that so many times” She turned her gaze down, absentmindedly rolling the fabric of her sleeve between her fingers before she continued. “The honest answer?” I nodded.

“Well, because I wanted to marry him.” I blinked, this answer felt too simple. “You’re surprised?” She looked over and gave a lopsided smile, clearly amused by the confusion on my face. “No… but considering that it was your first marriage and you chose to be a second wife…” She shook her head gently. “I wasn’t forced nor trying to save anyone. I wasn’t sitting there thinking this was my only opportunity.”

The lake rippled quietly beneath the afternoon sun. “Of course I was a bit unsure at first, but I gave it a fair chance. He asked about me and when I got to know him, I was pleased with his character and deen.” A small shrug. “So, I agreed.”

For a moment neither of us spoke. “I think people assume strange things about women who choose polygyny.” I pointed out. Umm Maryam laughed. “People assume strange things about everyone. They don’t really practice having good thoughts of others.” “True.”

She looked out across the lake again. The children started playing soccer on the grass. “Some people assume there must be something wrong with her. Maybe she is not a virgin anymore and she had no other choice or she is old and couldn’t find a suitor. But that was never how I saw it.” Her fingers traced the edge of the bench.

“Some women would never choose it, and that’s okay. But some women would, and that’s okay too.” “Mhm.” I nodded slowly. For a few moments we watched the children running and screaming after the ball. Scored. Then I looked back at her. “So you were one of those women.” A small smile appeared. “I guess I was.”

“Most women I know would immediately say no, why didn’t you?” I asked. Umm Maryam tilted her head. “Hmm. I think because I never saw marriage as the goal. It isn’t just about building the life I want. Allah knows better what is good for me than I do so if Allah chose this path for me, then I would surrender to it because His wisdom is greater than my feelings.”

A breeze stirred the reeds. She folded her hands in her lap. “That said, of course I knew there would be challenges, we’re all being tested.” A small laugh escaped her. “I wasn’t sitting there thinking women suddenly stop feeling jealousy. But at the same time, I knew He wouldn’t test me with something more than I can take.”

That made me smile. “There is a reason Allah created us the way He did.” She nodded. “Exactly. But I also knew that my feelings don’t know everything.” The children erupted into cheers again. Apparently, another goal had been scored.

Umm Maryam smiled faintly. “There are things we dislike that end up being good for us.” I agreed with her nodding. “And some things we desperately want end up harming us. People just chase comfort all time, but that’s not how worship works. If Allah chose to test me through that path, then perhaps there was a lesson in it I needed.”

I nodded. “Allahumma Barik, wise words. It’s true, alhamdulillah no matter whether Allah has written a monogamous or polygynous marriage.”

“Barak Allahu Feeki. Well, to finish the story, when the proposal came… I wasn’t asking whether the situation was as my imagination always pictured, but…” Her voice softened. “ Whether I could see Allah in that path.”

That sounded far more reasonable than most of the arguments people had about it. I really liked her perspective, but it also made me wonder what went wrong.

As if reading my thoughts, Umm Maryam laughed softly. “You want to know what happened.” I felt slightly caught. “A little.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Okay okay, a lot.” That made her smile.

For a moment she watched the children. A toddler who apparently got pushed by one of the boys playing cried, rubbing his eyes and holding his scratched knee. The grass had left a bright green smear across one side of his white shorts. One mother came rushing while the other lectured her son.

She nodded towards them. “Do you still have those lolly pops?” I searched my bag. “Uh, let’s see… I don’t think so, should’ve restocked… no, found one!”

We stood up from the bench and walked over. I crouched down to the toddler, hiding the candy inside my closed fists. “Hey, would you like a…” I popped my hands open, “…lollypop?“ The child blinked in surprise. I tucked it away and revealed it again with a playful, “Woop!” He laughed. I handed him the candy and turned to the mother who seemed relieved.

“Thank you, this is my first time being out with him alone”. “Oh, that sure is stressful. Can we help you?”. She shook her head and blinked. “It’s okay, I brought my entire house in my diaper bag.” We laughed and Umm Maryam and I continued to walk around the park.

“Subhan’Allah those lollys are true life savers. The next package is on me, I want some ajr too.” Umm Maryam laughed. “Sure.” I smiled. “So, what happened, Umm Maryam?”

Her face became more focused. “Right. Well, the thing is that nobody lied or intentionally hurt others. When people hear ‘divorce’, they immediately start looking for a villain.”

She sighed. “I believed I could handle it. He believed that and so did his first wife.” The breeze stirred the grass around our feet. “Maybe all of us were sincere. Accepting theory is just different from actually living it.”

For a while we walked in silence. Then I asked quietly, “What do you mean by living it?”

Umm Maryam thought for a moment. “Hmm. The best way I can describe it is that we talked about it beforehand. Discussed expectations and concerns.” The path curved around a patch of wildflowers.

She smiled faintly. “Well, everybody believed they could handle it…” The smile disappeared. “When the marriage actually happened though, the emotions became real. His wife wasn’t an evil woman. She was trying and sacrificing for me, but it was very hard for her.”

An empty ice cream cart passed by. “Once she was hurting, my husband started hurting because he loved her. Their little children also started to get affected.” I looked at her, my stomach clenched.

She continued. “And when he was hurting, I started hurting because I cared about him. Also, I felt so bad for her because I could see how much she was struggling.” The lake shimmered quietly beside us. Her eyes turned glassy, I turned to her and pulled her into a hug. “Hey, you’re okay.” I tried.

Then her heart just dropped out from the depths of her inside, and I could feel her ribcage shaking violently. “Then she felt bad,” she whispered, her voice thick “because she knew she was struggling after all our talks and she knew that this was my first marriage.”

For a moment neither of us spoke. I couldn’t hold it in any longer and tears silently slipped down my cheek. “Even though they were not my children, I felt bad for them too. And my husband felt bad for me.” Her breath hitched. “honestly, it just became a circle.”

We were still standing there, she slowly calmed. “You see? Nobody wanted to hurt anyone. Somehow everybody was hurting though.” She sniffled. “Let’s walk.”

For a while only the crunch of our footsteps on the gravel accompanied us. Then Umm Maryam spoke again. “Well, eventually we had to ask ourselves…” I looked at her. She swallowed. “What happens if we keep going? Will we all be able to please Allah Subhanahu Wa Ta’Ala?”

The question hung heavily between us. “The children were affected. His wife was suffering. He was in pain and stressed out.” She shook her head gently. “And I wasn’t okay either. I felt so guilty for being there, jealous and I was fighting whatever Shaytan whispered to me.”

The path carved into a crossroad; we chose the path towards the city center. The sun flickered through the leaves above us.

“We all tried for a while hoping things would settle. But I just felt more and more like it was better for the children, and their relationship of course, if I just take the bullet and walk away. I’m all grown up but those children don’t deserve to grow up in another broken home.”

My chest tightened. “Nobody wanted that.” I said. Umm Maryam shook her head. “That’s what made it so difficult. His wife wanted me to stay because she knew what this marriage meant to me. I on the other hand wanted to leave because I could see what it was doing to her. And he wanted everybody to stay because he cared about all of us.” She laughed frustrated. It wasn’t funny.

“Subhan’Allah. Everyone was pulling in different directions, trying to do what they thought was right.”

The city center slowly came into view beyond the trees. Umm Maryam looked down at the path. “At some point it’s not about what anyone wanted. But about what was right.”

We turned right towards the busy avenue. “What do you mean?” I asked. She exhaled slowly. “I loved being married, I was excited to see our life unfold together. I started to have feelings for him.” Her voice remained calm. “And I know he cared about me too.”

We stood at the sidewalk waiting to cross the road; the park behind us. The sunlight would soon turn yellow. “My nafs wanted this so badly but that’s not enough reason to hold onto it.”

I swallowed. Umm Maryam continued. “It was clear that staying meant everyone continued suffering, so the question was whether we were holding onto this marriage for Allah or for ourselves.”

The words settled heavily between us. “The hardest part was realizing that letting go might be more pleasing to Allah.”

Cars passed. People hurried to catch a bus. Somewhere in the mess a delivery driver rang his bell aggressively and yelled “watch it!”

I looked at Umm Maryam. “How did you deal with it?” For a moment she didn’t answer. The pedestrian light turned green and we crossed the road together.

“Not so gracefully at first.” She smiled faintly. “I cried a lot, felt like the only thing that I was hanging onto was Allah. It felt like pure loss and no one on this earth could understand me. I felt so incredibly vulnerable and Allah was the only One holding my heart together.”

The city hummed around us. Umm Maryam adjusted the strap of her bag under her khimar. “In fact, I still had hope that maybe during my ‘Iddah suddenly everything would work out.”

The honesty of it caught me off guard. “And I missed being married.” The afternoon sunlight stretched across the pavement. “But at the same time, I knew something.” “What?”

She looked ahead. The answer came immediately without hesitation. “There was good in this marriage and when Allah decreed its end, there was good in that too.”

She sighed. “Well, it still hurts, some days more than others. But eventually I stopped staring at what I had lost. Alhamdulillah, Allah has taught me a lot through it.”

We entered the pedestrian zone leading to the mosque and spotted the ice cream cart from earlier; now freshly refilled with colorful sorbets topped with fruits and sprinkles. It passed by us on the way back to the park it seems.

I glanced at Umm Maryam. “Then why is trying again harder?” She laughed softly. Probably because she had asked herself the same many times.

“I think because before my marriage, everything was theoretical. Look, I knew divorce, heartbreaks existed, but actually experiencing it is different.” She suddenly pulled me to the side before I could step into a smear of unrecognizable sludge on the ground. “Before, I was risking something I had never had. Now I know exactly what can be lost.”

Slowly a minaret appeared in the distance, surrounded by flourishing apple and cherry trees. Some uncles stood on ladders harvesting the ripe fruit while some aunties carefully filled them in plastic bags.

Children ran around collecting what fell on the ground. A boy came excitedly running at us carrying a bunch of bags full of cherries, “Salam Alaikoum, sisters. For you!”

He placed a bag so quickly in my hands, I almost dropped it. Before we could thank him, he had already run off to some sisters behind us. “Guess that’s a free snack.” Umm Maryam snorted. I chuckled. “Yeah. Alhamdulillah, I love how our community recently pulled together.”

Then I remembered. “But Umm Maryam, if you now know what can be lost, doesn’t that mean you might not try again?”

Umm Maryam smiled. “No, fear isn’t a reason to stop. Otherwise, nobody would get married, have children or close friends.” A small shrug. “In any relationship you will experience hurt, just as we sometimes have our disagreements. It’s the mindset.” She tapped her forehead. “If you anticipate hurt because you think that pain will be permanent, of course you’d be scared. That’s not how it works though. I know even if I get hurt, Allah will carry me through it again and I will move on.”

I thought about that. “So the goal isn’t to make sure your heart never gets hurt.“ She nodded. “Yep. The goal is to make sure your heart remains attached to Allah no matter what happens.”

I smiled. “So, you’re saying there is still hope?” Umm Maryam looked away. “Hmm Maybe. I just haven’t found someone yet.”

The minaret rose above the trees now, close enough to hear voices coming from the courtyard. Then Umm Maryam glanced sideways at me. “You know, if I get married again, I’m blaming you.” I laughed. “For what?” “For this conversation.” “You’re welcome.” “No, seriously.” She pointed at me. “I was perfectly comfortable avoiding the topic.” She sighed heavily. “I knew I should have never answered your first question.”

I grinned. We arrived at the backdoor in the courtyard; some sisters came out smiling and greeting us. “Let’s go pray.” I said.

“I’m on period but I’ll wait right here.” Umm Maryam jingled her car keys. “And then we can drive you home, In sha Allah”.

The drive home felt peaceful. The sun had already begun sinking below the horizon, painting the fields in amber and the trunks of the birches in gold. For a while neither of us talked. Comfortable silence.

Eventually she glanced over. “You know…” “Mhm?” “I’m still blaming you.” I laughed. “Of course you are.” A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. But this time it looked lighter.