Fatima + Ibrahim — Portrait of a Young Couple

*Fatima + Ibrahim // Manhattan, New York*

Message from the couple:

Dear reader,

We hope you are doing well 🙂 Thank you in advance for taking your time to read our story.

You might notice a few differences between our story and the others in Portrait of a Young Couple. We wanted to take a moment and explain our motivations for keeping our story anonymous, replacing the more personal details from our individual lives for more emphasis on our collective journey, and highlighting photography that still captures the beauty of the scene while preserving the modesty of the intimacy between and around us.

We, like all creation, were created in pairs. The title of The One is reserved only for Him. From the moment we start breathing (or even earlier) there is a partner reserved for each one of us. And a beautiful partner requires you to be beautiful. We all have our strengths and weaknesses, but to come together and strive for excellence with each other shows us how marriage is half of faith in Islam. Love makes you better than you ever were. Love makes you sacrifice like you never have. And Love makes you never give up.

We share this story for a single purpose—to spread God’s good message as a glad tidings and as a warning, that the teachings of Islam will endow two partners to feel love and mercy for one another and find peace within each other. That trying to respect and abide by the trusts within each other will yield sweeter fruit.

Our goal was not to bring attention to ourselves. While the details of our lives have tremendously shaped who we have become, we thought they didn't do justice to the larger picture and motive here. We want to express our gratitude to God for this opportunity to please Him, and to do what will bring hope, ease, and joy to others while protecting us and our families from harm. We also know that we could never be truly grateful enough.

We thought it was best to not share too many pictures lest it makes people feel a certain way. We recognize that everyone is wrestling with their own realities, and the last thing we would want to do is create any sort of sadness within a heart. Rizq in the form of marriage arrives to people in accordance to when they are ready to receive this particular means of purification. We wouldn’t want anyone to look at our wedding pictures and it be a reason for frustration in their relationship with themselves or God. We hope that others would seek God, then seek their partner.

We’re both always trying to better ourselves, so we recognize the weaknesses of the human soul. We thought sharing our story in this unique way would be the most protective for our hearts. We want to discipline our ego and ensure that our deepest and most sincere intention is to please God and share how seeking Him helped us find each other.

We want to extend a huge thank you to Vincent who so beautifully and kindly crafted this story with our hopes and cautions in mind. While he is in fact such an expert storyteller, he is more just a wonderful and understanding friend.

We hope you enjoy the read.

Love,

Fatima and Ibrahim

One Sunday night in early October 2021, deep in the Catskill mountains of upstate New York and after the sun has already set on a chilly autumn day, Fatima, Ibrahim and I are lost on a hike.

We hadn’t meant to get lost, of course, nor had we planned to hike in the dark. But we’d started the day late, and then lengthened the two hour drive from New York City, where Fatima and Ibrahim live, to the Catskills with a few stops: at a masjid in a town along the highway (to conduct Fatima and Ibrahim’s afternoon prayers), at a cafe in New Paltz (to have their favorite order, a black bean burger served with peanut noodles), and at a farmer's market (to buy apple cider donuts and a key-lime pie as reward for after the hike).

It is 4pm when we finally reach a state park and venture on a four-mile trail in the forest, dense with life but empty of people, the air damp from a recent rain and the sky a light shade of gray. We walk through a clearing in the woods, and Ibrahim pauses to appreciate the tranquility around us. He looks at a river which flows to our right, flanked by trees whose leaves are just beginning to yellow. "I love how the water speeds up when the river narrows and slows down when it widens," he says, admiring the river’s path. His voice is soft, and sincere. We listen to a sonic evolution: gurgle, slosh, roar, trickle, echo; one long coil of sound.

Tears well in Fatima’s eyes. "What are you thinking about?" Ibrahim asks gently. "I'm just getting emotional," Fatima replies, rubbing her eyes and smiling. "Allah is so good."

Cloudy day yields to darker and darker night. By sunset at 6:30pm, we have only reached the hike’s halfway point. First, it becomes hard to see rocks or roots in our path. Then, it becomes hard to see the path itself. With twilight's help, nature reclaims the trail, erasing the difference between mankind's work and hers.

Ibrahim, unlike myself or Fatima, is prepared. He opens his backpack and takes out two headlamps, giving one to me and pulling the other over his head. He reaches for Fatima’s hand and leads us deeper into the forest.

It is only now, our vision narrowed to the headlamps’ small cones of light, that the red markings painted onto tree trunks and rocks, indicating the trail every few dozen feet, take on a different meaning. In the day, they were easy to see, bright and expected; at night, their presence feels more urgent and necessary. We’re grateful for their guidance.

Soon, we reach another clearing in the forest and stop for a break, turning off our headlamps to let the darkness swallow us. Ibrahim cranes his neck and looks straight up at the clouded sky. "How incredible that would be if we could see the stars right now," he sighs, disappointed.

We sit in silence for a few more minutes. Night, absent even the light of the moon or the stars, amplifies the forest’s sounds. Cicadas’ steady chirping rise to a deafen, and the rustling of a light breeze through the leaves sounds more like a roar.

We turn our headlamps back on and search for the next red marking, like how a child reaches for a stuffed animal to feel safe. None appear. The large clearing we’re in is on the side of a hill, and with a slight slope. Had we been climbing up the hill, or going down it? Or perhaps we entered from the side? None of us remembers, and each gap in the tree-line or bushes looks the same. For a few long minutes, finding the right path feels like walking through a labyrinth.

Finally, Ibrahim calls out. "I found one!" He points his headlamp to a tree about 20 feet away with a red marking painted on it; next to it is a narrow trail flanked by thick bushes.

Ibrahim turns to Fatima. "Baby," he says, "you know how I was talking to you before about how the Quran is like a map? That no matter where you are, it'll guide you back?" He points his headlamp to the next red mark on a rock just a few meters ahead of us. "It's like Allah is giving the red marks every little way, you know? So we don't get scared or lost." He pauses, and sounds grateful. "So frequently, He gives the signs."

Fatima hums in assent, and asks Ibrahim if he would recite something from the Quran. He pauses to think, and then chooses Surah Fussilat, the 41st Surah in the Quran and which, among other messages, reminds of the oneness of God and His signs to those who seek and believe.

"Bismillah al-rahman al-rahim,” Ibrahim begins, a phrase that translates to “In the name of God, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful,”

Haa Meeem
Tanzeelum Minar-Rahmaanir-Raheem
Kitaabun fussilat Aayaatuhoo Qur-aanan ‘Arabiyyal liqawminy ya’lamoon
Basheeranw wa nadheeran fa-a’rada aktharuhum fahum laa yasma’oon

Fatima joins him in soft harmony, and their voices become the melody against the even sound of our footsteps and the darkness around us. It is a song of prayer, gratitude, and reverence; it comforts us as we walk out of the forest and find our way back to the car.

Fatima and Ibrahim’s stories—their upbringings, their relationship, their struggles, their dreams—are ultimately, they told me, stories about God. Islam is to their lives as a large tree is to a weary traveler: what is visible—high branches, large masjids—provides shade and a place to gather. But what is invisible—deep roots, sincere prayer—reveals complexity and beauty available only to those who search and listen. (Islam, translated, means "humble submission to the will of God"; Muslims are "ones who submit to God.”)

Their worldview is straightforward, and in two parts. The first, that God provides meaning in the act of searching for Him in all of life. The second, that the Quran, consisting of 114 chapters or Surahs, and the Sunnah, the recorded interpretation and implementation of the Quran by the Prophet Muhammad, provide the framework for how to do that.

Everything else–every conviction, action, and event–stems from these two facts. Including, they say, their own connection. Fatima described meeting one another as a "divine reunion." "It really felt like we weren't meeting for the first time, and that we must have met in some other place in time,” she told me. “The compatibility of our souls felt so divine that there was no other way to explain it."

If I couldn't relate to the divinity of their emotions when they met, I could at least relate to the logistics: a mutual friend introduced them to one another. "He'd spent time with both of us individually," Ibrahim told me, "and had this moment of inspiration where he was just like, ‘You know, these two seem very similar.’" Their friend asked each to write a self-introduction, a practice common in their South Asian Muslim community. Fatima and Ibrahim both expressed interest, and received each other’s phone numbers.

Ibrahim interpreted Fatima’s appearance in his life as a divine sign. “I had been going through some challenges in my life,” Ibrahim said, “and I was really studying the Quran, looking for guidance.” He recalled two ayats, or verses, from Surah Al-Baqarah: “Or do you think that you will enter Paradise while such trial has not yet come to you as came to those who passed on before you? They were touched by poverty and hardship and were shaken until even their messenger and those who believed with him said, "When is the help of Allāh?" Unquestionably, the help of Allāh is near. ”

*Inside the masjid where Ibrahim and Fatima were married*

“The gist of the ayat is that everyone is going to be pushed to a point where they're going to say, ‘When will the help of God come?’” Ibrahim told me. “And I was feeling that way, like I needed that help. And that same night, our mutual friend texted me asking if I would be interested in meeting someone he thought I might connect well with.”

He recalled the sincerity with which he crafted his first words to Fatima. "I was writing my first message to her, and it was very long." Ibrahim became more animated, his hands swirling as he talked and his head shaking from side to side. "There was lightning and a thunderstorm going on outside, and each time there was a huge bolt or sound, I'd look at what I just wrote, and be like oh no no no, and rewrite it." (His description reminded me of the famous closing scene from The Shawshank Redemption, where Tim Robbins' character celebrates his freedom under the dramatic cover of a massive thunderstorm.)

Where Ibrahim felt conviction, Fatima felt impatience. Her eyes crinkled with laughter. "I was waiting, and just thinking, ‘Is this boy gonna actually text me?? ’" Like Ibrahim, Fatima had been praying often and reflecting deeply. "For the month before meeting Ibrahim, I was getting a lot of biodatas for marriage,” she said. “And I kept saying no to everyone, because none of them felt right.”

She explained her rationale. “This life is so short, and I'm really determined to give it to God. And I was struggling to imagine that with all these other proposals." Fatima had a simple prayer: "If he's not the one, please don't bring him into my life. Because I only want someone whom You love, and who loves You. And when Ibrahim reached out, that's exactly who he was."

When Fatima finally received Ibrahim's text, she was amazed. "His message was not like any other guy's, who'd just be like, 'Hey, what's up?' It was very thoughtful, and when I got it I jumped up and ran to my brother and told him, 'Look at this beautiful long message I just got!'" She and Ibrahim scheduled a phone call that evening; it lasted over six hours. "We talked about the big questions right off the bat,” Ibrahim said. “When she spoke about how she prayed to be with someone who loves God and whom God loves, and her struggles, and her life, I could see that we'd both been through things, and that we wanted to give our lives to God because we were so grateful for what He had given us."

Fatima turned to Ibrahim. "There was a point during that call when I actually muted myself to cry." She paused, and smiled. "Did you know that?" His eyes widened into a look of amazement and surprise. "I was just heaving, crying, thinking, 'Oh my God, what is happening?' Because I was listening and in a daze. Ibrahim was talking in a language that I understood so much, and that I didn't think someone else could."

Fatima’s religious upbringing often centered on the idea, and institution, of justice. Much of it was taught as a binary; what was haram, or impermissible, and what was halal, or permissible; what makes a “good” Muslim, and what makes a “bad” Muslim. Her focus, she said, was long about fitting herself into these bounds.

Outwardly, this often meant success—in school, clubs, leadership roles—and she carried herself in a way that shone bright and steady in places entangled with stress and frustration. She was someone whom everyone knew, no one disliked, and only a few people really knew well. She seemed, to many, as fitting well within the definition of being a “good” Muslim.

She didn’t dislike this; there are certain rules, she told me, parts of her faith that are commanded, such as the Salah, or five daily prayers, and fasting during Ramadan. But there were also many moments that turned the process of “being a better Muslim” from a smooth arc into a bobbing wave, with highs and lows scattered through life in equal measure. “Life is so full of tests and challenges that are unique to each person and which each person has to respond to in their own way,” she said. “And that journey doesn’t ever end until the End, until you’re in front of God on the Day of Judgment.”

Through her young adulthood, Fatima’s bright outward appearance contrasted with a darker internal struggle, pinned by a years-long labor with unrequited love. "It makes me emotional just thinking about it, because I put myself through so much pain, and completely lost my sense of self and confidence in my rejected feelings," she said. "I wanted so deeply for this person to like me back, and when they didn't, I took it so personally. I thought I was so damaged; so ugly; my self esteem was so low. I thought, What defect do I have?"

Those emotions lingered until Fatima’s final year of college when she rediscovered a more personal form of faith. "I went to Indonesia for a few weeks to do research for my degree," she said, "and while I was there, I realized that I didn't want to be with anyone else. I just needed to be with God, and God alone. Because no one could give me the peace and the love I needed other than God; studying the Prophet Muhammad, Peace be upon him, and studying his character and his story."

She couldn’t erase her prior years of pain, but she began to view them with gratitude. "It was a very painful experience, and I don't want to glorify hardships or say that they are necessary prerequisites before getting close to God," she said. "But this is my story, and this is what God knew that I needed. Out of that darkness, who was there for me? It was God.”

She went on. “I grew up so oriented around the idea of justice, and the black and white. And that’s something that I’m trying to fine tune a bit, to be more merciful, especially to myself. Because being so focused on that meant I wasn’t focused on learning more about who God is, how He is merciful and loving. And that the goal is not to be perfect, but to be better, which comes with its own ups and downs and isn’t a straight line up.”

“My coming to God, my having this big realization of Him and waking up; it was so life changing. I grew so much in my faith, grew so much as a person. I turned to elders in the community who helped solidify what it meant to be a good Muslim, a person who walks with utter conviction in Allah, trust and belief in wanting to spread that."

Fatima once said to me that Ibrahim's entire personality was Islam, a point she said with a mix of jest and admiration. Almost any conversation we had, no matter the location or context—on a bus, in the forest, over breakfast, cooking dinner—returned to his faith.

"My personal story is my relationship with God," Ibrahim told me, "and I'd love for it to remind people about Him; how He gave them everything, how the beauty they see in life is from Him. How everyone is a part of God's story, however willing they are to be a part of it. When I read the Quran, I see what my life means, how and why everything happens. I see that I need to keep turning to Him, no matter the shortcomings."

When he spoke of his story, Ibrahim drew an analogy to a story from the Quran’s second Surah, Al-Baqarah, of a conversation between Abraham and God:

"And when Abraham said, ‘My Lord! Show me how You revive the dead,’ He said, ‘Do you not believe?’ He said, ‘Yes indeed, but in order that my heart may be at rest.’ He said, ‘Take four birds and commit them to yourself. Then [after sacrificing them] put on each hill a portion of them; then call them - they will come [flying] to you in haste. And know that Allah is Exalted in Might and Wise.’”

"I think it's a good framework for thinking about the ups and downs of life,” Ibrahim said. “That we're like the bird, where God has taught all of us how to come to Him. And when this life destroys us, that's when the call is even greater, when there's an even more direct response to God's call.” Life, he said, always flowed with trials and tribulations alongside constant blessing, two sides of the same coin; distinct, yet inseparable.

He equated his own journey to find peace in life as that of everyone’s. “I had the same questions we all have. What are we doing here? What’s the point of life? Why do I have blessings others don’t have, and why do others have blessings I don’t?” He spoke of feeling a drowned suffering he didn’t even realize, “like the frog placed in water that’s steadily brought to a boil, and something all of us need to escape from. I believed in God and the eternal Hereafter, but I lacked the certainty or proper understanding of faith.”

Even in his childhood, Ibrahim drew towards deeper conversation and friendships. He didn’t grow up with strict religious schooling, which likely gave him a comfort in being close friends with non-Muslims and hearing different views. He attended a specialized school for science in high school, and often fielded his non-religious friends’ questions. “My science friends would often ask me questions about how I could believe in science and also my faith,” Ibrahim said. “And those questions really break everything apart, right?" he said.

His own convictions, he explained, came from his personal experiences with faith, and his own relationship with God. Those were often hard to share with others. But he also felt that there were wonders everyone could see as he did, parts of the world that, he said, “all point to a beautiful Designer.” “God simply left plenty of things unanswered so man could discover himself and appreciate His creation,” he said.

His faith grew as a child grows taller, imperceptible day-by-day, but striking and irreversible over time. “There was a Ramadan in college when I was really focused on this question of Islam and science, and fitting all these ideas of evolution or science,” he said. “I heard an imam speak about how God used the word likened to ‘promote’ to establish a vicegerent on the Earth, as if to evolve and choose something already there, to make the point about evolution not conflicting with Islam or creationism.”

He went on. “It was a pivotal moment in which I could never reneg on my faith again, but rather would steadily adjust my life to fit that of what God prescribes for Islam in the Quran. And bit by bit, I kept changing and learning, and eventually you change so much that you just don’t look back.”

Today, when Ibrahim speaks about faith, he speaks with a conviction that at once has the gravity of a soliloquy and the delight of a child. He emphasized one teacher in particular, Fode Drame, an Imam originally from West Africa most known for his original Quranic exegesis. “There are some people who speak, and you can hear such certainty and conviction, where you can tell they’ve worshiped to the point of finding certitude in some way,” Ibrahim said. “And God put a man like this in my life, someone who’s able to convey such deep meaning in so few words.”

Fatima and Ibrahim's first conversation lasted six hours; they said 'I love you' to each other a week later, and by then, both knew they wanted to spend their lives together. Fatima had talked before about how their meeting felt like a divine reunion; I asked Ibrahim how he felt in return, and how he knew that their relationship would be special. "It was a lot of little things we talked about,” he replied. How she dealt with struggles, the way she talked about controlling her emotions. Trying to be good, to be authentic, to please God."

He went on. “We immediately connected through God, more than anyone else I had ever encountered before, even other Muslims. I had learned to look for religion and character in a potential spouse, character defined by a relationship with God, self and other human beings. And that’s what I found in Fatima. She treated me, my family, and society with such love, grace, and generosity. I could not comprehend the sakina”—peaceful tranquility—“the energy, and all-encompassing mercy that emanated from her soul. And I fell in love.”

Like Fatima, he had a clear vision for whom his partner would be. “Everything is about God, and how beautiful and full He makes everything in life. And my mind was constantly thinking about how I had a purpose of serving God that I wanted to fulfill, and that I wanted to be with someone who also wanted to do that.”

They introduced their families to one another a week after they met. “We were already very serious, and we felt that it was important to include our families and get their blessings before we even really began to pursue a real relationship,” Ibrahim said. They gathered in Fatima’s aunt’s home in New Jersey, where her family had prepared a feast. The power had gone out all day, and only turned back on right before Ibrahim’s family arrived. (“I was pretty calm about it,” Fatima told me, “because inside, I thought, ‘How would Ibrahim be reacting right now? Probably with Alhamdulilah,’” a phrase that translates to “All praise, and all thanks, belongs to God,” and which Fatima and Ibrahim use in situations from gratitude to hope to sorrow. Its purpose is less to just thank God, and more to remind about Him, no matter the situation.)

No one would have been surprised if Ibarhim proposed to Fatima that same day. “These meetings are very significant,” Ibrahim said, “and while they weren’t necessarily expecting it, our families also wouldn’t have found it odd if I did propose. Both of us are seen as pretty serious people in our own respective families, and so for us to want to arrange a meeting between our families meant a lot to them, and showed them just how serious we were about one another.”

I asked Ibrahim if he did indeed think about proposing at that first meeting. “I did, and I really wanted to,” he said with a smile. “Pretty much every time we met over the next several months, I told her ‘I wish we got married yesterday.’ But I also knew that Fatima was a very practical person, and both our families were telling us to spend some time getting to know each other first.” His heart moved just a bit faster than Fatima’s, who told me, “after a few weeks of knowing each other, I was like, 85% sure I was going to marry him, while I think he was, like, 99% sure.” She laughed and gave Ibrahim a teasing look.

Ibrahim sprouted a broad smile in response. “In Islam, people who have really beautiful character are said to have understood the religion better,” he said. “And when our friend introduced us, the first thing I noticed was her smile, and I thought how being able to smile in such a beautiful way told me so much about her character, and thus so much about her faith. And I just fell in love with that, because I felt like that’s the essence of being a believer and doing it for God, and not to satisfy an ego.”

Fatima, likewise, saw how consistent Ibrahim was in his faith. “The first time we met in person was at a park in New York,” Fatima said. “And as soon as we sat down, these two women came up to us and started talking to us about religion. And I saw how Ibrahim was just being himself, how he talks and shares about Islam. And I witnessed that, and felt peace about who he really was, and that he was real.”

Fatima and Ibrahim, limited in how they could show physical affection to one another, found different ways instead. “Because of our religion, we couldn’t express our love through things like holding hands or hugging,” Fatima told me. “And so we would just send this bear emoji in WhatsApp of a boy and girl bear. And whenever I really wanted to hug him, I’d send this emoji, basically to say that I wanted to bear hug him.”

They also wrote to one another. “We couldn’t have physical affection, and so we would just share these words that would touch each others’ soul,” Fatima said. “And we found that words, through letters, texts, handwritten notes, are so powerful just by themselves.”

Ramadan, the Islamic holy month, falls each year on the ninth month of the lunar calendar. It is most known as a season of fasting, prayer, and community. It is also the culmination of months of reflection. "If you just go into Ramadan without preparing for it, you're not going to get as much out of it," Ibrahim said, "so you try to plan a little ahead of time."

He analogized the months before and during Ramadan to planting, irrigating, and harvesting seeds. "Two months before, you're working on what different habits or traits you want to develop. That's planting. The next month is all about getting closer to God; that's irrigating. And then Ramadan is when you can really harvest all these things you've been working on.”

As Fatima and Ibrahim prepared for Ramadan, which in 2021 fell between April 13th and May 12th, they thought about their relationship. They were engaged in late 2020, and hadn’t planned to be married until summer of 2021. Entering Ramadan without being married (and thus not being allowed to spend time with one another, both in private and with family) contradicted the feelings they already had towards one another. “It was odd, because we communicated as if we were soulmates reunited, with a deep level of familiarity and peace,” Ibrahim told me. “But we still weren’t married under Islamic law, and that meant there were still so many things we couldn’t do or share in. There was this feeling of incompleteness.”

They decided, then, to move up their Nikkah (the Islamic wedding ceremony usually performed by an Imam in a masjid) to March, a month before the start of Ramadan. Fatima guided the planning (Ibrahim couldn’t look at screens because of a recent concussion) and in her stress turned to prayer to help make decisions. "We were asking God to just close some doors, and open up good ones to go through," Fatima told me, "and as that happened, we became more confident with our decisions and content and happy with them." They found a large masjid in New Jersey with ample space for the ceremony and dinner, an Imam to perform the ceremony, and a local Pakistani restaurant to provide catering.

The morning of the Nikkah was cloudy and cold; a light sprinkle of rain misted the air as Ibrahim and his family arrived at the masjid. He wore a golden sherwani, and did his best to greet guests and avoid getting a migraine from the lingering effects of his concussion. An elder at the masjid took people's temperatures as they entered the prayer hall, reminding people to take off their shoes, keep social distance, and tug up their masks. One of Fatima’s friends set a laptop on a table nearby and started a Zoom call for Fatima and Ibrahim’s friends and family to watch from around the world.

Shortly before the ceremony was scheduled to begin at 3pm, Fatima was in a minivan with her family on her way to the masjid, having a panic attack for worry of being late. She called Ibrahim, frantic and anxious; and he talked to her, his voice steady and present, reassuring Fatima and calming her as she drove closer and closer until she arrived, and entered the masjid with her family.

Fatima and Ibrahim entered the prayer hall and sat down on opposite sides of a flower partition blocking their view of one another until later in the ceremony. The ceremony began with Fatima’s two younger brothers and niece recited from Surahs Rahman, Baqarah, and Bayyinah.

The imam then gave a sermon about marriage and its role in Islam. "So glory be to God, when you enter upon the evening, and when you rise in the morning. For God is the praise in the heavens and on earth, when the sun declines, and when you reach noon. God brings forth the living from the dead, and brings forth the dead from the living. And God reminds the earth after its death, so too shall you be brought forth."

"We're blessed today to gather together to celebrate what we pray will be the most blessed marriage of Fatima and Ibrahim. Today your two souls will be joined together, to share your lives, the happiness, the sadness, and yes sometimes the frustrations, but most importantly the joy. There's nothing like the feeling of loving and being loved by another."

"In the Quran, Allah highlights that one of the signs of Allah is this love that exists between spouses. It's a truly wondrous and remarkable thing. The famous Muslim scholar and poet, Jami, wrote in a beautiful poem, 'Try even 100 different things in this world; it is love alone that will free you from yourself.'"

He asked Fatima and Ibrahim's fathers for their acceptance of the marriage. "Do you accept this marriage," he asked each, "according to the Quran and the Sunnah of the beloved Prophet (Peace be upon him)?” Each nodded and spoke their acceptance. Then, Fatima and Ibrahim recited their vows. Fatima began:

“Today morning after praying, I raised my hands to make dua”—prayer—“and upon seeing my henna, burst into tears. There, right in front of me, my bridal henna was proof that Allah had answered my duas, after years of raising them and asking for His love. He gave me you.”

“Your name is hidden somewhere on my palm, and it'll remain in my duas forever. There is nothing I can call this next chapter of my life, other than your name, Ibrahim. After meeting you, I had the courage to do one of the hardest things a person could do: to remove the barriers, insecurities, and fears within, and allow myself to accept this beautiful and challenging journey to come, with Allah's guidance, because you are so worth it.”

“You are rizq”—sustenance—“straight from Allah, a blessing upon a blessing, a blessing within a blessing. You are proof that Allah exists. You yourself are a sign. And the biggest sign in my life that Allah listens to the night prayer, He listens to the prayer made when it rains, and when you're in sujood”—prostration. “You are the biggest sign in my life of Allah's mercy. And a reminder to always be grateful. A reminder to be kind. A reminder to remember.”

“To remember who my Lord is, who gave me a blessing so boundless, that I can see jannah”—heaven—“when I look at you. I can see the Prophet, Peace be upon him, within you. Your gentleness is so tangible that when you speak, even when you say hello, I can feel the winds of glad tidings to come, and when you smile, it's the arrival of the gift. You have arrived and you are always arriving, because we are always evolving and becoming better.”

“You know, Allah promises us that if we go through hardship and seek His help after losing something, He will replace it with something better. Every time it felt like I was losing something in life, in reality I was gaining closeness to Allah, and so what more could I have wanted? But when He tells you that He will replace it with something better and you will be content with it, you have to believe that ‘better’ is incomprehensible. It's not something you can mathematically decide that it's better. Because once you have a good opinion of God, then ‘better’ becomes infinity.”

“Allah replaced all that I lost in life with you, infinity. You are better than anything before, right now, and to come, in shaa Allah”—God willing. “I don't think anyone will realize the full capacity of what I'm saying because that knowledge is with Allah. But I pray everyone believes in the better to come, and that Allah gives to us all, the best.”

“May Allah bless you, Ibrahim, for your friendship. May He allow me to protect you, cover you, strengthen you. May He instill between us respect and honor, guardianship, and focus on our joint mission to both learn and share with others who Allah is, so that we can achieve what we are all looking for, peace. May Allah increase the baraqah”—blessing—“of everyone here. May He give to us the answers we are looking for, and help us realize that the true Answer is Allah's pleasure, as through that all good comes from. Ibrahim, you are every good at once, and forever. May Allah accept our marriage and sacrifices and forgive us all. May He increase the love between us all. Ameen.”

She lowered the microphone, and handed it through the flower partition to Ibrahim. He sniffed as he took it, and chuckled, blinking away tears. "I really should have gone first.”

"Alhamdulillah, I thank Allah for His honor and responsibility. I thank His messenger for his example. My family, my friends, my teachers for believing in me. And last but not least, you, Fatima, and your family, and friends, for welcoming me into your loving family.”

“I vow to give myself to you with Allah as my witness, under the guidance of the Holy Quran, in the way of our beloved messenger and Prophet. I vow to seek the blessing and forgiveness of Allah, and to work towards becoming a strong partner, who will remind us of our purpose and trust with Allah. I vow to commit myself to you in protection and support with my mind, body, heart, and soul, as Allah would. I vow to strive for peace and ultimate goodness in this life and the hereafter with you by my side. I vow to hear you, to be gentle and compassionate with you, and to learn about you, and to know you as we grow to become beautiful garments for one another."

He smiled, and sniffed, closed his eyes as he went off script. "I... I..." he let out a short breath, half laugh, half sob. "I couldn't have said it better than how Fatima said it, that she is the proof of Allah's might, His love, His immense mercy. That we really have no idea how quickly and how decisively Allah can intercede and change anything in our lives. And I remember I was making dua one day, just struggling in myself, and it was the next day that I started to talk to Fatima. And I couldn't believe it.”

“The next few months I just kept seeing her name in the Quran, and all I could do was think of how serious everything was, that this was a responsibility and trust directly from Allah. And, in shaa Allah, as I keep reading and living, I'll never forget that. Thank you so much for welcoming me into your life. You say so many beautiful things about me, but all I can keep doing is think about how selfless you are, and how much I'm able to learn from you. And I'm just in awe, and I just wish to keep learning and to keep being better for you. And I hope that I can also be as transformative for you as you were for me."

When Fatima thinks about her life with Ibrahim, a film plays through her mind. “It’s as if I’m watching a movie,” she says. “I’m 100 years old, looking back on a lifetime I’ve already spent with him.” She describes scenes of their children: riding tricycles, having birthdays, graduating from college, getting married; her and Ibrahim sitting together in their old age. “It hasn’t even happened yet, but I can already picture it; the future as a memory, and how quickly it will go by.” She thinks of her younger brothers, growing so fast, knowing the next moment of time passes just as quickly as the last.

She takes comfort in her faith that heaven will supply these memories into infinity. “We don't necessarily have to see everything in this world for us to experience the fullness of the world,” Fatima said. “There are things that we're going to leave for the afterlife and jannah, heaven, certain sights or foods or experiences that we may not have the time or money to spend in this life.”

She went on. “Our goal is really to work hard and be loving to our family and community. Jannah; that’s when it’s fully peace. You get everything you want, and everything is possible there. And so this life is, really, a chance to give back. To be a person of service; to be a good person.”

Ibrahim spoke of his gratitude for Fatima’s support. "She's been so encouraging to me," he said, referencing an eventual goal he has to memorize the entire Quran. "Her immediate reaction to my ideas and goals is always support, and I think that speaks volumes. It’s so empowering, and it reminds me of when Muhammad the Prophet, Peace be upon him, got his first revelation from the angel Gabriel.”

In the story, Muhammad is meditating in a cave when Gabriel suddenly appears. The angel grabs Muhammad three times, each time commanding him to recite. Each time, Muhammad replies that he cannot recite, or does not know what to recite. After the third time, Gabriel says, as recorded in Surah Al-’Ayaq, “Recite in the name of your Lord, Who created man from a clot of congealed blood. Recite: and your Lord is Most Generous Who taught by the pen, taught man what he did not know.”

When the angel disappears, Muhammad is so scared that he runs back home to his wife, and hides under the covers. When he tells her what happened, she replies, simply, “I believe you.”

Ibrahim looked towards Fatima. "She’s like that with me. It was life changing. When I share my ideas or dreams, she doesn’t respond thinking they’re fantastical or childish or anything like that. She just says, I’m here for you. And that means everything to me.”

*Ibrahim and Fatima eating their wedding cake*

One evening, Ibrahim encouraged me to read the fourth chapter of Fode Drame’s book Rejuvenation of the Soul, titled “Expansion and Love” and lasting only four pages. It begins with a definition of love:

Love is the communion between the cores of two beings… True love is the love of faith. It is called the enlightened love. It is distinct from the sensual love which is based on emotion and instinct. Sensual love does not proceed from the heart proper, even though we think it does. Rather, it emanates from our senses. It is lustful and voluptuous. It is cumbersome, physical, and transient. After all, its survival depends on physical contiguity. It dies with distance.
One the other hand, the enlightened love, the love of core to core, of heart to heart does not depend on physical proximity to thrive and prosper. For it transcends space and time, as anything that proceeds from the heart proper lies beyond the scope of time and space, and beyond all calculation. It is without measure or count.

Ibrahim described a lesson he’d learned from another teacher about marriage and faith: visualize a triangle, his teacher had said, with God at the top and the couple at each corner of the base. The closer you draw to God, the closer you draw to your partner. “Before we met one another, we were both broken-hearted,” Ibrahim said. “And we looked to God for help, to fix us up. And what I see now is that God put us together to take care of our hearts, to provide peace for one another in each of our journeys towards Him.”

Each moment of marriage, he and Fatima said, was a moment of blessing, each word, gift, feeling of love for one another a part of their relationship that was itself a sign of God. Every bit of love and commitment and forgiveness and mercy was a symbol that their marriage, under God, transcends all else. And to know that, they said, is without measure or count.

A young Muslim couple’s faith steers their lives in New York City and their love for one another.

A pair of queer, Christian women connect over their love for making music, and create harmony at the intersection of their faiths and identities.

He was a Republican. She was a Democrat. They worked in politics. Could it be any less obvious?