Maria sat cross-legged on her bed, her dimly lit room scattered with open books. The scent of old pages filled the air as she flipped through Sahih Bukhari, her eyes scanning a chapter about women's rights in Islam. The more she read, the more astonished she became. She had never known Islam spoke so comprehensively about women—as daughters, as mothers, as wives, and even in matters of wealth and inheritance.
A small lamp on the desk cast a warm glow, creating a contrast between the cold night outside and the warmth she felt inside. Her fingers brushed over the embossed logo on the back cover of the book—Syedna Abu Bakar Siddiqui Academy. It was the same place Ayesha had mentioned before, the place where Agnes had secretly studied before her death.
Maria couldn't hold back anymore. She needed to talk to Ayesha. Picking up her phone, she scrolled through her contacts and tapped on Ayesha's name. The WhatsApp call rang a few times before Ayesha answered, her voice groggy.
Ayesha: "Maria? It's late. Is everything okay?"
Maria hesitated for a moment, then spoke.
Maria: "I know, I'm sorry. But Ayesha… I just read something that I can't stop thinking about. I had to talk to you."
Ayesha sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes.
Ayesha: "Alright, tell me. What's on your mind?"
Maria held the book tightly, as if drawing strength from it.
Maria: "I finally found those books you told me about—the ones Agnes had. And I started reading Sahih Bukhari. Ayesha, I had no idea that Islam gave women such rights. I mean… I was always told the opposite."
Ayesha's lips curled into a knowing smile.
Ayesha: "That's because people often speak without knowledge, Maria. They believe what they want to believe."
Maria ran a hand through her hair, feeling overwhelmed.
Maria: "But why? Why was I never told about this? Do you know how much I suffered? How much I was used and discarded like I had no value? And now I read this… and it says I have dignity. That I have rights over my own body, my own wealth, my own decisions. Why didn't anyone tell me before?"
Ayesha sighed deeply.
Ayesha: "Maria, the world doesn't want women to know their worth. That's why oppression exists—not because of religion, but because of people who twist the truth."
Maria leaned back against her pillow, staring at the ceiling.
Maria: "I used to believe that freedom meant wearing what I wanted, doing what I wanted. But now… now I see that freedom isn't just about that. It's about respect, about being valued. Islam gives women that."
Ayesha nodded.
Ayesha: "Exactly. In Islam, a woman is honored in every stage of her life. As a daughter, she's a source of blessings. As a wife, she's a partner, not a servant. As a mother, she's revered. And even in matters of wealth, she has a rightful share, something many cultures still deny women today."
Maria flipped back to the section she had read earlier.
Maria: "This part here, about inheritance… I was shocked. A woman has a fixed share of wealth, and no one can take it away from her. In my past, men controlled everything—my life, my choices, my body. But this book says otherwise. It says I matter."
Ayesha's voice softened.
Ayesha: "You do matter, Maria. Islam saw your worth long before the world did."
Maria closed the book and pressed it against her chest, her heart pounding.
Maria: "I want to learn more, Ayesha. Not just read—I want to understand. Will you help me?"
Ayesha smiled.
Ayesha: "Of course, Maria. We'll learn together. And trust me, this is just the beginning."
As the call ended, Maria stared at the book in her hands. A new path had opened before her, one she had never considered before. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she was walking toward something real—towards understanding, towards peace.