Yā Rabb, You taught me ʿadl when I most needed an excuse not to practice it. At the ending of a marriage. At the ending of a business. At the ending of a friendship that turned sour. At every doorway where the easy thing was to leave the scale tilted. And You said no. Either keep it honorably or release it honorably. Fāmrazaūhunna bi-maʿrūf aw fārīqūhunna bi-maʿrūf. Ya Allāh, You know how many times I have been so wounded by an ending that I thought my pain entitled me to a discount on ʿadl. To say one extra word against them. To take one extra item that was not mine. To tell my version of the story without telling theirs. To slander them quietly in front of mutual friends because 'they deserve it.' Forgive me, ya Rabb. None of those small subtractions from justice were Yours. All of them were my own wound being dressed in the costume of righteousness. Make me a believer who, when something ends, ends it the way You said: bi-maʿrūf, honourably, with witnesses, with the door closed properly behind me, without a single shaved gram of justice on the way out. And ya Allah, You closed this verse with a promise that no one offered me but You. 'And whoever fears Allah, He will make a way out for them.' Wa man yattaqi-llāha yajʿal lahu makhrajan. So at every ending in my life remaining, ya Rabb, let me choose taqwā over revenge, justice over pain, iḥsān over the cheap satisfaction of the last word. And open the door that no one else could see. Open it for me. Open it for the one I am ending things with. Open it for the children watching us model how endings happen in Islam. Āmīn ya Fattāḥ.