Yā Rabb, You closed the mīzān cluster the way only You could close it. You raised the sky on a balance (Day 230). You forbade transgression in it (Day 231). You commanded its uprightness (Day 232). You revealed the scales of the Last Day where not a mustard seed is lost (Day 229). And then You closed with a prophet standing in a marketplace, addressing his people in the gentlest language he could find, calling them 'my people,' and asking them to give full measure. They refused. They mocked him. They killed him. And You shook the earth from beneath their feet. Ya Allāh, this is not ancient history. This is You teaching every believer who has ever held a cash register, every Muslim landlord, every Muslim contractor, every Muslim writer of an invoice, every Muslim parent dividing an inheritance, every Muslim wage-payer to a worker, every Muslim engineer charging by the hour, that the mīzān is the pillar under our civilization. Tilt it, and You bring it down. Honor it, and You bless it. Forgive me, ya Rabb, for every tilted gram I have left on a scale somewhere in my past. Bring them to my conscience this week so I can make them right. The brother I overcharged, let me find a way to refund. The cousin I underpaid, let me make it up with interest given as a gift. The customer I gave less than promised, let me reach out. And from this point forward, let me be a believer whom the prophet Shuʿayb (peace be upon him) would have stood next to in the sūq of Madyan without rebuke. Let my measure be full. Let my weight be full. Let my words about transactions be full. And let me, in every sphere I influence, be a voice for those who keep the scale upright, against the soft pressure of an industry that has normalized small ṭughyān. Ya Allāh, You ended a civilization over the scale. Do not let me, or my children, or my children's children, be among those whose hands tilt it. Begin with mine today. Āmīn ya ʿAdl, ya Muqsiṭ.