It was a fine Sunday morning at eight a.m. Anaya put on small earrings and some pale pink lipstick to go with her black kameez and trousers after she took her shower.

Sunday mornings we're known to be lazy, but Anaya believed in the opposite. She liked to spend the last day of the weekend a little differently.

Every Sunday, Anaya would wake up earlier than Jameela and surprise her with a meal already made.

All week long Jameela would make her breakfast- that she would grab and eat in her car. So to make up for it, Anaya loved to share a delightful breakfast with her Amee, on Sundays.

For today's breakfast, she began by kneading the dough for the paratha's and mixed some cooked and mashed potatoes with spices for the filling.

Jameela had told her that her morning wasn't complete without a good chai and paratha.

In a separate pot, she stirred the chai on low heat and added two cloves of cardamom to it.

After delicately filling the dough she put it on the pan to cook. As soon as it was golden brown she flipped it and waited again. She served it cutely on a white plate and put some parsley in the middle to make it look "fancy".

As Anaya was setting the table, just on time- she heard a door open and close.

Jameela stuck her head through the kitchen entrance and smiled at Anaya.

"Take a seat, Amee. I am almost done." Anaya laughed.

"You should be sleeping in on Sunday's, you don't have to do this." She said.

"I don't. But I love you so I have to," Anaya said taking out the tea in two cups.

She brought the teas to the table and they both sat down from across each other and had their breakfast.

Jameela took a sip from the tea and sighed happily.

"You make chai, just like your mother." She said, holding Anaya's chin lovingly.

Anaya smiled and looked down shying.

Both of them spent the morning laughing and having an enjoyable time conversing. It was nice to take time out of their days to just take a minute and chat freely.

An hour later, after they had finished eating, they cleaned up together, putting the dishes in the dishwasher and throwing the trash away.

As Anaya wiped the counter and stove, she couldn't help but think how nice it would be to share breakfast with her father.

"I am going to go shower, and then read some Quran," Jameela said, breaking her train of thought.

"I know your Sunday routines by now," Anaya chuckled.

As Jameela left the kitchen, Anaya walked out to the backyard to get some air.

The sun was bright and the grass was wet from the drizzle Fajr had brought. She relished the simple view of nature and again- helplessly began to think of her family.

She wondered what her dad had been up to since the last time she saw him on Monday. He had been in such a rush, running down the stairs and leaving without a word.

She had whispered a Salam, but she didn't think he heard it.

After the age of 17, Anaya had quit trying to bond with her dad. It was no use, and the result was the same every time- He would reply to her shortly and tell her he had to be somewhere, and then Anaya would cry a little and go back to Jameela for comfort.

Anaya went back inside and closed the glass doors as she began to feel the heat hit her, but then an idea came to her.

She went up the stairs and walked to the door on the far left. Grabbing the handle quietly, she felt that it was locked, yet when she put her ear on the door- there was no noise.

So she decided to take the bobby pin from her hair, and open the door as quickly and discreetly as she could.

The door popped open and she peeked inside to see if her father was there or not- and to her expectation, he wasn't.

Her mind urged her to stop, but her gut feeling that something was wrong was too strong to ignore. So she opened the door and went inside fully.

She saw the room rumpled, clothes on the floor, and used tissues here and there. The room smelled of a reek that was foreign to her, so she took a closer look around to find the source.

Her eyes landed on his nightstand and looked at one of the small empty glass bottles that laid on it. Hesitatingly, she took it in her hand and turned it around to read it.

"Distilled Vodka," She studied the label out loud.

She gasped audibly and instantly put down the bottle as if it was a sin to even touch it. Her heartbeat was loud, as she mumbled 'no' continuously- in absolute denial of what she had seen.

She looked around more and noticed some white flakes on the glass of the table.

She touched them and she realized it was a kind of powder. She didn't apprehend what it could be and backed away, still astounded by the fact her father might've been drinking.

She turned around to leave and practically sprinted out the door after locking the room- leaving for hers. As soon she came in, she sat on her bed, as a tear fell out of her eye.

She quivered with disgust and nervousness.

Why would he be drinking?

He had to be a practicing

Anaya had asked her mother how they met and what her father did for work and she had told her he was a businessman and that they met at a sales meeting. Besides that, Anaya never found out more, neither did she ask.

Anaya was apprehensive, her mind ran so frantically that she felt a little dizzy. She walked back and forth for a while, in a wild panic. Not knowing what to do with what she had found out.

So she did what she knew best.

She took the long scarf that hung on her door and wore it. Laying out a prayer mat, she offered two nafl and broke down into sobs amid Surah Fatiha.

Anaya was fearful of what her father had gotten himself into, she was scared that he was becoming a sinner, and god forbid if something was to happen to him he would die one. She had begun to think so far ahead, there was no limit to her cynical thoughts.

She had no clue what went on in her father's mind or life, for all she knew that could've been someone else's alcohol. But the thing was she would never know because her father refused to speak with her.

She cried in dua and begged Allah to protect her dad from straying down the wrong path.

Around twenty minutes later, she calmed herself down, convincing herself that she could be jumping to conclusions. She wiped her face and sipped water.

"Everything will be fine, have tawakkul Anaya," She told herself.

Anaya decided to put this situation to rest, as she realized she was overthinking about something she had no control over.

She took deep breaths over and over, becoming stressed as she tried to comprehend the major turn her simplistic morning had taken.

She took a seat, and laid back. She put on her headphones and listened to the Quran, to silence her mind that kept thinking of the constant negative circumstances her dad could be in.

She closed her eyes and listened quietly. Until her pessimistic feelings were no more.

Until her anxiety died down from hearing her Lord's reassurances.

Until her heartbeat was steady listening to the beautiful words of Allah.

Until her soul felt ever so gratified.