Dawud.

Chapter 22: Malik's Family

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم
In the name of God, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful

Jannah's P.O.V

"And then I was like, 'You've still got a chance. Fight for it'." I narrated to Muna and Warsan. We were sat in my mother's living room.

The two of them stared at me in awe. "You're kidding!" Muna said in disbelief. I shook my head.

"And then what? What happened after that?" Warsan urged. I told them about Dawud's phone call to my father. "Oh my god!" Warsan squealed, falling against the couch. Muna and I grinned.

"Jannah has men coming for her left, right and center." Muna huffed, holding her chin up with her palm.

"Hey! Don't be jealous. We should get you married to Akhlaaq." I suggested. Muna exploded with enthusiasm but quickly regained herself.

"I don't like him that much." She mumbled. Ever since we were high school students, Muna always sucked at lying.

I ignored her protest and rambled on obnoxiously. "Bookstore cutie meets soon-to-be nurse." I said dramatically. My mother walked into the living room with a tray of cheesecake, plates, and utensils. I immediately stood up to take the tray from her shaky and wrinkled hands. "Thanks, mom. Next time please don't trouble yourself! We can easily walk to the kitchen." I told her softly.

"You're right. Next time do it yourself." My mother said, looking me in the eyes with displeasure. I looked down and grabbed a plate of cake and a fork.

The two of them looked at me with worry. I shrugged. "There is going to come a day where I won't have to deal with her. I just have to excessive patience. Allah will never burden a soul more than it can bear."

Warsan reached over and rubbed my arm. "You always squeeze a reminder in every situation."

Muna smiled and turned her attention back to me. "Okay, let me get this straight. You used Malik to get Dawud jealous, right?"

I choked on my cake.

"What? Did I say something wrong?"

I gestured for Warsan to pass me her water bottle. "No, it's just.." I took a few sips. "It's just that when you say it like that, I sound bad. Here's the thing. Malik doesn't want to get married. He tweeted that his dad is forcing it upon him so when he comes over to my house I know he won't be serious about the whole thing. Then, when he rejects me—because I'm one-hundred percent sure he will—I'll be back on the market." I told them cheerfully.

Warsan looked at me wearily. "And what if he doesn't reject you? What if he's serious about everything and your dad really likes him? What then?"

I thought for a moment. "Uh, I really didn't think this through. Whatever! We'll just see how it goes." I frowned once I saw them share a worried glance. "Guys, quit it."

"Well, Jannah you're being really immature right now. You're playing with Dawud's feelings like he's some toy and you're meeting a guy and his family without having the right intention. This is messed up." Muna said disapprovingly. I looked down, ashamed.

"You're saying that Malik doesn't want to get married yet you're dragging him to your house to get to know you for marriage. How is he supposed to reject you if his dad is forcing marriage upon him?" Warsan pressed. I held my head in my hands.

What mess did I just create?

*

It was Friday morning. I took the train to my father's house and knocked on the door. I was greeted by a nervous Sultan. His hair was groomed and he had on a handsome black thobe. "Wow, dad. You look nice." I teased him. He anxiously pulled me by the wrist into the house and shut the front door quietly. "What's wrong? What happened?" I asked him. I was scared.

"They're here. Malik, his father Luqman and his mother." My father told me frantically. I gasped. "They're in the living room." My father licked his thumbs and rubbed them against my eyebrows. "Sorry, they were out of place."

I cringed and wiped the saliva from my face. "Why are they here? They said they would come after Jummah." I said.

My father sighed and led me over to where they stayed. I was nervous on my way there but because my father was frantic, it eased my nerves a bit. I mean, if the two of us were nervous, how would the meeting turn out? And because Warsan and Muna made me feel terrible about the whole thing, I contacted Malik yesterday and told him the truth. He wasn't too happy about it, but he wasn't mad either. He replied once and we didn't communicate again after that. His only request was that I meet his parents as we had planned, and drive them out of my father's house. Respectfully, of course. Insha'Allah, it goes as planned.

We stepped into the living room and I kept my gaze lowered until I sat down on the couch. 'Assalamu'Alaykum." I greeted them. They said their salams back. Malik was polished and dressed nicely. He wore a gleaming white thobe and neon-pink socks. I raised an eyebrow before fixing my face again.

I know you're not supposed to judge a book by its cover but Luqman, his father, looked so scary. He had a long neck and hollow cheeks. Wrinkles were embedded in his face like cement and his orange beard reached his chest. He had a tasbeeh in one hand and the other hand rested on his knee. I looked at the mother to see her studying me harshly. She had dark and empty eyes. She raised her hand up in my direction and spoke softly to her husband. I knew it wasn't positive because her husband responded in an angry tone. They spoke in their native tongue which left my father and me in a very confused state.

"Sultan, my wife's concern lies with the way your daughter is dressed." Luqman said. He spoke with a deep voice.

I looked down at my plain abaya and patterned hijab, confused. "What is wrong with her clothes?" My father asked calmly.

Lucy spoke again, this time with anger in her voice. Luqman raised his chin up with pride. I was really hoping he would translate what she said. "Her hijab isn't covering her chest." He translated, turning away from me with disgust.

My jaw dropped. "Yes, it is." I defended, looking at my father.

My father sighed. "Jannah, be patient and well-mannered. Don't let them see the worst of you." He told me in our native tongue.

I rolled my eyes. "Dad, I'm fully covered. They're making things up." I responded back in our language.

"We don't mean to cause you trouble. We're here to get to know Jannah." Malik said with a sympathetic look on his face. My dad nodded, gesturing them to proceed with their questions.

"When you get married to Malik, what is the role you have to play as a wife?" Lucy asked me with a sneer plastered across her face.

"I have to be there to love, support and listen to my husband." I responded simply.

The parents looked at me with wide eyes. "What?" Luqman asked me in disbelief.

I took a deep breath, trying to be polite. "If I am wrong, please do correct me." I faked a smile.

Lucy smiled, pleased with my docility. "A wife is there to please her husband and to please her husband only. She must leave her rights at the door when she enters her new home. Her goal every morning and every night is to give him exactly what he wants. What she wants isn't important and has to come in second. That is the recipe for a happy husband which makes a happy marriage." She said proudly.

My eyes widened with shock as I turned to look at my father. He shook his head but I was already leaned forward with a thousand arguments in mind.

Chapter Twenty-Three ->