Deen Queens

eight [layla]

LAYLA

Layla could feel her mother's eyes focused on her with every movement she made, her satin abaya twirling around her feet. Mama had wanted her to stay home and rest, in preparation for her next chemotherapy appointment with her paediatric oncology nurse the following day but she hadn't given it a second thought. Her local mosque had been planning a charity event with dinner included in order to raise money for her homeland – how could she possibly sit at home when she could be out here supporting her people, her Palestine?

The mosque hall was full of women from all walks of life; various skin tones, shapes, ages and sizes all supporting the same cause. The thought warmed her from the inside out. After all, her family had helped the organisers to plan the event and it was nice to see hard work pay off. She had greeted as many people at the entrance for as long as she could possibly stand before her legs giving way – some old familiar faces and some new.

The new Latina woman with the maroon hijab and beautiful little girl was trailing towards one of the hijab stalls, fingers softly stroking the bright fabrics. Asiya, her name was, Layla remembered. It was a beautiful name.

Her mama was greeting Mrs Jarrar with warm hugs and congratulations, complimenting her on the brilliant job her family had done with the event they had organised. She stifled a groan, trying not to look annoyed as Mrs Jarrar waved brightly at her. Whilst she didn't have a problem with the family friend or her daughter, Maria, as such, she wasn't really in the mood to talk to them following what had occurred last week when Becky had come around. Her baba had been terrible that day – although he certainly got a good earful for it from his wife later on.

Somehow in the back of his mind, he thought it would be a brilliant idea if his only son married his best friend's only daughter, the infamous Maria.

Just the thought made her want to vomit. Obviously, they wouldn't be getting married anytime soon considering they were both pretty young but an engagement could be in the near future if she didn't figure out a way to stop it. God knew Mohammad hadn't bothered trying to, despite his reluctance towards the plan. She had tried voicing her uncertainty about the idea but arguing with baba was like arguing with a brick wall. It was evident where both the Hatoum siblings had gotten their stubborn-ness from!

Mohammad was only nineteen, soon to be twenty, and as much as she did love her brother, she also wished she could give him a kick up the bum. He didn't like Maria – complaining she was too giggly, too annoying and far too sensitive for him. But not once had he ever argued with his father, seemingly willing to sacrifice his happiness for the sake of the family he loved more than anything.

Which is why it had been a massive surprise to her when he had gotten so angry at the way her father had glared at his friend over the dinner table. Becky might not have known what was going on but even a blind man could see how tense her father and brother had gotten – as though they were throwing invisible daggers towards each other. She knew baba hadn't been pleased because of how close Mohammad was sitting to Becky, how freely they talked and how much Becky threw insults towards him with a teasing lilt in her voice.

But why had Mohammad gotten so angry?

If they were truly 'just friends' then surely, he wouldn't have allowed her father's grumpiness to mean anything. Whilst her and Mohammad were definitely closer than a lot of siblings, they didn't really talk about relationships, feelings and the like. She didn't want to think bad about him but Layla honestly wasn't sure if he'd had a girlfriend before or not – she knew that he was well aware how haram it was, considering the massive 'no-sex-before-marriage' rule in their family was but rules could easily be broken. It certainly wasn't easy, she thought, to live in a society in which almost everything was hypersexualised and refrain from it.