SOULS RE WRITTEN
- Farhat Yasir
- Jun 26
- 15 min read
FARHAT YASIR
“Some souls are not meant to stay forever; they arrive only to rewrite the pages we thought were already complete.”
— Farhat Yasir, Soul Rewritten
18TH AUGUST/2024 | "Mash Up life started with love" |
4TH APRIL/2025 | "Two souls became one life." |
Atlantis Publications strive to cultivate reading habit through the low-cost publication of enlightened and creative literature.
This is a work of fiction. All the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental
Contents
Title: Soul Rewritten............................................................ 5
Author: Mrs.Farhat Yaisr..................................................... 7
Preface
Love doesn’t check calendars. It doesn’t ask for age, history, or permission. Sometimes it arrives late, and still feels perfectly right. This is the story of how I found love when no one expected it — not even me. They said I was too old. That he was too young. But Allah writes hearts to meet at the right moment, not the same age. This is not a story of rebellion — it’s a story of rizq, of qadr, and of hearts that found home.
Written in My Season
By Mrs. Farhat Yasir
They said I had missed the age of love. That life after widowhood or motherhood was meant only for responsibilities, not romance. But I believe that Allah writes every love story in its own season. Some bloom in youth. Some bloom in hardship. Mine? It bloomed in the most unexpected chapter of my life — when I had stopped looking, but had started healing. This is not just a love story. It is proof that love is never late — it’s just written in your season.
My Season Inspiration Soul Rewritten
Title: Soul Rewritten Author: Mrs.FarhatYASIR
Two Souls Became One Life
Two souls met beneath silent skies, Carrying untold dreams in their two eyes hearts slowly learned to belong, Turning broken whispers into song.
No longer two paths wandering apart,But one rhythm, one breath, one heart.Bound by love through joy and strife,Two souls became one life
“To love someone deeply is not to possess them, but to honor the space where their soul can bloom, even if it blooms away from you."
--- Summary In English Literature
“It was never just love; it was a rewrite of fate.” Chapter One: Where Silence Recognized me
I didn’t fall in love with you. I remembered you— like a name I never spoke, but my soul whispered every night.
You walked in, not as a stranger, but as a silence I had always known—the kind that fills the air before a storm, or just after a prayer is answered.
We weren’t written in ink. We were etched in echoes—the kind that only hearts can read.
And still, I wonder…Was it this life that brought you to me? Or had we left unfinished stories on the edge of a past we both forgot?
It was an evening in 2015. A soft knock echoed at the door. My husband was seated in the drawing room, absorbed in some program. As usual, I was ready—thirty-one years of age, a time when a woman’s grace often blossoms.
As I walked toward the door, I found a man standing in front—dressed in white shalwar kameez and a white cap, his gaze lowered with a subtle expression on his lips.
"Is at home?" he asked gently.
I nodded. "Yes, he is." I informed my husband, who responded, "Yes, that’s Send him in."
I invited the guest inside and served tea. That fleeting image of him at the door would never return.
Not long after, my husband brought home a white Corolla GLi. It stood in front of our house. I asked about it. He did not answer, only saying, "Take care of it."
The neighbors began complaining about the parking issue, so we brought the car into our porch. One day, while washing it in frustration, I asked, "When will this car leave?"
At that time, my husband had fallen ill, and all responsibilities fell upon me. Time moved on. One day, he mentioned the friend I had once seen at the door.
"Design his company logo, manage his invoices, accounts, and audit," he said.
These tasks I enjoyed. I worked tirelessly, day and night. My husband began a business with that friend and planned ahead.
I never saw that man again after 2015, but through cars, files, and subtle signs, he remained a part of my life.
My husband often praised him—punctual, soft- spoken, a soul of sincerity. His words and persona left a deep impression on me.
Time passed. We had three daughters and one son. Life carried on with the balance of family, children, and office work.
In March 2021, I received a call—my husband was gravely ill. I took the children to my mother's, and my husband was taken to the hospital with my brother.
Dr. Hina told us it was the final stage of gangrene. Financially broken, I turned to prayer. Allah sent help through friends and relatives.
After six years, that friend returned. He stood by us in the hospital. For the first time, I sat beside him alone in the car. An unfamiliar comfort, a mysterious pull tugged at my heart…
In June 2021, my husband passed away. Dread bathed his body except for one man. Fear of illness kept others away.
After my husband, only he stepped forward again and again, saying, "These children are mine now." He took financial responsibility for them.
I gathered courage. Being a graduate, I started a small garments business. Allah opened ways for me. We stayed at my mother’s home. He would often visit to check garmenton the children.
Three years passed, just like shifting seasons—life kept changing too.
In those difficult years, I stood by Yasir as a friend. He never kept secrets from me. We prayed together. Yasir is a man who does not fear hard work. He lost everything, yet never cared for
opinions, nor gave in to pressures or cruel questions from relatives. With patience and unwavering faith, he persevered—and eventually, Allah restored everything he had lost.
Today, by Allah’s grace, he lives a prosperous life again. But in that hardship, we both discovered the true faces of people. Yasir is a man of self-respect and deep love—but he never returns to doors where hearts have been broken.
Today, we are both content. Yasir calls me his dearest wife and best friend. We hide nothing from each other. There is respect, reverence, and what we have is not mere love—it is a sacred bond.
Our children, too, share this warmth. InshAllah, very soon Yasir will inform his first wife about me. Together, we will live as a complete and happy family.
People say love happens only once—and only in youth. But we are both 40+, mature, understanding, and what we share is Love. It may sound strange to some, but if life offers another chance—live it fearlessly. This is all the work of Allah.
I found one heart in this world—and before that, my soul had already been written into someone’s destiny. That soul met me in this phase of life.
Love, desire, affection—they know no age. Like unseasonal rain, they pour down as mercy.
They become a scent, unique and known only to two hearts that truly love.
And so, I wrote a new life story—from heart to soul, where grief turned into oneness.
We are soulmates. True lovers…
And if you are alone, sad, or waiting—then in the solitude of Tahajjud, ask your Lord to send a sincere, true companion. Allah listens to every heartfelt plea and transforms destinies through dua.
Until Yasir came into my life again, I kep, t asking Allah: "Either write him in my fate—or remove him from my heart."
But deep down I knew—the man who once touched my heart in 2015, whose car I once resented—this could not be a coincidence.
We both admired each other at first sight. That alone is proof—our names were written together by Allah long ago.
He is Akhunzada. I am Yousufi Zai.
Soon, InshAllah, we’ll move into our new home with our children—and begin a new life together, wrapped in the same love.
---
Remember me in your prayers.
“I AM HIS SECOND WIFE” — my next novel is on the way.
It holds a powerful message for every woman.
By: Farhat YASIR
|Chapter I
THE KNOCK
ONCE SIGHT CRUSH
Skip to content
Chapter 1: Where Silence Recognized Me Poetic Narrative
I didn’t fall in love with you. I remembered you—
like a name I never spoke,
but my soul whispered every night.
You walked in, not as a stranger,
but as a silence I had always known. The kind that fills the air before a storm, or just after a prayer is answered.
We weren’t written in ink.
We were etched in echoes—
the kind that only hearts can read.
And still, I wonder…
Was it this life that brought you to me?
Or had we left unfinished stories
on the edge of a past, we both forgot?
It was an evening in 2015.
A soft knock at the door stirred something deep inside me.
Like every other evening, I was dressed—
but that evening came holding a silent destiny in its hands.
A tall figure in white—shalwar kameez, a white cap,
Gentle eyes lowered, lips barely moved, “Is home?” he asked,
and my heartbeat answered before I could.
I brushed away the strange feeling, Told him yes, and stepped inside to inform my ailing husband.
“Yes, that’s him,” he said. “Let him in.”
I brought him tea later, like tradition. But that glimpse I caught at the door— I never saw again.
Days turned into months.
One day, a white Corolla GLI stood in our porch.
I asked who it belonged to, but my husband didn’t answer.
“Just take care of it,” he said.
Neighbors complained—parking issues— so, we moved it inside our gate.
Washing it one day, I kicked the tire twice and muttered,
“When will this car leave?” But how could I know—
it held the silence of someone’s story.
My husband was unwell,
And slowly, the weight of everything rested on my shoulders.
Sometime later, he mentioned the same friend again—
Told me to help with some company files, invoice designs, audits.
I worked days and nights—Excel sheets, PDFs, things I actually enjoyed.
My husband and that same friend began business work together.
After 2015, I never saw him again.
But unknowingly, I moved through his world: in his cars, through his designs,
through every word my husband shared.
Among all his friends, I was most drawn to him. His calm personality left a quiet impression.
Years passed—three daughters, one son.
I managed the home, the children, the office.
Until that Sunday morning in March 2021… A call that changed everything.
My husband had fallen terribly sick— 104° fever, pain unbearable.
I brought the children from my mother’s home and rushed him to the hospital.
That’s where I heard the words, I wasn’t ready for—
“It’s the last stage of gangrene.” I wasn’t financially stable,
But friends and relatives stepped in.
And after six long years— he reappeared.
That same man.
The one I had only glimpsed. He helped, stood by us,
And for the first time in my life—
I sat beside a man in a car… alone. But somehow, it didn’t feel wrong. It felt like hope.
It felt like fate humming beneath the surface.
On June 22nd, my husband passed away. No one came forward to bathe the body… Except him.
That one man—
while others feared infection,
he stepped forward in love and courage.
After that, he became the only one who kept saying,
“These are my children now.”
He began supporting us quietly—monthly, steadily.
I tried too—picked up courage, Started a garment business.
Slowly, Allah made ways for me.
The kids and I stayed with my mother. He would visit often—
to check in, to ask nothing but care.
Three years passed.
Like seasons passing through silence, Life continued—
carrying the weight of things unspoken.
|Chapter 2
The One Who Never Asked, But Always Stayed
Poetic Narrative – English Translation
Suddenly, some men expressed the desire to marry me.
All businessmen—wealthy, well-known, stable. But none of them mentioned my children.
Not even once.
As if I was complete without them. As if a mother’s love was optional.
Could I strip my children
of the only piece of love, they still had left? No.
Whatever our life was—it was enough. It was sacred.
Days later, my brother said,
“There are good proposals—just say yes to one.”
I replied without thinking,
“Only if he’s someone like Yasir.”
Yasir...
The same man I saw only once— in 2015, standing at my door.
My late husband Shoaib’s loyal, sincere friend.
God placed a strange calm in my heart for him—
Though he never said a single word about love or marriage.
It was in the way he spoke,
the way his voice soothed me over calls, how he loved my children like his own— with a quiet warmth that felt like home.
I thought about telling him myself, “If you feel anything, I am here.”
If he didn’t—life would still be beautiful.
When I decided to take my garments business into a brand-level partnership,
I had to meet many people—outside, face to face. My designer Yumna stood by me like a shadow— Honest. Loyal. Brave.
And then one day— Yasir called. Unexpected.
“I want to join your business,” he said. “I want to support you.”
I was surprised… But silently, I smiled.
Because somewhere, I had been waiting.
I was alone.
And by now, I had learned— that when a woman is alone, society sees her as a leftover,
a body left behind by the dead.
“Go talk to her,” they say.
“Maybe she was meant for someone else now.”
I was tired of that world—
tired of eyes that scanned more than they saw.
But Yasir...
People like him are rare. Transparent. Trustworthy.
He was away, in his ancestral village. And I began to wait.
For his return— So, we could sit,
not just to plan a business…
But maybe to write
a brand-new chapter of life—together.
|Chapter 3
Fearless Beginning
Poetic Narrative – English Translation
It was the evening of July 24th When Yasir called for the first time— Casual, unguarded…
My heart asked, “What does he wish to say?”
I replied, “Come to Karachi— I will wait for you.”
On the morning of August 18th, 2024, at eleven, He arrived—same silhouette, same hush—
His eyes widened at my attire:
“Jeans, shirt… that bracelet?”
Even the veil I wore, he quietly disapproved.
Then, suddenly—his hand on mine,
“I like you,”
His words ignited a new sunrise within me. I stood there, thoughful and elated—
“The one I longed for has come by God’s will.”
Together we began—
Not just to build business,
But to understand one another’s souls.
I discovered the white Corolla GLI— The very car from 2015’s soft knock— Was his all along.
By chance, we were both Aquarius— Habits, dreams, desires—strikingly aligned.
The spoke of that first meeting: “Your face is like a storybook…
May I see you before our marriage?”
I answered, “You have every right,
But first, I must seek my four sisters’ blessings.”
By God’s grace, the date was set— I lifted my veil for him—
As if nature itself confirmed:
Our souls were destined to meet.
A married father, a single mother—
Yet our hearts beat in the same sacred rhythm.
I confessed, “I chose Shoaib for my soul— We laughed, we cried—eleven years of us.”
Family ties and silent griefs lingered— But our love never wavered.
I recalled Hazrat Ali’s words:
“When two hearts unite, love blossoms— When two souls unite,
love ignites before eyes even meet.”
And so, we—two souls, one essence; Two hearts, one heartbeat.
On April 4th, 2025, by God’s decree, We were wed—
And two bodies became one garment of love.
|Chapter 4
From Loss to Lifelong Vows
Poetic Narrative – English Translation
When Yasir first spoke to my brothers about marriage,
He was in the middle of a new business merger— With three retired army men,
Intelligent… yet deceivers in disguise. I don’t even like to speak their names.
They painted him visions of global growth, Gave him maps of dreams with golden borders.
With sincerity in his heart, Yasir invested everything—
His energy, his plans, and nearly 30 million rupees.
All lost.
Drowned in the darkness of betrayal.
He spiraled into quiet despair, Depression settled in.
And on top of that, My family asked,
“When will the nikah take place?” But he didn’t run.
Instead, he stood tall
And chose April 4th as our wedding day— Just after Eid,
As if to mark the end of loss With the beginning of forever.
Only I knew
The storm inside him.
His chemical business was also struggling quietly.
Yet he showed up With calm strength,
And made sure every wedding detail was beautifully arranged.
He kept his promise. Not just in words— But with actions.
Our nikah was simple, yet spiritual—
A vow between two souls that had already met long ago.
I’m proud of Yasir— A family man, Honest, hardworking, Loyal to his word,
Obedient to his parents.
A husband who holds, A father who protects.
I thank Allah for gifting me a man like Yasir— And for giving my children
The rare blessing
Of a guardian who loves without condition.
May Allah always keep his shade over us. Ameen. ❣
Would you like to continue to Chapter 5 next? Some theme options:
✦ The First Days Together: Adjusting into married life with blended families
✦ New Strength: Building business again together post-loss
✦ Quiet Prayers: Nights when you cried and he didn’t know, and vice versa
✦ A Dream of Shoaib: Closure, healing, or a spiritual sign
|Chapter 5
The Shadow Beside Him
Through the darkest days,
I walked beside Yasir not as a wife, But as a friend—
A silent shadow that never left his side.
He never hid a single truth from me. I never turned away.
Together, we whispered prayers into the night, Our hands raised, asking for one thing:
Strength, provision, and protection from the hearts of the unkind.
Yasir is the kind of man Who never fears hard work.
He lost everything—
His savings, his vision, his comforts… But he never lost his will.
He bore the weight— Of gossiping relatives, Of interrogating family,
Of people whose faces turned The moment fortune faded.
But he stood firm. Trusted Allah.
Planted his patience in the soil And watered it with faith.
And then—
The harvest came.
His efforts bore fruit. Allah returned everything,
Not just wealth,
But honor, stability, peace.
Today, Yasir is thriving once more. Alhamdulillah.
Yet there is one thing
That remains carved in our hearts:
When we had nothing—
we saw who people truly were.
Yasir is a man of dignity,
Who gives love and respect generously— But he will never again
Step through a door
That once shattered his heart.
He does not stop—but he never forgets.
| Chapter 6
Love Knows No Age
Poetic Narrative – English Translation
Today, we are truly happy.
Yasir calls me his beloved wife—his truest friend.
There are no secrets between us, Only respect, loyalty,
And a love that has outgrown even the word love—this is Ishq.
What binds us is not just hearts,
But two souls wrapped in understanding.
Even our children carry that warmth,
As if love quietly passed between them too. Alhamdulillah.
Very soon, Yasir will share everything with his first wife,
And together, we will all build
A blended, beautiful, breathing family. InshaAllah.
I can’t imagine life without Yasir— And he can’t breathe without me.
They say love happens only once— And only in youth.
But that’s only half the truth.
We are both 40+
Yet our emotions are young, Our connection, timeless.
And this is the truth—
If life offers you a second chance, You must live it fearlessly.
This story was already written by Allah. My heart found Yasir in this world—
But my soul had always belonged to him.
Love, desire, longing… They carry no age.
Like unexpected rain,
They descend gently, as mercy.
And then, they become a fragrance— One that only true lovers can smell.
I have written this new life story, Not just with ink—
But with a heart that reached into the soul.
Where even grief became shared, And love renamed itself…
Soulmates. True lovers.
One spirit, two hearts. One eternal truth.
Destinies Are Written in Prayer
English Poetic Translation
If you are alone,
If sadness walks beside you, If silence feels like a weight—
Then believe this with your whole heart:
Rise for tahajjud.
Whisper your longing to Allah.
Ask for a companion, A sincere soul—
Not just one who shares your days, But one who sees into your soul.
Allah hears every tear-born prayer. And prayers…
They can shift fate.
Before I reconnected with Yasir, I used to pray just this:
“Either write him in my destiny, Or remove him from my heart.”
But deep inside, I always knew…
The man I saw once in 2015,
Whose mere presence stirred something in me, Even though I was annoyed by his Corolla—
He wasn’t just a coincidence.
We were written—long ago,
In a place where souls are paired Before eyes even meet.
For how else could it be, That in a single glance, We felt like home?
He—a proud Akhunzada. I—a softhearted Yousufzai.
And now, we are about to begin A new chapter, together.
Soon, we will move
Into our peaceful new home— With our children,
With our faith,
And with the same love That rewrote our souls.
This isn’t just a love story.
Nazm: Soul Rewritten (Urdu Poetry Summary)
Conclusion – Soul Rewritten (English poetic style)
In the silence of grief,
I found the whisper of a new beginning. What was broken did not vanish —
it became the soil for something sacred to grow.
He was not a replacement. He was a reminder—
that love doesn't die, it transforms.
In the chapters of pain,
Allah wrote a verse of healing.
And in the arms of the unexpected, I found peace,
not in forgetting, but in rewriting...
what the soul still remembers.
Soul Rewritten – Final Message (English poetic version)
Allah created woman from Adam’s rib — soft in nature, precious in worth,
a garment of peace for man,
as man was made a pillar of strength for her.
Nikah was made sacred —
a cover of love and protection.
Yet today, many women either fear love or flee from it, calling it freedom.
But know this:
He who writes destinies also rewrites them
for those who ask sincerely, with humility, and with hope.
If you too carry a heart waiting — then veil yourself in faith,
seek with haya, not haste —
and surely, a Yasir written in sincerity will be sent your way.
Because sometimes,
the soul is not broken — only waiting to be rewritten.
"A woman looks truly beautiful only beside the man who is her husband — for in halal love, there is the light of modesty."
Beauty (Poetry by Farhat Yasir – for Soul Rewritten)
She blossoms beautifully when wrapped in the sacred veil of marriage, fragrant with tenderness, loyalty, and the quiet grace of modesty.
Not in the noise of melodies and applause, not beneath the passing gaze of strangers—she finds peace beside the one chosen for her soul.
Silent prayers resting upon her lips, truthful love living within her heart—these are a woman's truest jewels; not gold, nor the glitter of worldly colors.
And the woman who becomes the sacred covering of a man's life becomes a mercy sent by God.
Because a blessed bond is a lamp, within which love keeps burning...and heaven continues to flicker softly in its light.
— Farhat Yasir |Soul Rewritten|🌙✨
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SOUL REWRITTEN
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