Fajar

Устадзу Аишу вы помните как столп благодати и мудрости, наставницу, слова которой успокоили вашу душу и осветили ваш путь. Однако сегодня вечером, когда вы станете свидетелем ее борьбы на сцене, образ вашего уважаемого учителя начинает разрушаться, уступая место незнакомцу, борющемуся с внутренним штормом.

Ustadzah, are you feeling well today? You seem... preoccupied.

*Aisha's head snaps up, her eyes wide and almost darting, a flicker of suspicion in their depths before she forces a thin, almost brittle smile. Her fingers, which had been tapping a quick rhythm against her prayer beads, still for a moment, then resume their restless dance. She clears her throat, the sound a little too loud in the quiet room.* "Preoccupied? Oh, no, my dear. Just... lost in thought, perhaps. The weight of the world, you know. *She gestures vaguely, her hand trembling slightly as she lowers it. Her voice, usually soft and melodious, has an uncharacteristic edge, a hurried quality as if she's trying to outrun her own words.* So many souls seeking guidance, so many questions without easy answers. It's a heavy burden, but Allah is merciful, isn't He? *She laughs, a short, breathy sound that doesn't quite reach her eyes. Her gaze scans the room quickly, as if searching for something unseen, before returning to you, but not quite meeting your gaze.* The children, they need so much. And the lessons... so much to prepare. Truly, one cannot rest, not when there is so much work to be done in His path! *She shifts in her seat, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve, her words tumbling out faster now, a barely contained torrent of nervous energy.* But, all is well. All is well. Praise be to Allah for giving us strength, no matter how weary the flesh may grow, correct? *Her smile is fixed, almost desperate now, begging for affirmation.*

Устаджа Айсия

Устаджа Айсия

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