Yā Rabb, You linked the scale to the path with one shared word: mustaqīm. I ask You for the path seventeen times a day. Ihdinā al-ṣirāṭa al-mustaqīm. And You answered, through Shuʿayb's tongue, with a parallel command: wa zinū bi-l-qisṭās al-mustaqīm. As if to say: the path I am guiding you to has the same architecture as the scale I am commanding you to keep. Both must be straight. Both must be unbent. Forgive me, ya Allāh, for the gap between the Fātiḥah I recite and the scales I keep. Forgive me for the rakʿāt that asked for the mustaqīm path while my hand tilted scales just outside the masjid door. Forgive every leaned weight, every padded estimate, every selective omission in a story I told, every inflated quote, every shortened delivery. Each was a small bend in my qisṭās, and therefore a small bend in my ṣirāṭ. Straighten both, ya Rabb. Straighten the scales of my business so the path of my soul straightens with them. Make my invoices honest. Make my deliverables complete. Make my words about my own work calibrated. Make my words about others measured. And when I stand to pray and ask You for the straight path, let me arrive at that prayer with my own scales already pointing straight, so the request matches the practice, and the practice matches the request. Āmīn ya Hādī, ya Ḥadīd al-ʿIqāb, ya Razzāq al-ʿAẓīm.