Dawud.

Chapter 23: Dad's Lullaby

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

I looked at my father with fury. He shook his head but I was already leaned forward with a thousand arguments in mind. The feminist in me went wild...

Jannah's P.OV

"Allah gave women their rights too!" I pressed. Malik's parents turned away from me as if they'd been offended. "The same way a wife should obey her husband and make him happy, it is mandatory for a husband to provide for his wife and satisfy her needs too." I told them.

"You were created for the pleasure of a man, young lady. It's time you realize that." Lucy snapped.

"I was created to worship Allah. Anything after that is a matter of the dunya. Marriage, having kids, getting an education... all of that. Matters of the dunya. " I told her sharply. "I'm a slave to Allah for before I'm a slave to any man."

"I don't know where you're getting these sickening ideas from." Luqman told me.

I smiled. "The Quran and the Sunnah," I said. "Allah says in Surah Adh-Dhariyat 'And I did not create the jinn and mankind except to worship me'. And the way of the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ. He was kind and caring to his wives. He honored women and gave them rights. Not once did he ever raise a hand to hurt any of his wives. They would do housework and he would help them. He would even cook his own food and sew his own things! Why would I choose your culture over the ways of Prophet Muhammad ﷺ? Your traditions refuse to honor women as they should be honored." I said with a strained voice. "If every young woman you approach for marriage is approached like this, know that it'll be very hard for you to find a spouse for Malik." Looking at Lucy and Luqman, I said, "Remember that you're not the one marrying the woman. Malik is. You're not going to live with her. Malik is." I stood up, said my salam and stomped over to the kitchen. I filled a glass with water and chugged it down. From what I could hear, Malik's family were leaving.

They were slipping on their coats and boots at the doorway when Malik walked into the kitchen alongside my father with a smile. "You did so well, Jannah!" He cheered quietly. "The acting was on point."

I shrugged. "It wasn't a big deal." I realized that, although it wasn't my initial intention, I was playing with someone else's life. To turn a wrong into a right, I flipped the script, telling Malik the truth. Surprisingly enough, he rejoiced, saying that he wasn't ready for marriage anyways. And then I came up with the plan.

My father looked at us with surprise. "What are you two going on about?"

Luqman called for his son at the doorway, causing all of us to jump in fright. His voice was scary. "Long story short, Jannah came up with a plan to put my parents in their place. Now, Insha'Allah, they'll be more open-minded like you, Sultan." Malik said. He shook hands with my father and waved in my direction before rushing to his parents.

Once the door shut, my father looked at me with a strange emotion. I laughed awkwardly. "Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked him.

My father shook his head with a smile and pulled me in for a hug. He hugged me for so long, I almost fell asleep. I pulled away, blinking a few times to stay awake. "Jannah, you're grown." My father whispered. "What more can a father do?"

I stared at him silently.

"You're nineteen yet you know so much. The way you spoke to them... It showed me so much. It showed me enough. Subhan'Allah, you're grown and I can't do anything about it." He said sadly. I grabbed his hand. "It's so hard for me to give you away but I know that you can hold your own. I never wanted you to marry into that family but I assumed you had an interest in Malik." My father chuckled. "Who knew you would kick his whole family out of the house?" He teased me.

I gasped. "Hey! I didn't kick them out! I'm the one that left the room."

My father smiled and sang the song he would sing to me when I was a baby before he left. It showered me with nostalgia, causing tears to roll down my cheeks.

Jannah, my daughter...

Jannah, my baby...

Jannah, the place that we'll meet.

I love you, I do!

I love you, I do!

My love for you is as far as the sea!

Jannah, my child...

Jannah, my pumpkin...

Jannah, the place of serenity.

I love you, I do!

I love you, I do!

May Jannah be the place that we meet!

He sang with a shaky voice. I pulled him in for a tight hug. My heart felt heavy in my chest but I didn't cry. I didn't want to cry because I cry for everything. I had to be strong. After a moment, my father laughed. "Jannah? What are your thoughts on marriage now?" He teased me.

"I definitely want to marry Dawud." I admitted softly.

I felt my dad nod. "Yeah, I want you to."

There was a sudden stillness in the air. "So can I marry him?"

"What? Like, now?" My father asked in disbelief.

"Yes, now. The best thing for two that love one another is marriage." I informed him.

"You love him?"

"I think so."

"Let's get a nikkah done, then."

"Tomorrow?"

"No, not tomorrow."

"After tomorrow?"

"No."

"What about 'Reading Week'? It's in a month. Plus, I won't have classes for that entire week." I'll just be reading and studying."

"Insha'Allah."

*

I'm not one to celebrate holidays like Mother's Day or Father's Day or even Family Day. Every day is mothers, fathers and family day. But I couldn't help but feel lonely since the calendar marked today as the fourteenth of February.

At my university, Valentine's Day was huge. Students would buy roses for their partners and make a huge scene. It was adorable.

I hopped on the bus and couldn't help but fall victim to my imagination. The cunning image of Dawud, strolling up to me with his dark hair falling over his shoulders and a smirk on his face, asking me to be his wife. "A'outhu Billah." I muttered. I was getting carried away.

Dawud and I were in a good place, Alhamdullilah. I didn't meet his parents because I was still traumatized over Malik's but my father arranged for me to meet them in a few weeks.

Qamara was his mother's name. From what my father has told me, she was incredibly smart, talented and well-mannered. She owned my favorite Shawarma Restaurant and she was an astounding cook. She loved her son to the moon and back and always had his name on her tongue.

Muhammad was his father's name. He was a friend of my father's ever since they were in their twenties. He was described to be very withdrawn, reserved, kind and gentle in his speech. My father also told me that Dawud is a reflection of his mother but a spitting image of his father. We'll see about that.

I stepped off the bus and marched into the building that held my locker. I was only meters away from it when I bumped into Warsan and Muna. They were surrounding it with moist eyes. I wriggled past them and gasped.

Chapter Twenty-Four  ->