Jannah. [SEQUEL TO DAWUD]

Chapter 43 - And The Truth Comes Out

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.

*** Long Chapter Alert!!!

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Jannah's P.O.V

I bit my lip as the tears streaked from my eyes. It was inconceivable. I didn't know how to process the information he told me. And from the way his eyes leaked with tears and anguish, I knew that there was no way that he was lying. From the two hours we sat together, I learned so much about the person that Muhammad was. Before this conversation, it bothered me how little I knew of him. His shy and slightly awkward demeanour towards me made it very trivial to get to know him. A mistake that I made was that I expected him to be as outgoing as his son. But all of this happened so soon, and he was gone before I got the chance.

He cleared his throat and turned his face away from me. The veins protruded from the crown of his forehead and although he disliked me seeing him like this, it warmed my heart. It gave me a feeling of relief. He wasn't the bad guy. I always tried to give Dawud's father the benefit of the doubt. It was much easier for me to do that than it was for Dawud. I barely knew him! But at that moment I felt such a wave of happiness. Happy that the truth was out. And happy that he wasn't so bad after all.

The truth was a cursive whirlwind of different tales and stories intertwined and forced into one straight outcome. And I struggled to understand how they would affect Dawud's parents until the very end. But alas, every action has its outcome. And this outcome was one of heartbreak.

Twenty-five years ago, before Dawud and I entered this world, there was the world inhabited by our parents. Back home, Dawud's father Muhammad was in his last year of university and was now an eligible bachelor in his neighbourhood. His parents were extremely strict and cultural. They forced him into studying business, although all he wanted to do was read books at the local library. His favourite genre was poetry. He was a hopeless romantic. Every afternoon, after Dhuhr salah, he would sit in a corner of the library, accompanied by pillars of books. They were the only company he craved. With one exception. At three in the afternoon, every day, right on the dot, in walked a girl. Her name was Aaliyah. She wore a niqab and long abaya. It would trail behind her everywhere she walked. Her eyes were a stunning shade of black that Muhammad had never seen before. Although he never once saw her face, everything about her enchanted him. She would sit at the far end of the library, hidden from all eyes. Just like him, she sat on the floor, accompanied by books. It seemed like that was all she needed. Unlike Muhammad, she didn't crave a life partner. He knew this from his friends who had done him the favour of asking their sisters. Back then, it was a very small world. Everyone knew everything about everyone. And he learned a lot. She was an orphan who grew up with her aunt and uncle. She loved studying Islam and was always giving those in her company reminders about heaven and hellfire. Everything that had left her mouth was sweet with the words of the Quran. They said that she had manners of the Quran. And although he hadn't said a word to her, his heart grew so fond of her, so quick. Aaliyah's aunt was unable to have children, so she was her prized possession. And as for her uncle, he boasted about her to all of those he spoke to. The day that Muhammad graduated, he made the intention to speak to his parents about her. He wanted to approach Aaliyah for marriage by speaking to her uncle. He had it all planned. Once he nervously stepped foot inside his home that evening, his parents, Qamara and her parents all sat in the living room awaiting him. His father pulled him into a tight hug, told him he was to marry Qamara and looked him in the eye with absolute pride. "At this moment, I have never been so proud of you. I know that you will continue to honour me as you have throughout your life in this nikkah (marriage contract). I have gifted you with my choice of a wife. Her name is Qamara. The two of you will have a son, and he will be named after me." His father said to him firmly. Muhammad felt his whole world crash at his feet. He blinked a few times, puzzled. He had never disobeyed his parents in his life. Although his heart broke at the circumstance he was in, he had never once heard his father, who was named Dawud, tell him that he was proud of him. It was those words alone that made him grab a pen the next weekend at the local masjid and sign the contract that would bound him and Qamara for life.

He never stepped foot into the library again. He wouldn't even approach that side of town. He didn't fully give Qamara his heart until they moved here to Canada. How could he give his heart to another woman while Aaliyah breathed the same air? When Qamara had told him she was pregnant, a part of him wanted it to be a daughter. He wanted to name the baby Aaliyah so that she could still be with him, even though they were so far from one another. A part of him didn't want to follow the rules his father gave him. He didn't want a son, nor did he want to name his son after his father. Because then, the baby would be a walking reminder of the heartbreak he couldn't get over. At the ultrasound appointment five months into Qamara's pregnancy, the doctor grabbed her hand and announced they were having a boy. Muhammad covered his face as he wept. He never told Qamara why he was crying, so she mistook those tears as happiness. She cried alongside him cheerfully as she rubbed his back. The day she gave birth, the nurses rushed Muhammad to the front desk, handing him a pen and paper. It was a birth certificate registry. He wrote the name with tears in his eyes. He obeyed his father for the sake of Allah, hoping for absolutely nothing but His reward. And when he returned to the delivery room to see his son for the first time, all those feelings of pain, angst and frustration left his body entirely. The second his eyes fell on Dawud, everything changed. There was a beautiful baby boy, with the same green eyes and plush pink lips. Muhammad's body melted at the sight of his son, who would make him proud with every moment they spent together. He made a vow, to the little ball of life in his hands, that he would be a good father, and would raise him with solid principles and teach him a good character. He would be kind and teach his son kindness. He would follow the sunnah and teach his son to as well. He would be just and teach his son fairness. And there wouldn't be a day where his son would go to bed feeling unloved or lonely.

Muhammad then reached for a date in his bag, softening a small piece in his mouth and rubbing it on the roof of Dawud's mouth. This was a sunnah he made sure to implement (Narrated by al-Bukhaari, 5150; Muslim, 2145). When he looked up at Qamara, she radiated a light he hadn't noticed before. And just like that, by the mercy of Allah, Aaliyah had never crossed his mind until twenty-one years later, when he received a call from a long-lost-friend back home.

That friend told him all the affairs of their neighbours and school friends of the past. He also mentioned that 'the girl Muhammad used to be in love with' was diagnosed with lung cancer. And she was spending her days alone, without her late aunt or uncle. The food she ate was the food people would cook for her. But because she didn't want to burden anyone, she only accepted these meals a few days a week. Only Allah knew what she ate or drank on the days no one brought her anything. She was spending her last few months out of the hospital by her demand. Allah was The Healer, and she wanted Him as her company rather than doctors and nurses. He also learned that she had never married. And Muhammad had hoped, although it was a stretch, that it was because she had waited for him.

For days, he was in turmoil. What could he do? He prayed, constantly asking Allah for guidance. And then one day, he sat Qamara down. He told her wanted to marry someone from back home. He didn't want a divorce - islam allowed a man to marry more than one wife. But before he could further explain, she cried and screamed and said she didn't want to hear anymore. He loved her, more than anything, but his heart would never find rest if he didn't go back home and take care of Aaliyah. She didn't have anyone. He would come right back after she passed away. He just wanted her to pass away with a full belly and a peaceful expression on her face. He just wanted to exchange a few words with her. Spend some time in her company. Even if she never loved him - even if his painful yearning was one-sided, he would still devote some time to making sure that she had a good end. But unfortunately, Qamara refused to listen. And Dawud didn't want to hear a word. So he left without them understanding why.

And now he was back, months later. In a world where Aaliyah didn't exist any longer. He fulfilled his wish, and stayed by her side until her last breathe. Now, he was ready to join his family again. He just wished they could lend him an ear.

I promised that I would do everything in my power to help him. I had to.

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A/N: What do you guys think about the real reason Dawud's father left? Do you think it was fair for him to leave? Or do you think he shouldn't have come back?