Novel Name; My Last Seven Minutes.
Writer Name; Fatima Ahmad.
Insta I’d ; @ants_everafter_27
Status; Complete.
Description;
My Last Seven MInutes is an emotionally driven novel inspired by reality.
It tells the story of Habiba, a woman raised in fear, silenced by society, and bound by expectations she never chose. Her life changes when Qasim enters— a man whose faith is gentle, whose strength is quiet, and whose love heals without controlling. Through loss, trauma, marriage, faith, and grief, Habiba learns that Islam is not a cage but a refuge, and freedom sometimes arrives after unbearable pain.
This novel explores womanhood, faith, emotional healing, and the unseen battles people fight in silence.
SneakPeak;
She became her own support.
A survivor—not waiting for rescue, but walking forward with faith.Those who rely on Allah need no other anchor.And so, Habiba lived.With memory, not misery.With love, not loss.
Because some souls leave the world,but never leave the heart.
Interesting Scenes;
Scene 1
One evening, Qasim brought her a small bouquet of flowers. ” This is for you,” he said softly.
Habiba had accepted the flowers without looking at him.
I think,” she added after a pause, her voice low and tired,“I would have liked them more if they were plants.At least they’d have roots.At least they’d live.”She expected silence. Or disagreement.What she did not expect was action.
The next morning, the courtyard was different.Habiba stood frozen at the doorway.
There were flower plants everywhere—rose plants, jasmine, small pots lined carefully along the wall, soil still fresh, hands still visible in the earth that had been touched with intention. Not decoration. Not display. Something permanent.
Qasim stood there, sleeves rolled up, a little soil on his hands, looking almost shy.
“So Ma’am,” he said softly, with that gentle humor that never mocked.“Your flowers are planted now. Any further commands? I am at your service.”
She said nothing.He continued, his voice calm, sincere:
“Please water them every day.Don’t let my flowers wither.When spring comes, they’ll bloom properly…and it will make me very happy.”
Scene 2
“I think,” she whispered, “you are my reward.”
Qasim smiled, the kind of smile that carried no pride—only gratitude. As if he knew that real blessings are never loud, never forceful. They arrive quietly, and once they do, they change the meaning of everything.
Short Story
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Complete Novel
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