Yuhibbunahum: Kahubbillah Wallazina Amanuu Ashaddu Hubban Lillah -al-baqarah 165-

That night, in the ruins of his heart, he heard a recitation of : “Wallazina amanu ashaddu hubban lillah…” “Those who believe are more intense in love for Allah.” Not less love. More intense.

One day, Layla returned. She found him at peace. She asked, “Do you still love me?”

He realized: the problem wasn’t loving Layla. The problem was loving her as if she were divine—eternal, flawless, the source of his existence. But she was a mirror, not the sun. That night, in the ruins of his heart,

One night, Layla left. Not cruelly—just her own road took her elsewhere. Zayd collapsed. He cried out to the empty room: “You were my god, and you have abandoned me.”

He smiled. “More than before. But now I do not worship you. And because I no longer worship you, I can truly love you.” She found him at peace

True tawhid (divine oneness) doesn’t empty the heart. It rearranges it. You love people through God, not instead of God.

Zayd loved a woman named with a love that consumed him. He woke thinking of her, slept dreaming of her. He made promises to her that only God should receive: “You are my peace, my purpose, my paradise.” He would say, “If she leaves me, life ends.” But she was a mirror, not the sun

So Zayd began to practice a strange discipline: every time he felt his heart attach to something fleeting—a person, a dream, a possession—he would pause and say: “You are beautiful, but you are not God. I love you, but I love Him more.” Years passed. He became known not as a cold ascetic, but as someone whose love for others was —no clinging, no possessiveness, no devastation when things changed. Because his root was firm. His branches could sway.