The Daily - ‘Modern Love’: If You Want This Kind of Love, Don’t Expect it to be Easy

Episode Date: June 1, 2025

When Samaiya Mushtaq was growing up, she imagined marrying a kind Muslim man, and at 21, she did. But while studying to become a psychiatrist in medical school, she realized her husband couldn’t meet her emotional needs — something she deeply craved. Despite the shame she felt, she got a divorce.In this episode, Mushtaq shares the twists and turns of her unexpected second chance at love, where service is at the center. From working in health care during the pandemic to building a family to undertaking harrowing service trips to Gaza, she found what she truly needed in a marriage — only after letting go of what she thought she wanted.Samaiya Mushtaq’s memoir will be published by Daybreak Press next winter.This episode was inspired by her 2023 essay, “Must We Feel Shame Over Divorce?”For more Modern Love, search for the show wherever you get your podcasts. New episodes every Wednesday.  Unlock full access to New York Times podcasts and explore everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

Love now and always. Love was stronger than anything. I feel the love. Love. And I love you more than anything. There's still love. Love. He was a good person.

He seemed caring. There wasn't anything wrong with him. Sure, he's not emotionally complicated, but maybe emotionally being simple is a good thing. Sameya Mushtak grew up hoping to marry a nice Muslim man. I didn't really hear about marriage as this really joyful or emotionally connected type of union. It seemed like much more. You marry somebody that you have a lot of shared characteristics with, you have children with them, and you raise those children.

While she was in college, Sameah met that nice man. At 21, when she was in medical school, they got married. But as the marriage progressed, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. Those moments where I was really vulnerable talking about something, and the reaction wasn't like an emotional hug. It was just, those were so painful. Sameah witnessed some really difficult things

when she was in med school. She tried talking to her husband about her feelings, but he couldn't go there with her. So one day, after a really hard rotation, she decided it was easier to keep her feelings to herself. He was watching TV or something, and I just went into our room, and I sat down, had my back against the door, and I just cried. And that's when I think I really understood this is not something that's sustainable. I liken it to death by a thousand paper cuts. Samaya realized she had to leave. I had separated, stayed with my parents, tried to go to couples therapy, went back, separated

again. And then that second time I was like, you know, I just have to make a decision, go through that tunnel of anxiety and fear and shame and get to the other side. other side. From the New York Times, I'm Anna Martin. This is Modern Love. Each week, we bring you stories inspired by the Modern Love column. Today, Samea Mushtak tells us what was on the other side of that tunnel of anxiety and fear. It's a story that taught her to love, selflessly, and in a way she could never have predicted.

Stay with us. Samea Mushtak, welcome to Modern Love. Thank you, Anna. I'm excited to be here. I'm gonna jump right in with you. When you finally decided to get a divorce, what was that like for you emotionally? I think at that time, it was definitely made harder

that I just didn't know anyone who'd gone through that. And it just seemed like such a U-turn and failure. And I don't mess things up so colossally. So to be able to acknowledge that, not just to myself, but then to have this be announced to anybody I've ever met and have them know, it just felt so embarrassing and shameful. Tell me about the moment where it became real for everyone. So we're all in my parents' living room. It was middle of August or something, I think, in 2016.

Their formal living room, which is also, I think, interesting. And my husband was there, my parents, his parents. And my understanding going into it was that this is where my husband and I were going to share this decision that was, if not necessarily mutual, but we both had aligned on. But then it was more the parents in particular really trying to talk me out of it. So lots of questions from his parents, my parents. I remember my mom specifically saying, he doesn't hurt you, he's not a bad person. His mother is saying something about how he took me traveling to so many countries. It was like a case being made by everyone about why what I am deciding is wrong,

and how he's right and I need to course correct. I think that's probably the peak of loneliness. I felt so solitary and so alone in that decision. And it was like, is my judgment off? Like, have I just been interpreting the last three years wrong? It had such an impact on my psyche of like, I can't trust anything I think or feel or decisions I make. I can't even make eye contact with anybody because I felt so ashamed and I'm looking at my parents' rug and I just, I don't know what I reached into within myself, one little like flame left of like, maybe I am right.

Maybe I just need to trust this tiny shred I have left of certainty in myself and belief that what I think and feel and understand matters. And I just said, I can't do it anymore. And I looked at my husband at the time then, and I knew how much I was hurting him. I knew how much I was hurting everybody. And I felt like the most selfish and terrible human being,

but I knew it needed to be done. It's like somebody has to call the time of death and I just had to do it. So you made this really difficult decision. It sounds really hard, but I want to fast forward to after your divorce was finalized. Once it was real, how were you doing? It felt like I had possibility again, and that that was a good thing.

That there was joy and excitement and anticipation. And it wasn't even for a different person. When I made the decision to end the marriage, it was never with the idea that I would meet a better person or have a better marriage. It was with the idea that I may be alone and that's okay. Like that is a better place to be than the loneliness of being married in this marriage. And so it was like that just burst open and life could be so many things and that wasn't scary anymore. I am so damn happy for you. I'm sitting here being like, you're smiling, I'm smiling.

The possibility was not scary. It was exciting. It was exciting. And then once I got on the apps, it's interesting because they ask you your marital status on these apps and there's a never married option. One of them didn't have single, I had never married or divorced or widowed, I think was another option. So I had to select divorce, I couldn't put single.

And so it was from the get-go on my profile. It's right there, which, you know, I have mixed feelings about. On the one hand, it filters out anybody who's just not going to be interested in someone who's been divorced. But on the other hand, it's just so reflective of some of the stigma still that that's a filter. Which apps were you using in this sort of post-divorce starting to look around phase? Regardless of my first experience, it was important for me to meet someone who was Muslim. That was just something that I knew was non-negotiable for me and for the marriage I wanted and the lifestyle

I wanted. And so I only went on apps specific to the Muslim community. And so there's two – at that time they were called Minder, like Muslim Tinder, and then Musmatch. It sounds like you were kind of – is it fair to say, kind of passively swiping during this time? Yeah, I think it was a little bit more passive. It was just sort of starting to almost just start to think about the next chapter. I think that's really what it was about. Just what could it look like for me to find someone and be married again?

Did you have a clearer sense of what you wanted? Yeah, I think the biggest thing was just, I wanted to feel a sense of home and belonging and like, this is my person, this is my best friend. And that's what I wanted. I just wanted the person who is going to be my emotional rock. Right. And in order to be that person with whom I'm really emotionally connected,

you know, I definitely also needed, like, that intellectual connection and the ability to just feel like I could freely talk with someone without it feeling so complicated and, you know, just so exhausting, trying to explain everything or get them to understand the emotional aspect of what I'm saying. So it sounds really simple, I think, Anna, but... It doesn't. I don't think it does. I actually really don't think it does. I just feel like so many little things have to line up to have that.

Even though you can distill it down into one phrase, I feel like it's just such an abstract and complex and multilayered need. When did you meet someone you were actually excited about? So I met Mahmood that fall. He trained in the same program as me. He was doing family medicine and I was doing psychiatry. Both of us were at UT Southwestern, so we were both residents at the same time. And he was this tall, handsome tall, dark and handsome, literally. I mean, he is six, two, he has

a full head of dark hair. And one of the earliest memories now that I have of him before I even knew he was Mahmoud, knew he was single or somebody who I would end up married to, I just have this memory of him leading the evening prayer for this community iftar that we had on campus. So it's like you'd seen him around, you knew that he was Muslim because he participated in this group that you were also a part of. I guess clocked him as cute. Like, what was the moment of first, I don't know, like meaningful interaction?

I guess the most meaningful interaction that I remember was we were at this event around like patient bias and discrimination towards physicians. And I just remember he was engaged, like he was reflective and talking about his experiences. And so I just thought it was really interesting that, you know, he was participating and had a lot of insightful things to share. But I still didn't know he was single. Right. Well, how did you figure out if he was? So I would sometimes activate my profile, yeah, deactivate them and just be like, it feels like shopping at Ross. Like you're just rifling. A Muslim Ross.

Yeah. Now you're just like sifting and there's just so much garbage and like, and then you find that one treasure. So anyways, I had not found that one treasure. And so I had logged off and then I'm not sure what prompted me logging back on, but I reactivated my profile and I saw the guy from the discussion. And I was like, what is... Pause down. This is kind of a dream.

You have like a cute person that you see in the world and then you see them on an app. It's like that is the confirmation to know that they're single. Were you nervous to swipe yes? No, I was like, what are you doing on here? Oh, so you matched, okay. You swiped and you matched. I swiped and it was an immediate match, so he had already swiped on me.

Tell me about the first time that you two met up in person. So we went for poke. It's funny, because there's a couple details I remember about that evening too. Like, I was trying to decide between these two bowls and he's like knew right away what he wanted and I'm just taking forever to decide and he's like, okay, you know what, she just wants this. And so... Oh, wait, did you like that or did you not? Because it was...

It can go either way, I know. But the funny thing is even now, I'm always like that with him. I'm almost like, should I do this or this? Do I want this or this? Like, I'm just like, that is just so me. Like, I can just be so indecisive and so overthinking. And he just like moves things along. And then I remember when we were talking, he noticed something on the mural in the background, and we kind of made conversation about that.

And I just remember that detail because there was this, I'm present, I'm present and I'm noticing things and I'm responding to what's happening in my environment. I'm responding to what you're saying. And there was a responsiveness that I really noticed right away and that I really enjoyed right away. Yeah. You had this kind of inability to connect with your first husband, and I know this is early on in your dating, but like, did he ask good questions?

Did he listen? He has this ability when he's listening to you to make you feel like he's really just taking it all in and really it matters to him. Like he's being affected by what you're saying. I mean even the topics we would talk about, they would carry over from one time we met to another or he would remember something that I had mentioned and follow up on it. It just felt like he was excited and curious about life. HOST 1 Hmm.

Did you and Mahmoud discuss marriage? And how did that make you feel? HOST 2 Oh, yeah. He was certain really early on. I mean... HOST 1 How early? HOST 2 I remember him bringing it up, like, six weeks into meeting. He was like, I want to know where this is going

and where your head is at. I think this is one of those things, Anna, where to somebody who's not in our community, that might seem like really forward because again, we're talking about a different construct because for us that's there from the beginning. And so it's like, is this heading in that direction or not? But for me, I didn't feel that right away. It just wasn't as straightforward for me as it was for him. Do you think you were scared to try again?

Oh yeah, for sure. I mean, I would say that was the biggest part of it. I mean, looking back, I don't think there were major reservations. I mean, there was like a couple things about Mahmoud, like he could be a little bit forgetful or, you know, like I remember he left his phone in the fitting room and I was like, oh my God, he's going to leave a kid at the park. Like, I would definitely catastrophize these things. I was like looking for the red

flags, you know? Sure, sure, sure, sure. But I think all of that was fear. I think I was like, I have to be very vigilant of the things that can go wrong because I missed those things the first time and I can't afford to miss them a second time. How did you overcome that fear? I don't even, I think that's what makes it hard

is like I don't know that I overcame it and then decided. I think it was like, I recognized that I would have to live with it. You and Mahmoud decide to get married, but that fear is still there. Yeah, I mean, I remember feeling it right up until I said yes, and then it was like it was gone. It was almost like a weight lifted off. It was like, oh, all that fear about doing it and how am I going to do it? It's too scary to do it again.

And I don't want to do it again because it could go south. And then I was like, I did it. And this is my person. And this is the person that I want every day to have with me. So Simea found her person, their marriage felt strong. But then they're hit with several big challenges, one after another. How they dealt with them after the break. Was married life with Mahmood what you'd hoped for? It was.

I mean, in the sense that, so some months after we got married, COVID happened. It was just such a chaotic and uncertain time, but we had each other. And I remember we would still like go to the beach together and we bought, Sunny, we bought some freshly caught tuna by the coast and made poke at home because things are shut down.

That's like a common theme apparently. Yeah, we really do. So yeah, we made it at home because things are closed and it was such an intimate start to the marriage because everything was shut down and we really had to just hold on to each other. Yeah, I mean, that must have been such an intense time to be working in a hospital. For Mahmoud as a wound care doctor and for you as a psychiatrist,

how did you continue to cultivate your relationship during such a difficult time? It was so simple. I mean, we talk about what it was like, the emotional aspect. We would sit outside, have chai. We would watch movies together. It was, I don't know, I don't know another word to describe it other than just like this simple tranquility. And I know from your modern love essay that you and Mahmoud are parents now.

When did you have your first child? Our daughter was born two years after we got married. And then your second child? Two years after that. And how would you describe Mahmoud as a father? He's just so present with the kids. It's his biggest source of joy. I can just see it in his face when he's with them.

And they are so attached to him. Is there a specific moment that you remember seeing him with the kids and just being struck by that? Soon after our son was born, our older child, our daughter, got sick. And I just remember almost like this dance, this silent dance of like, we knew our roles intuitively and who we are as parents by then. And so Mahmoud just takes Maimouna out of the crib and gets her cleaned up in the bath and he's just super comforting.

Like, it's okay, Baba. He calls her Baba. It's like a visual, I guess, of who we are as parents. So I'm like thinking ahead about like the next time she vomits and getting the clean sheets on and cleaning her levy. And he's like so focused on like her, on my daughter. Like I've got the bird's eye view of everything and then he's got the connection. Yeah. You know, Sameah, I wanna change course just a little bit and talk about something that actually wasn't in your modern love essay.

But when we reached out to you, you told us all about it and I think it's such an important part of your and Mahmoud's story. You told us that not long after you and Mahmoud had your second kid, you both had to make this really big decision and it was around Mahmoud going to volunteer in Gaza. This is right after the October 7th attacks in 2023, and then the retaliatory strikes that Israel made on Gaza afterwards. There was this international call for aid workers

and doctors to come and volunteer and provide care. How did the idea of Mahmoud potentially going to Gaza, how did that first come up between the two of you? He had briefly talked about it in terms of like putting his name on the list of volunteers, but it didn't even seem like something that was tactically happening with all the uncertainty around missions getting in.

This is like in March, so this is the very early missions, and we only knew two doctors who'd gone. It was kind of like, theoretically, they're collecting volunteers for something that may or may not happen. So in my mind, it wasn't like, no, you're not gonna put your name on. In terms of the mechanics, I didn't know that,

what that meant as far as like, is this telehealth? And then I remember the day he got the call that there was a mission going in March, they need a wound care doctor. Wow. And my stomach kind of fell. But also in me, there wasn't like this immediate absolutely not.

I totally empathized with and also felt like this is a call to go, and I could see the merits of going, like in terms of the moral imperative to go. But then there's also the aspect of like, I know the person that I am married to and that I love, and I know their sense of duty and conscientiousness, and also their heart. Mm. Loving this person means loving these aspects about them and supporting their love for others. But then there's also, we have young kids. Right. What is this going to

mean not just for the days he's gone, but for the possibility that he might not come back? How did he explain to you why it was important to him to go? Like, what was the personal imperative for him there? In some ways, I don't even think it needed explaining because, I mean, I was seeing the same things he's seeing. It's like indiscriminate mass violence on social media. You can't ignore that. Mahmoud certainly is somebody, again, with that sense of presence, like he's

reacting to what he's seeing. And me too, I mean, I'm intensely empathetic. When Mahmoud told you he was going to go, can you bring me into that moment how you reacted? It wasn't unilateral like that. We decided together he will go. So I remember one argument that we had around it where I was just like, this is are sacrificed for it. And there was like this anger in that moment. But I understand too that that was also selfishness for me because it's like I want to keep this person for ourselves. But this person has gifts and tools, and those need to be in service of more vulnerable people who need it right now in the immediate. And my part is facilitating that by being the one who stays and by holding down the

fort here so that he can go. And so it was very much a mutual decision. And I mean, it was tough. I was crying. And so there was that anxiety, certainly. But there was also kind of this acceptance. And I think this part really just came from faith. I really had to come to terms, for me, in my faith tradition, that your time to go is

your time to go wherever it is or however it is, but your time is your time. This thing that you love about Him, His commitment, his openness, his humanity, the fact that he feels so deeply, something that is so at the core of your relationship to him, his relationship to your kids, it kind of supersedes you and your family at this point. Like you said that you immediately regretted saying it was selfish, but how did you make sense of that? I don't know if this answers your question, but there's this poem about Leila and Majnun. I don't know if you've heard of it before, but it's like this classic love story. And there's this poem about them.

I pass by these walls, the walls of Leila. I'm going to tear up. It's such a beautiful poem. But I pass by these walls, the walls of Leila, and'm going to tear up. It's such a beautiful poem. But I pass by these walls, the walls of Layla, and I kiss this wall and that wall. Sorry. It's not love of the walls that has taken my heart, but the person who dwells within them. So I think for me, it was loving the thing that Mahmoud loves. And what is that thing that you had to grow to love that he loves too? I think loving humanity, loving service. These circumstances are so dire that this is just what's needed from us in this moment is to think outside of

ourselves and our own nuclear families and to serve community and to serve humanity and I think Mahmoud his ability to be of service in that way it permeates and so it kind of Enabled that too in me. Can you tell me about the day that Mahmoud leaves for Gaza? What was that like? Yeah, that was a hard day.

Yeah. That was a really hard day. There's a moment I remember really distinctly. I was taking pictures of him with the kids, and he took Mahmoud out on the water table in the side yard, and I was taking pictures of them through the window. And I'm terrible at taking photos. He's the one who remembers. His presence, you know, he's like, I gotta capture this moment.

So he's the one that takes the pictures and I always forget. And he was like, are you taking pictures of me because you think I won't come back? Oh. And I said, yeah. Yeah, that's exactly why I'm doing that. We took him to the airport and I remember, you know, he had his bag stacked up and I was like, smile. I just wanted the last picture I took of him to be smiling.

What was your communication like with him while he was away? I didn't know what to expect and it was really spotty. There was very little synchronous communication. So there was WhatsApp, texts, and there was voice notes. And he would send daily updates of the things he saw. Yeah, so there's the airstrikes kind of close by, but I guess it seems like because the biggest one that I felt was a kilometer away so these are probably maybe kilometer and a half. His reaction to the things he saw. But that one they felt like the whole hospital just like was shaking and everything turned off

and it was just a huge huge airstrike so it was kind of um I was just sad about that. And then maybe about an hour later. How was he processing all of this? Well, he will say that it helps that I'm a psychiatrist because I would ask him, sometimes he will just kind of note the observations, but I would be the one asking him the reaction to those or getting into digging deeper into what it was like for him.

And so that would help him process. And yeah, he was writing almost like a kind of a daily journal basically in these WhatsApps to me. How did you explain his absence to your kids? Well, our son was only like four, five months at the time. Wow, so young. They were very little, yeah. And that was really part of my fear was that if he didn't come back, they wouldn't even remember him.

And what a sad legacy that would be. It would be a legacy of absence and just my retelling. And my daughter, I mean, she's super attached to him and she's precociously verbal. We had kind of prepared her, Baba's going on a long trip and we had the number of bedtimes. So every bedtime I would shave off, okay,

now today is 13 bedtimes, today is 12 bedtimes, 11 more bedtimes. And that was sort of how we did it. But she really missed him. Bring me into how it felt to talk to him or to wait to talk to him or to wait for the voice notes. What was that like for you? There was just so much uncertainty. The mind will try to rationalize. The mind will try to say, oh, well, they have their coordinates. They'll be safe.

They're American, they'll be safe. They're not Palestinian, they're not the targets. The mind will try to rationalize. But none of that is truth. The truth is you don't know, you cannot predict. You have no idea what tomorrow will bring. After those two weeks, the two weeks of his mission, were you like, I am never going to let you leave again?

Like this was hard, that's never happening, you are back, I'm keeping you here? No. I knew he would go back. How did you know? Well, there were two missions that he had put his name on. And he was like, well, the reason is because if the first mission doesn't work out, it falls through, and then the second one gets full, then I'm just not going to be able to go at all. And so he put his name on both thinking that, like, the second one was Plan B. But I'm like, I know you. You're committed.

I was like, I'm not going to be the person that tells you you can't go. I'm not going to stop you. I was like, I think that you're the kind of person who honors your commitments. And he sort of saw that as me supporting him again. What was it like the second time he was gone? What happened? The situation had only gotten more dangerous since the first time he went.

Before he left, there was sort of rumblings of a ground invasion in the Rafah. And then a week into his mission, they invaded Rafah. And then once they invaded Rafah, there was no exit. There's no way out of Gaza without Rafa. And this whole time Mahmoud is sending you voice notes updating you on what's happening and what's going on. It's not like a regular ICU where there's one nurse for two patients. It's just a couple nurses for the whole ICU. Then the doctors, the nurses, the volunteers are the only ones taking care of them, but we can't stay by their side 24-7.

You know, his observations were really poignant. You put your efforts into saving someone's life, and you sincerely believe that you would save his life or her life because you've seen it before. But it's like a shock when they die because you have nothing to help them with. What went through your head when you learned that Rafa was being invaded and there was no way out for Mahmoud?

The day Mahmoud told me, we're not leaving on the date that we are supposed to leave it, there's no plan right now for how we are going to leave or when, that was when I was like, oh God, like all the anxieties I'd had the first mission, it was like, okay, now, now we're actually at the point where he really might not come back. Sorry, um, so on Monday they're going to take only two people. I'm sorry. And they're going to take only two people and they put a third name just in case.

But it's only two people for Monday. Mahmoud, I called you and it's not going through. I guess we can just talk over voice notes. I let your mom and dad know they were together. I called your mom. I told them you're not coming on Monday. They're okay, Hamidah. They're doing okay. They're staying strong.

They just, they're, as long as you're okay, Hamla, they're doing okay, they're staying strong. They just, they're, as long as you're safe, they just want you home safely, you know, by whatever means, however long it takes. Sorry, I can't smell. I'm really concerned about how you're feeling. Please tell me how you're feeling. I mean, it's kind of a stupid question. I know you're very upset and sad. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Just tell me, where are you? I'm worried about you as well.

I'm trying to get out as soon as possible. I'm really scared. I'm scared that I don't know what it means that they're trialing and taking two people and they're trying to get through Kerem Crossing. I have no idea what these things mean as far as the possibility of safe passage. I have no idea and I'm afraid. I'm anxious, I'm afraid and I'm frightened. I don't know what to expect. Were you regretting having told him to go again?

No. No. I mean, I had felt so many emotions, both missions, but regret was never one of them. Wow. I will never regret him going. When Mahmoud was safely out of Gaza and on his way home, what was your conversation like when you knew that he was coming home to you? What were you saying to each other?

I remember asking him, you know, what's the first thing you home to you? What were you saying to each other? I remember asking him, you know, what's the first thing you want to do? And he said, I just want to thank you for being so supportive of this, so supportive of me. What did that mean to you that he wanted to thank you? I think it was that feeling of being seen and acknowledged for my part, my role, you know, that it wasn't taken for granted. I think that thank you says a lot.

Yeah, I think so too. The courage for Mahmoud to go is obvious. I think the courage for me to be on board is more understated. And I think he could see that. And that courage comes from love. You know, I want to bring this back just to you and thinking about yourself and who you were when your first marriage ended and that fear and the shame. You know, thinking back on everything that you've been through since then, what would you say to yourself back then?

Hmm. I think I would tell myself to temper fear with hope. Speak more on that. Fear is one way of looking at the future, of evaluating all that could go wrong. But if you let hope in, too, you know, hope can prevail, and the future can be much brighter than fear would have you think.

What would you say to someone who wants to have the kind of deep love that you and Mahmoud have? Don't expect it to be easy. You know, there's so much now, especially around ease and instant gratification. This love does not follow that path. This love is not convenient. So you have to get out of that space of wanting the love that serves you and recognizing that this kind of love is your in service.

Your service builds a love like this. That's really beautifully put. Samea, thank you so much for telling me your story today. Thank you, Anna. by Sarah Curtis and Emily Lang. It was edited by Gianna Palmer and our executive editor, Jen Poyant. Fact-checking by Ena Alvarado. Production management by Christina Josa. The Modern Love theme music is by Dan Powell. Original music in this episode by Alicia Beatu and Rowan Nimisto. This episode was mixed by Daniel Ramirez. Studio support from Maddie Masiello and Nick Pittman. Special thanks to Larissa Anderson,

Behemah Treblani, Jeffrey Miranda, and Paula Schuman. The Modern Love column is edited by Daniel Jones. Mia Lee is the editor of Modern Love Projects. If you want to submit an essay or a tiny love story to the New York Times, we have the instructions in our show notes. I'm Anna Martin. Thanks for listening.

1