Jannah. [SEQUEL TO DAWUD]

Chapter 35 - Unrecognizable

In the name of God, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful

If the time of prayer has been called and you haven't prayed before reading this, please do so.

***

Jannah's P.O.V

I sighed. Being at my father's house used to be a safe-haven. I could do whatever I wanted and it was the little moments away from my mother that I appreciated the most. But now? It's like everything flipped upside down. My sister Mariam and Abdallah were spending a lot of time together, preparing for their little bundle of joy that would soon enter this world. Insha'Allah, of course. And lately, Dawud has spent so much time working on the weekends. Which has left me alone during my visits here at my father's. I leaned against the fridge as my parents chatted happily with one another by the island across me. My dad gestured for me to stand next to him. I declined his offer respectfully.

'No thanks, Dad.' I replied. As I've grown older and spent more time away from my mother, I've learned that I cannot continue to enable her bad behaviour. I wasn't a little kid anymore. And standing up for myself does not equate to being disrespectful. Plus, having my Dad around has been so helpful in putting my mom in her place. And boy, does that happen often.

'Hasna, see what you've done? You need to stop picking at every single thing Jannah does. We've spoken about this before.' My Dad scolded.

My mother watched me with accusing eyes. 'One day, she'll miss all this nagging. I won't live forever, you know. I'm getting old. Jannah needs to learn some respect.'

My mom speaking about me to someone else right here before my eyes brought me back to how things were before. I couldn't help but feel small... like my old self again. Helpless. Before it had been Mariam defending me from my mother and now it was my father. Some things never change. But one thing that Dawud taught me in dealing with my mother is that at the end of the day, so long as I give my mother her rights, Allah will be happy and content with me. And I shouldn't give people their rights on the condition that they return the favour. Rights are ordained by Allah and rewarded by Allah. So they must be given. And when I go home every night, I have my own life set up and my little world of happiness. My mother and her toxicity are separate from who I've now become as a person. And unless I internalize her words and give them meaning, they're like random letters put together. The things she says can't hurt me unless I give them that power. And I won't.

'Jannah... are you okay?' My Dad asked. I smiled at him.

'I always am.' I said, walking over to him.

He embraced me tightly, leaning forward to whisper in my ear. 'You're my pride and joy, Jannah.'

I inhaled his sweet and musky cologne. My heart swelled up. I was grateful that Allah blessed me with my father. When my mother made me feel suffocated and distraught, my Dad was just like a breath of fresh air. I reached for my jacket and bus-pass. My mother's eyes followed me around the room, watching me sharply. Had I been anything but human, I'd be diced into pieces. Despite my internal protests, I set my pride aside and hugged my mother from behind.

'I have to go get baking supplies! I'll see you two next week, insha'Allah.' I shouted. My dad waved goodbye happily.

As I walked down the front steps, I laughed to myself. 'Ya Allah, please keep my parents smiling forever. Ameen.' I became unrecognizable in comparison to the Jannah I used to be. I was proud of myself.

*

It was now Maghrib. I placed my cake in its white packaging box carefully. 'A box cake!' I cheered excitedly. Dawud watched me through his eyelashes as I took a deep breath. 'That was one of the hardest things I've done. And to make it worse, you were staring at me the whole time!' I groaned, wiping the sweat from my forehead. 'I really shouldn't complain though. You came home early and gifted me with your presence.' I melted, twirling around happily. I was always happy around Dawud. My husband chuckled charmingly.

'You've become an amazing baker. I think your artistic talents are developing, Habibti.' He praised me. The butterflies in my stomach flapped uncontrollably. I smiled. 'Plus, you're incredibly easy on the eyes.' He added. I turned around and reached into my bag for a marker. In reality, I was hiding my face. But he could never know that. I was still incapable of confidently flirting and returning his cunning remarks. Although I tried my best, it was who Dawud mastered the art of sweet-talking me until I couldn't stand it any longer. 'Did you find what you're looking for?' He taunted, getting up.

I spun around quickly, pointing the marker at him defensively. 'Listen here, Dawud. I don't have time for these games! I need to-'

'Need to what?' He said, stepping closer. I gulped.

'I need to get this cake to-'

'To who?' He asked, tugging on my collar.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. 'Why must you do this to me?' I whined with a small smile. He wrapped his long arms around me, absorbing me into his tall frame.

'You need to get this cake to Warsan, which is a very crucial task indeed. And I shall be the one to see the act in fruition.' He formulated my answer for me, squeezing me tighter. I laughed against him.

'You'll drive me?' His arms loosened and I jumped up and down in excitement. 'I thought you had a meeting with Henry Sacks tonight! You know, about the Canadian Annual Book Store Awards.' I looked up at him. He grinned at me.

'I pushed it to tomorrow.' He said. Dawud's green eyes sparkled as he spoke. 'Seeing everyone in pre-marital turmoil makes me appreciate you more.' He joked. I laughed against his chest.

'Don't forget that we were in that position too, Dawud. And we had our share of trials and tribulations disguised under the name Parihan, Ethaar, and Rahman.'

He smiled thoughtfully. 'Don't forget Malik.'

I pushed him away as I tried not to laugh. 'You wish I would.' I teased. Dawud scoffed and his emerald eyes widened in surprise.

'Very bold of you to say, for someone waiting on a ride.' He shot back, biting the inside of his cheek. He did this to stop himself from smiling.

I glared, crossing my arms. 'Well, I think that's very bold of you to say, for someone who was flirting with me a minute ago.'

We stared each other down challengingly before breaking into fits of giggles. I always thanked Allah for my husband. He was the coolness of my eyes.