Jannah. [SEQUEL TO DAWUD]

Chapter 57: The End (Part 2)

Ten years later.

It's interesting how quickly time goes by. And it's quite humorous how much you think you know about the world at twenty, or twenty-two years old. Sometimes you have plans, and you map them out in extreme detail, but they don't stand a chance against the plans of Allah. We plan, and Allah plans. But Allah is the Best of Planners.

I graduated from university with one of the highest point scores in my faculty, which ended up changing shortly after Warsan got married. I received a BA in Early Childhood Education. And I love it. Dawud and I moved out of our cute apartment six years ago, after we had our first child. A boy. Named Mikael, after the angel. We purchased a small home from a Muslim family who sold it to us without any interest or mortgage. It had a garden in the back and I loved tending to it with the kids. Only a year after Mikael's arrival we had twins, Jibrael and Hayah. They were all the closest of friends. And they took from both mine and Dawud's features so beautifully. The gift of marriage is a beautiful one. Allah pairs you with your soulmate and gives you children, who are an absolute gift and honour. Two lovers merged in one body... or in our case three. Subhan'Allah.

Dawud and I lived humbly, and we made the conscious choice to keep it that way. His bookstore was going so well financially, that we split the profits in four. A fourth to the business, a fourth to bonuses for employees, a fourth to us, and a fourth to needy Muslims in our community. We hoped that this could bring blessings to our lives and cause Allah to love us.

I ran a Quran program with my dear friends Warsan and Muna. It branched off of the initiative our husbands started years ago. The basketball program was now run by Laith and Akhlaaq exclusively and had a long wait-list, Alhamdullilah. But our Quran program was also just as successful. Our mission was to instill the words of Allah into the upcoming generation of strong and intelligent Muslim girls. And year after year we receive amazing stories from our students who graduate from our program and tell us how much it has impacted their lives. All good comes from Allah, we are simply his servants and a means.

My parents were also doing great. They've been travelling a lot for the last two years, going to as many Muslim countries as they can. My sister and I take turns tidying up their empty home.

Speaking of my sister, she is doing amazing! She and Abdallah welcomed three new children to their family after their baby girl Jannah. They had Abdulrahman, Layla, and Sophia. Their son often comes over to our house to play with my boys and Hayah visits them to hang with the girls. They were the cutest.

Muna was doing great. She ended up quitting her nursing job after seven years of hard work, realizing that it challenged her mental health vigorously. Her main focus was to better her relationship with Allah and the Quran instead. She and Warsan were my role models. Akhlaaq and Muna had a baby boy named Yusuf. He had Muna's deep complexion and Akhlaaq's light hair. He was so good-looking, Allahuma Barik.

Warsan and Laith lived pretty close to Dawud and me. They loved staying indoors and studying books on Islam together. After making sure that they had their Islamic foundation firm on the ground, with strong and knowledgeable pillars upholding their household, they were now trying to start a family. May Allah grant them children who will be the coolness of their eyes. I was so proud of how smart and intelligent Warsan grew to be each day.

Today was a warm Sunday in late August. I watched the kids chase one another around the yard happily. A strong hand strokes my back and I lean into it. 'How are you, Habibti?' Dawud asks. I inhaled his musky and light cologne. His voice will always send me into euphoria. I slip my arms around his middle and sigh.

'Happy.' I say. He nods in agreement. 'We've come a long way, don't you think?'

There was a loud cry and we both turn our heads in our kid's direction. Hayah is now crying, gripping her knee as both her brothers lead her over to where we're standing. They are her little protectors. My heart throbs at the sight. Dawud and I bend down to meet their eyes as they all stand in front of us.

'Ummi (My Mother), Hayah fell and hurt herself.' Mikael explains, distress unmistakably exhibited in his eyes. I watch my daughter carefully, controlling my reaction to her wound. If I looked upset or worried, she would cry more. Kids were like that. Dawud beat me to it, asking her how her knee felt.

'It hurts, Abi (My Father) .' She cried. Although there was no wound, she was still in pain, so Dawud cradled her in his arms. They smiled at each other, both sharing those captivating green eyes and freckles. I pull my boys in for a hug, telling them how much I love them. They grin at me, fighting for space on my lap. Their soft curls bounce up and down as they clutch onto me. 'I love you too, Mommy.' They both say in unison. Their hazel eyes meet mine happily.

Alhamdullilah, I whispered. 

The End.

The next chapter is a few closing words from me 🤍