Let me Pipe Up real quick.

Qalb means heart, and wiqāyah means protection.

I know what it feels like to be wide open one season and walled off the next. To give someone the softest parts of your qalb, and they treat it like it came with no cost. Like you got endless chances inside you to restart. Like your warmth is disposable.

You’re not cold now. You’re just under wiqāyah.

You used to call it love. But it wasn’t love. Love doesn’t hollow you out and leave. Love doesn’t come back with excuses and promises only to break the same pieces twice.

So you built walls. I get it. You needed something to stop the bleeding.

But listen— don’t confuse wiqāyah with loneliness. Don’t call your caution a curse.

You’re not broken for being careful. You’re not bitter for needing to step back before you let someone close again.

But your qalb was made to beat, not barricade.

Even the Prophet ﷺ loved. Deeply. Openly. And he was betrayed, abandoned, tested. But he never shut down. He turned that pain into dua, into mercy, into light. That's wiqāyah. That’s knowing what to protect—and what not to kill inside yourself.

So yeah. Stay guarded. But not hidden.

Stay discerning. But not dead inside.

Let the lessons turn into filters, not walls. Let the heartbreak shape how you move—not whether you move.

Your qalb deserves protection. But it also deserves rahmah, and laughter, and safe spaces, and the kind of love that feels like a dua being answered slowly.

Let someone earn the version of you that still hopes. Let Allah keep you soft in the ways that matter.

Because your qalb still has barakah left in it.

And you don’t need to be perfect to be protected. You just need to stay real and walk like your heart is worth guarding. Because it is.

Remember we all carry something, but here you don't have to carry it alone. Pipe Up.

A great way to protect your heart is by journaling. We have a free download 7 day reflections journal just for you.

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