I was only a servant girl then, young and quiet, trusted enough to serve in the house of the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ — the final Messenger of Allah. You won’t find my name in any surah, but I remember one thing more clearly than anything else from those days: the way he loved his daughter, Fatimah (RA).
That night after Uhud, the city of Medina felt heavier than ever before. Uhud was the name of the battle the Muslims had just fought outside the city, against an army much larger than ours. So many of the beloved companions had died—brave men who stood firmly beside the Prophet ﷺ. Some say even the Prophet himself had been injured.
I was there when the Prophet ﷺ came home from the Battle of Uhud. His face was shadowed with bruises and dust, and his armor clinked as he stepped carefully into the house. I thought he would rest. Any man would, after what he had been through. But instead, he called for her.
“Bring me Fatimah,” he said softly.
She came running—not like a noblewoman, but like a daughter who had heard her father was hurt. Fatimah (RA) was the youngest daughter of the Prophet ﷺ, and though she had married and lived with her husband, Ali ibn Abi Talib (RA), her heart never left her father’s side.
As soon as she saw him, tears filled her eyes. I backed away into the shadows, not wanting to interrupt, but I saw it all.
She began cleaning his wounds with water and wiping the dried blood from his face. She treated him not like a warrior but like a beloved father, and he let her—his voice calm, his hand resting gently on hers. When the bleeding didn’t stop, she used burnt palm leaves to stop it. Our scholars say this moment showed not just her love, but her strength.
I had never seen anything like it. I understood then that Fatimah wasn’t just his daughter. She was his comfort, his mirror, and the one who carried his character into the next generation.
Later that night, I overheard someone ask the Prophet ﷺ why he stood up every time Fatimah entered the room.
“She is part of me,” he said. “Whoever angers her, angers me.”
That stayed with me. In a time when girls were often buried alive at birth, the Prophet ﷺ had raised his daughter with dignity and honor. He didn’t just protect her—he showed the world how high a daughter could stand. It made me think of my own worth differently after that.
Years later, I still carry that memory. I saw that love. I saw that strength.
And I saw how Allah’s Messenger ﷺ, even in pain, led with love—and how Fatimah (RA), the radiant daughter, stood beside him, strong like her father, carrying his light into future generations.
Story Note: Inspired by authentic narrations found in the Seerah (biography) of Prophet Muhammad ﷺ, including accounts of the Battle of Uhud and the Prophet’s ﷺ deep love and honor for his daughter, Fatimah bint Muhammad (RA).
I was only a servant girl then, young and quiet, trusted enough to serve in the house of the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ — the final Messenger of Allah. You won’t find my name in any surah, but I remember one thing more clearly than anything else from those days: the way he loved his daughter, Fatimah (RA).
That night after Uhud, the city of Medina felt heavier than ever before. Uhud was the name of the battle the Muslims had just fought outside the city, against an army much larger than ours. So many of the beloved companions had died—brave men who stood firmly beside the Prophet ﷺ. Some say even the Prophet himself had been injured.
I was there when the Prophet ﷺ came home from the Battle of Uhud. His face was shadowed with bruises and dust, and his armor clinked as he stepped carefully into the house. I thought he would rest. Any man would, after what he had been through. But instead, he called for her.
“Bring me Fatimah,” he said softly.
She came running—not like a noblewoman, but like a daughter who had heard her father was hurt. Fatimah (RA) was the youngest daughter of the Prophet ﷺ, and though she had married and lived with her husband, Ali ibn Abi Talib (RA), her heart never left her father’s side.
As soon as she saw him, tears filled her eyes. I backed away into the shadows, not wanting to interrupt, but I saw it all.
She began cleaning his wounds with water and wiping the dried blood from his face. She treated him not like a warrior but like a beloved father, and he let her—his voice calm, his hand resting gently on hers. When the bleeding didn’t stop, she used burnt palm leaves to stop it. Our scholars say this moment showed not just her love, but her strength.
I had never seen anything like it. I understood then that Fatimah wasn’t just his daughter. She was his comfort, his mirror, and the one who carried his character into the next generation.
Later that night, I overheard someone ask the Prophet ﷺ why he stood up every time Fatimah entered the room.
“She is part of me,” he said. “Whoever angers her, angers me.”
That stayed with me. In a time when girls were often buried alive at birth, the Prophet ﷺ had raised his daughter with dignity and honor. He didn’t just protect her—he showed the world how high a daughter could stand. It made me think of my own worth differently after that.
Years later, I still carry that memory. I saw that love. I saw that strength.
And I saw how Allah’s Messenger ﷺ, even in pain, led with love—and how Fatimah (RA), the radiant daughter, stood beside him, strong like her father, carrying his light into future generations.
Story Note: Inspired by authentic narrations found in the Seerah (biography) of Prophet Muhammad ﷺ, including accounts of the Battle of Uhud and the Prophet’s ﷺ deep love and honor for his daughter, Fatimah bint Muhammad (RA).
