23 Ramadan 1441
A few Ramadans ago, I bumped into a person I hadn’t seen nor spoken to in years at a very large gathering.
The city does things like that.
He was chatting with a group of friends, stopped, fully turned toward me, smiled warmly, and said, emphasizing each word as if he relished it, “Sahar. Ullah. How are you?”
I quickly lowered my gaze, gathered my composure, willed myself to not melt into an awkward puddle of Sahar Ullah in front of our friends as we celebrated our serendipitous reunion, participated in fawning over his beautiful children whose photos he shared, and pretended the entire time that the last time we spoke, he did not ask me to marry him.