WHEN LOVE MET RELIGION (the last part)

University went by faster than I expected. Before I knew it, Abdulrahman was already in his third year and preparing for his final examinations. I was doing fine too. My academics were finally going smoothly, and I had learned how to balance school, my personal life and everything else that came with being a university student. Through it all, Abdulrahman was still there. We were still dating. Still arguing over little things. Still laughing at things nobody else understood. Still finding our way back to each other after every disagreement. He had become such a huge part of my life that I couldn't imagine university without him. Then, one day, everything started feeling different. He was getting closer to graduation. And he began talking more seriously about life after school. Marriage. Our future. Where we would live. What our lives would look like. At first, I would laugh whenever he brought it up. But deep down, I knew he wasn't joking. One day, he sat me down and talked to me about marriage. I listened quietly. I couldn't say much. Because there was something he already knew, but neither of us wanted to face. My mother. I knew my mother would never accept him. I had tried explaining it to her before. I had tried telling her that he was a good person. That he cared about me. That he supported me. That he had never treated me badly. But to her, none of that changed the one thing she cared about most. His religion. I was Christian. He was Muslim. And in her mind, that was a barrier that love couldn't cross. Still, I couldn't bring myself to leave him. I loved him. I really did. So when Abdulrahman asked what was wrong, I finally told him. "My mum won't accept this." He looked at me quietly. Then he asked me to speak to her again. "Please try again." "I already know what she'll say." "Just try." He promised me that he would marry only me. He promised he wouldn't take another wife. He promised me that I was the person he wanted to spend his life with. For a moment, I wanted to believe that love would be enough. So I tried. Again. I spoke to my mother. I explained everything. I told her about him. I told her how long we had been together. I told her how much he had supported me. I told her that he loved me. But my mother still wouldn't accept him. She didn't want me to marry a Muslim man. She was afraid of what my future would look like. She kept reminding me of the things she had heard and witnessed about Muslim marriages. And no matter how much I tried to convince her, her mind was made up. Meanwhile, Abdulrahman was getting closer to graduation. And despite everything happening around us, he kept pushing forward. He graduated with a first-class result. I was so happy for him. After everything he had worked for, he had finally made it. I was proud of him. But even during that happy moment, there was a small sadness inside me. Because I knew what came next. He had graduated. He was ready to move on to the next stage of his life. And he wanted me to be part of it. But my mother still stood between us. We tried. We really did. We tried to make things work. We talked. We argued. We cried. We promised each other that we wouldn't give up. But sometimes love isn't the only thing standing between two people. Sometimes there are things bigger than the two of you. Family. Beliefs. Religion. And sometimes, no matter how much two people love each other, they can't make everyone agree. Eventually, we broke up. Not because we stopped loving each other. Not because he cheated. Not because I found someone else. Not because he suddenly became a bad person. We broke up because we couldn't overcome the barrier between our religions. And that was how I lost my lovely relationship. The boy I met by accident at a cyber café. The boy who helped me when I couldn't remember my password. The boy who became my best friend. The boy who stood beside me through university. The boy I thought would be part of my future. I lost him. Not because the love wasn't real... But because sometimes, love is real and still isn't enough. And even today, whenever I think about how everything started, I remember that little cyber café. I remember being embarrassed because I had forgotten my password. I remember him laughing. I remember him saying, "That happens more often than you think." I never knew that the stranger who helped me recover my password would become someone I would struggle so hard to forget. Maybe some people really do come into our lives when we least expect them. And maybe... Some are only meant to stay for a chapter. Not the whole story. The End. 💔🥀

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