Jannah. [SEQUEL TO DAWUD]

Chapter 45 - Not a Fairytale

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.

Note: I'm so sorry for the disappearance! I got married :) Please keep me in your duat! Now, onto the chapter...

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Dawud's P.O.V

Jannah sat across me waiting anxiously. She bit her nails as I ate my chicken sandwich mindlessly. 'So?' She asked. I grinned, looking past her. 'Dawud, you can't keep me waiting like this!' Her arm stretched out over the table and made contact with mine, refusing to let me take another bite. Jannah's bright brown eyes were sparkling, contrasting against her deep frown. I couldn't fight against her any longer.

'Okay, okay! I'll tell you.' I sighed, smiling gleefully. She was so cute. But unfortunately, her excitement would disappear after just one sentence. I think that was another reason why I stretched out the anticipation for as long as I could. I guess a part of me wanted to feel like there was more to the story... like there was a happy ending. Jannah sat there, watching me suspiciously. 'Nothing happened.' I muttered. She cocked her head to the side, perplexed. I tried to explain further. 'I-I mean... he told my mom the truth. She heard it.' I blabbed again. The sunlight was overflowing into the living room as it set and I focused my eyes on the small pillow peeking out from the corner of the couch. The pillow was a gift from my mom. In all honesty, I wanted to look at anything but Jannah's face right now. I didn't want to get emotional. This week felt like a thousand years. It was so quiet in the small space between us. The silence pushed me to fill the air with sound. It was quite unbearable. 'She heard it and...'

'It didn't change her mind.' Jannah concluded for me. I looked up, surprised. Her tone was relaxed, almost expectant. It wasn't upset or disappointing. It was levelled. I think I was scared to see her reaction. If she got emotional, it would make the feelings I was bottling up plummet further into my spirit. The two of us couldn't be an emotional wreck. At least it felt that way. I studied her carefully. Her eyes scanned my face warmly as she smiled very subtly. The air was filled with the sudden noise of her chair grating against the cold tiles below us. She took a few light steps towards me and sat on my lap. I rubbed her back as her arms slid over my shoulders and around my neck. Her hands met as they wrapped me around her warm frame. 'That's okay, Dawdie.' She said softly, cradling me against her. 'How do you feel about that?' She asked me, rocking back and forth. I rested my head in the crook of her neck and sighed deeply. I didn't even realize I was holding my breath. She always made me feel so at ease, ‏Alhamdullilah. When she wasn't forcing me to confront my problems, of course. I smiled.

'I feel a bit hurt. I guess a part of me always wanted my parents to get back together as yours did. Unfortunately, life isn't a fairytale. If only....' I trailed off, hiding my face. I was glad she couldn't see me. It was ridiculously challenging for me, as a man, to open up. But I was trying.

'I understand how you feel. Let's remember that Allah is the best of planners, my love.' She whispered to me.

I hugged her even tighter than before. It felt nice to have my feelings validated. 'That He is, Jannah. I love you.' She laughed joyously against me.

'I love you too, Dawdie.'

Warsan's P.O.V

I locked the store entrance behind me with a sigh. Another winter day. Another closing shift. And another day with very little human interaction. The air was surprisingly still. The snow fell from the sky in a soft and slow motion. I stood in the center of the sidewalk, warm and cozy in my thick coat and boots, looking up at the darkening canopy. The night cloaked the sky, casting away the sun until tomorrow. Allah's creation never failed to amaze me. Snow absorbs sound, and on days when the streets are already fairly quiet, the air was silenced completely. Winter was always my favorite season. The cold weather called for extra layers, and in all honesty – it was a hijabi's dream. Now everyone was covered and layered and dressed like us! I chuckled to myself. The streets were empty, which meant that on this Sunday evening, it would be extremely difficult to get ahold of a bus – let alone a taxi. I made it to the bus stop and pulled out my phone. The next bus was going to arrive in an hour. An hour? My fingers moved quickly as I dialed Junaid's number. He answered after a few calls. So typical.

'Assalamu'alaykum, my only sister.' He said formally. I sighed, mentally preparing myself for the headache and mental strain that was ever-present when it came to dealing with my brothers.

'Wa alaykum salam, Junaid. Listen, I need you to come and pick me up.' I got straight to the point. 'I just worked an eight-hour shift, It's cold and the bus isn't coming for another hour.'

There was a strange silence. Junaid never took the time to think before he spoke. 'Are you sure you want me to come and pick you up?' He asked.

'Obviously! Please, hurry. I don't want to be late for Maghrib.'

He said okay, before mumbling something in a strange tone and ending the call. From what I could gather, it sounded like "Don't plain when I get there." I cocked my head in confusion. Don't... plain... when I get there? Plain? Complain?

Don't complain when I get there? Oh no. What did I get myself into?

I tried to distract my mind, turning my attention to a storefront instead. It was a plant shop. If I was walking down the street with my two best friends, I knew wholeheartedly that Muna and Jannah would've dragged me into that store to window shop. And secretly I would've enjoyed it. I had a strange way of showing and expressing my feelings. I never really noticed it until I compared myself to others. I didn't really think like others or act like others. I liked to be alone but I also liked to spend time with people. I even liked spending time with Junaid, as funny as that sounds. I scoffed, kicking a ball of snow into the street.

Junaid has been strangely proactive in convincing me that Laith is a great guy. And slowly, I've started to believe it. But very few people realize that I can think he's a nice guy and still not like him. He could come over for dinner a trillion times for all I care. It wouldn't change my mind. I don't think people are used to strong-willed women. And that's okay. I didn't really mind being the trailblazer for this very tiny but mighty cause; the cause of marrying who I want.

Across the street was an elderly couple, wrapped so tightly in their winter garments that I couldn't even see their faces. I saw the bend in their stature paired with the canes they gripped tightly and knew that they lived on this planet much longer than I have. They held onto one another with their free arms and marched on, battling the icy and slippy sidewalks. My heart ached a bit. For some time, I got carried away with my imagination and used to picture Uthman and me getting old together. That little phase felt like ages ago. I made sure to evade every thought of him from my mind. And it worked. All I ever really felt were the pangs of rejection and hurt. They came and went like a harsh wind. But that was all. Alhamdullilah, I thought. Allah made the affair light in my chest. It used to wrack the tears from my eyes. I don't even think Uthman knew what he wanted. I hope that one day he will find what he's looking for in life.

As for myself, I put my trust in Allah and hoped for the best. May Allah give me what is good for me and protect me from evil, I prayed.

As if on cue, my brother's car made a slow turn onto the street. I waved at him, getting his attention. 'Right here!' I called out. He turned away and said something to his right. I followed his eyes and found Laith in the passenger's seat. I blinked a few times, sure that I was hallucinating. The car got closer to me and I sighed. If you don't have a crush on him, it shouldn't matter, the voice in my head pressed. I nodded in agreement.

It shouldn't matter, I repeated.