There’s this moment that replays in my head more than I like to admit….
It wasn’t tragic. It wasn’t dramatic.
I was sitting in my room, just after midnight. My phone screen was still glowing, and the Qur’an app I had opened earlier was still there… untouched. I had told myself I’d read “after this one scroll.” But that scroll turned into an hour. Maybe two. I don’t even remember what I watched.
All I know is the Qur’an never got read that night.
And what hurts is… this isn’t a one-time story.
It’s been the pattern.
A slow habit of trading my Akhirah for dunya, one quiet decision at a time
You see, no one wakes up and says,
“Today, I’m going to drift from Allah.”But it happens. Quietly.
Softly.
Without thunder. Without noise.
I didn’t trade my salah for some sinful plan
I traded it for a packed schedule.
For the belief that “Allah knows I’m trying.”
And He does. But Shayṭān heard it too — and made it feel safe to delay.
I didn’t abandon the Qur’an because I didn’t love it.
I just stopped showing up for it.
Because the phone was easier. The scroll was faster. The silence was too loud.
And every day that passed, I told myself:
“Tomorrow, I’ll realign. Tomorrow, I’ll reconnect.”
But tomorrow kept moving… and I kept not noticing that I was falling behind.
I used to think the danger was in choosing haram.
But the real danger?
It’s in choosing everything but Allah even if it’s not haram.That’s the hidden trap.
That’s how we end up trading dunya for akhirah without even realizing it. Allah even if it’s not haram.
It’s when your phone gets more attention than your prayer mat.
When your work earns your excellence, and your salah only gets your leftovers.
When you pour out your heart to people, and save the silence for your du’as.
It’s not rebellion.
It’s not even denial.
It’s distraction — disguised as productivity, busyness, or “life.”
And Shayṭān loves that.
He doesn’t need me to disbelieve.
He just needs me distracted.
Too busy. Too tired. Too “not now.”
You know what’s terrifying?
I didn’t even feel it slipping at first.
I still looked the part.
Still said Alhamdulillah.
Still sent Ramadan Mubarak messages.
Still cried during khutbahs.
But I was leaking.
And what scared me wasn’t that I made mistakes.
It’s that I was becoming okay with them.
“Ya Allah, when did dunya become my home?”
“When did comfort become more important than closeness to You?”
One night, I caught myself whispering:
There was no lightning in response.
No deep spiritual revelation.
Just silence.
And in that silence… I realized:
I missed Him.
I missed the feeling of my heart racing in sujood.
I missed turning the Qur’an pages and feeling like it was talking to me.
I missed being near not just Muslim by name, but Muslim by presence.
By pulse.
By purpose.
So no, this isn’t a story of someone who overcame it all.
I still fall. Still scroll. Delay longer than I should.
But I’ve stopped being okay with it.
And that — that’s where my story shifts.
Not with perfection.
But with permission… to return.
To try again.
To pick up the Qur’an before the phone.
To answer adhan like it’s a meeting I wouldn’t dare miss.
To stop giving excuses more airtime than istighfar.
👉 [Watch the reflection here]
And if you’ve been walking this soft path of delay too —
not in sin, but in spiritual sleep —
maybe this is your nudge.
To remember that we were not created to drift.
We were made to worship.
To return.
To feel.
To burn with love for the One who never stopped waiting for us.
So maybe tonight,
we close the apps.
We open the Qur’an.
And we whisper:
“Ya Allah… I’m tired of trading You.”
Because deep down,
we all just want to come home.
With Love always
Wahida
