Jannah. [SEQUEL TO DAWUD]

Chapter 12 - The Mail Man

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.

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Warsan's P.O.V

I reached the bottom of the stairs and strolled into the kitchen. Hamza, wearing the pajamas that didn't seem to catch up to his unexpected growth spurt hurried over to me with a bottle of water in his hands. 'Could you open this for me?' He asked. I took the bottle and twisted the cap. 'Thanks.' He said quickly, speeding over to my father who sat at the table. They both began to read the newspaper with unwavering attention, heads turning left and right following the text of the page. I leaned forward and noticed that this was a new newspaper and not the same copy my father had been reading for months, intentionally, of course. My father believed that reading the same text over and over again for at least half an hour a day increases your brains memory dramatically. It sounds ridiculous, I know. Hamza also believed it to be crazy, which made me wonder why he was cowered over, matching my dad with such concentration.

Curiosity got the best of me. 'What on God's green earth are you two reading?' I pressed. My father looked up from the paper and sighed.

'Taahir, a very good man, passed away.' He said with a frown.

'Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un (We belong to God and to Him we shall return).' We all said to ourselves.

'He was our mailman, Warsan. For two months he hasn't been dropping by and I just thought he found a new job. It turns out he passed away last week and his son has now started distributing the mail to provide for his family.' My father explained, sliding the newspaper to me.

I picked up the crisp paper and began to read aloud. 'Taahir Mustafah, the man who managed to distribute the Muslim Times Newspaper to an eighth of the city's neighborhoods has recently passed away. After fifteen years of working hard and striving to reach as many houses as possible, Taahir has left us due to sudden death while in prostration during Fajr prayer. Allah knows how beautiful his character and deeds had to be to take his soul in such a blessed moment...' I trailed off, at a loss of words. 'Subhan'Allah.' I said, rubbing my throat. I was in awe.

'Continue reading.' My father encouraged. Hamza started to tear up.

I took a deep breath. 'We have created a GoFund me page to support the family in this difficult time. The eldest son, Uthman Taahir, has accepted the incredibly difficult burden of taking care of his mother and younger brother, Umar.' I read shaking my head. How heartbreaking. I felt my throat tighten and-Wait. I froze, letting the paper fall from my fingers.

'Ya Allah, what is it now?' My mother said as she strolled into the kitchen from behind me.

'Uthman.' I whispered, gulping hard. Uthman from the hospital... from the bookstore. The Uthman who broke his arm?

I dashed up the stairs to my bedroom, passing by a confused and half-awake Junaid. He had drool on his face and looked like a mess. 'Good morning to you too.' I could hear him say as I slammed my door.

I tossed my pillows around frantically as I searched for my cell phone. I heard a thud on the other side of the room and realized that I had thrown it there. Nice. Picking it up, I scanned for scratches that weren't there. 'Alhamdullilah.' I barely muttered before calling Jannah's number. She answered on the first ring, taking me by surprise. 'Jannah? Did you hear-'

'You're so pretty.' I could hear Dawud's voice on the other line. I sighed, rolling my eyes. Honestly, they should just start a fan club for one another.

'Thank you.' Jannah said, her smile spilling through her words. 'Hi Warsan, how are you doing?' She asked me, slightly embarrassed. I knew Jannah too well. She was probably cringing, wishing I never heard that.

'Did you hear about Uthman's father?' I asked her, feeling sick to my stomach.

'Yes.' She said after some time. 'Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un.' She added. 'Dawud and Akhlaaq attended the Janazah (funeral) the day after it happened.'

I frowned. 'Why didn't anyone tell me?' I asked.

My best friend began to stutter. 'W-warsan I didn't know it meant this much to you-'

I closed my eyes and shook my head although she couldn't see me. 'Never mind, it's fine. Really Jannah, don't feel bad okay?' I said before saying my goodbyes.

I didn't bother calling Muna. She texted me earlier today saying that she was at the gym with Akhlaaq. I couldn't help but wonder how that was going...

Muna's P.O.V

I dropped to the floor, knees too weak to support the heavyweights my husband forced me to hold. 'Muna, come on! You can do it!' Akhlaaq encouraged, jumping up and down with energy. I cocked my head to the side and studied him. I genuinely could not comprehend how someone could wake up and start exercising. My stomach begged for food, my mind begged for sleep and my back begged me to stay put on the mat.

'Do you know how heavy those weights are?' I questioned him accusingly.

He held them in his hands, tossing them up with ease. 'Wifey, these are dumbbells and they're literally five pounds each.'

I sat up, wrapping my arms around my knees. 'They get heavier with time, okay? Simple physics.' I exaggerated.

'I'm not sure that's how it works-' I silenced him with a hand in the air. 'Well, that concludes our first gym session. I hope you enjoyed training with the strongest man in the city!' Akhlaaq held up his beefy arm and flexed, kissing the muscles that stuck out.

'Our first and last. Okay?' I said breathlessly as I attempted to stand up. He wrapped an arm around me and drew me up with ease.

'Whatever you say, princess.' We walked out of the empty gym, laughing at how sweaty I was. I enjoyed little moments like this. Just Akhlaaq and I.