Tale#19: Bedtime Tales: Episode7:The Backpack of Secrets| Tuesday
Sins weigh heavy—but honesty and tawbah (repentance) lift the burden.
It was a Thursday afternoon when Aymen noticed something was off.
Zayn had come home from school unusually quiet. His backpack thudded to the floor as he entered, and without his usual, “Assalamu Alaikum Mama!” he trudged straight to his room.
Aymen paused mid-slice in the kitchen. She looked at Sara, who was spinning in circles pretending to be a ballerina.
“Did something happen at school today?” Aymen asked gently.
Sara shrugged. “Zayn didn’t talk much in the car. He just stared out the window.”
When dinner came around, Zayn barely touched his rice and stew. His spoon moved things around more than it scooped. His eyes kept darting around the table, not really looking at anyone.
Aymen leaned forward, her tone soft but direct.
“Zayn, is there something you want to tell me?”
He looked up, startled. Then shook his head quickly.
“No. I’m just tired, that’s all.”
But his eyes told a different story—one that weighed down his shoulders like invisible bricks.
That night…After tucking in Sara, who was already half-asleep with her stuffed monkey tucked under her chin, Aymen walked into Zayn’s room. He lay on his side, curled under his blanket, staring at the wall.
She sat on the edge of his bed, gently smoothing back a strand of his hair.
“Zayn,” she said, in that warm voice he knew too well, “do you remember the story I once told you about the boy and the treasure map?”
He turned slightly, but didn’t respond. That was enough invitation for her to continue.
“Well, tonight’s story is about a backpack. An invisible one.”
Zayn blinked. That got his attention.
“Once, there was a boy named Omar,” Aymen began, her voice gentle and rhythmic, the room dim except for the soft glow of the night lamp. “He was just like you. Smart, curious, kind-hearted. But one day, something happened. He broke a school science project by accident—but when the teacher asked, he said nothing.”
Zayn shifted slightly under the covers.
“From that moment,” Aymen continued, “a backpack appeared on Omar’s back. Not one anyone could see. Only he could feel it. At first, it was light. Barely there. But every time he kept a secret or told a lie to cover up the first one… a pebble dropped into it.”
Zayn's eyes stayed fixed on his mother now.
“One when he lied to his teacher. One when he ignored his friend who asked about it. One more when he snapped at his mom out of frustration. Day after day, the pebbles gathered. Until one morning… Omar couldn’t get out of bed.”
“He was crushed under the weight of guilt. Tired. Angry. And sad. He didn’t want to play. He didn’t want to smile. He just… wanted to be alone.”
Aymen’s voice softened even more.
“Do you know what he did then?”
Zayn shook his head slowly.
“He cried. Right into his pillow. He said, ‘Ya Allah… I messed up. I was scared to tell the truth. Please forgive me. Please help me fix it.’”
“And something amazing happened,” she said, her voice lighter now. “He felt one pebble fall out of the backpack. Then another. And another. Until he could breathe again.”
“He stood up, told the truth to his teacher, said sorry to his friend, hugged his mom, and promised Allah that he’d try to be brave and honest next time.”
“The backpack?” she smiled. “It was still there. But light as a feather. And every time he was honest, every time he made tawbah, it stayed that way.”
Zayn stared at the ceiling.
After a long pause, he finally whispered, “Mama…”
Aymen leaned in.
“I broke the smart board at school today. I was trying to reach the top shelf in class and knocked something over… it hit the screen. I didn’t tell anyone. Everyone was asking who did it. I—I didn’t say a word.”
His voice cracked. “And it’s been hurting in my chest all day.”
Aymen didn’t say anything. She simply opened her arms.
Zayn dove into her hug, tears spilling quietly onto her shoulder.
After a long, quiet moment, she whispered:
“That’s the first pebble gone, habibi.”
The next day…Zayn woke up feeling… different.
Still nervous, but lighter.
That morning, he told his teacher the truth. He even helped clean up the tech shelf. His teacher smiled, touched by his honesty. “It takes courage to own up,” she said.
When he came home, he ran straight to Aymen.
“Mama! I did it. I told the truth.”
She smiled and ruffled his hair.
“No more backpack?”
Zayn laughed. “I think it’s still there… but today it felt empty.”
That night, before turning off the light, Aymen tucked him in and said softly:
“Zayn, we all carry invisible backpacks. They fill with our secrets, our mistakes, our sins. But Allah didn’t leave us without a way to empty them. That’s why He gave us tawbah—repentance. That’s why He gave us courage.”
She kissed his forehead and whispered,
“What matters isn’t never messing up… what matters is being brave enough to clean your heart when you do.”