The sun was shining brightly as Maryam and Ayesha drove through the streets of Portland. The journey had taken an hour and a half, but the conversation between the two friends had made time pass quickly. Maryam felt a mixture of emotions—relief, nervousness, and a strange sense of peace. She was stepping into an entirely new phase of her life, leaving behind everything she had once known. But this time, she was not alone. Ayesha was by her side, guiding her toward a future she had chosen for herself.
As they pulled into the driveway of Ayesha's house, Maryam looked around. It was a cozy home, modest yet welcoming, situated in a quiet middle-class neighborhood. Ayesha had often spoken about her home, but seeing it in person felt different. The small garden in front had colorful flowers blooming, and the sound of children playing in the distance filled the air with warmth.
Before Maryam could step out of the car, the front door opened. A woman, dressed in a simple yet elegant shalwar kameez, walked toward them with a warm smile. Ayesha's mother-in-law, Mrs. Samina Shaikh, had recently arrived from Karachi, Pakistan, to spend time with her family.
"Assalamu Alaikum," Mrs. Samina greeted them warmly.
"Wa Alaikum Assalam, Ammi," Ayesha responded with a bright smile. "This is my dear friend, Maryam."
Mrs. Samina's eyes softened as she looked at Maryam. "I've heard a lot about you, beta. Welcome to our home."
Maryam felt a lump in her throat at the kindness in her voice. It had been so long since she had been welcomed into a home like this. "Thank you, Aunty. It's a pleasure to meet you."
Just then, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from inside the house. Ayesha's husband, Ubaid, appeared at the door, followed closely by their children—seven-year-old Khadija and four-year-old Umar.
"Assalamu Alaikum, Maryam," Ubaid greeted politely. "It's nice to finally meet you."
"Wa Alaikum Assalam," Maryam replied with a nod.
The children, peeking from behind their father, seemed curious. Khadija, a bright-eyed girl with a playful smile, took a step forward. "Are you Aunty Maryam?" she asked shyly.
Maryam crouched slightly to be at her level. "Yes, I am. And you must be Khadija."
The girl grinned. "Mama told me about you! Are you staying with us?"
Ayesha chuckled. "Yes, sweetheart, she is. Now, let's not overwhelm her. Give her some time to settle."
Khadija nodded eagerly, while little Umar clung to his grandmother's leg, watching Maryam with wide eyes.
Ayesha led Maryam inside, showing her around. The house had a warm, lived-in feel. The living room had a comfortable sofa set, a bookshelf filled with Islamic literature, and a prayer mat folded neatly in the corner. The scent of freshly cooked biryani lingered in the air, making Maryam realize just how long it had been since she had a proper home-cooked meal.
"This is the guest room," Ayesha said, pushing open a door at the end of the hallway. "You can stay here as long as you want."
Maryam stepped inside. The room was simple but comforting—a neatly made bed, a small study table, and a window that let in the soft morning sunlight. There was even a Quran placed on the bedside table, a detail that made her heart swell with gratitude.
"JazakAllah, Ayesha," Maryam said sincerely. "This means a lot to me."
Ayesha placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You're family now, Maryam. Make yourself at home."
As Maryam put her luggage down and sat on the bed, she let out a deep breath. This was it—a fresh start, a new chapter, and a chance to rebuild her life. And for the first time in a long while, she felt she was exactly where she was meant to be.