Dawud.

Chapter 33: Clumsy

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

Jannah's P.O.V

"I knew Akhlaaq would tell you!" I shouted. Dawud giggled with a mouth full of his delicious pasta.

"I saw you staring at me. It was so obvious." He taunted me.

"It was the first time I saw you. What did you want me to do? You're like a supermodel." I shook my head at the fork Dawud held up for me. I was too nervous to be hungry.

"Supermodel? I'm flattered." He said flatly, a smirk creeping upon his lips. "You need to eat, habibti." He pleaded.

I melted. "It's okay, really, I'm not hungry anymore." I replied quickly.

"I can hear your stomach wailing from here. C'mon."

Dawud and I had just finished the two raka'ah couples pray on their wedding night. After we prayed, Dawud suggested that we devour the 'outstanding' food he had cooked—his words of course—and go to bed. I admired him wordlessly as he struck my heart with the beauty of his white thobe.

Also, I was scared to go to bed. I didn't know how it would play out. "But then I—" I stopped myself. Dawud would've thought I was a maniac if I said what I wanted to say. "Alright, let's eat." I sighed. He didn't let me get up and pour myself a plate. Rather, he slid his closer towards me so that it rested in the middle of the dining table. It was shockingly delicious. The Alfredo melted in my mouth and the spices and herbs gave it an extra kick. I rolled my eyes back in admiration. It was so good! "I've married a chef." I declared. Dawud's lovely and melodious laugh swept me off my feet, adding to the unshakable state of euphoria I was in.

"Well, my mom does have a shawarma restaurant. I guess cooking well is in my DNA." He joked.

The plate was scraped empty and I snatched it before Dawud could. I knew he wouldn't let me wash it but he wasn't aware that my mom forced me to clean the dishes every other day since I was nine. I was basically a professional. I rushed over to the sink, only to trip on a wet cloth that laid on the floor. It threw me backward, sending me and the plate flying. The shards from the shattered plate stabbed my knee. There was so much blood.

Dawud rushed over to me, asking if I was okay. I winced. "Jannah, why did you run? I would've let you wash that dish!" He said frantically. I was taken aback by the amount of worry in his voice but soon forgot when he looked me in the eyes. "I'll take out the glass but it'll hurt." He said with a shaky voice. I leaned back and moaned in pain when the skin on my knee moved with me. "Jannah, you have to be still." He said sternly. I nodded my head and laid on the floor.

My knee was on fire. It was as though I was stabbed with a knife. Alhamdullilah, I'd never experienced that feeling but I'm sure if I had, it would feel like this. Dawud left to the washroom to get a first aid kit. When he returned, he positioned himself to my right, with a pair of... Tweezers? I blinked a few times, allowing the tears to trickle down my face. It really hurt when he pulled the glass out. It felt like forever as he set each shard on a stray piece of tissue next to my arm. When he was finished, he soaked a napkin with strongly scented rubbing alcohol and dabbed it repetitively against the wound. I covered my mouth, reaching desperately for his arm as the liquid stung my flesh.

"Jannah, you're okay." He whispered softly, dabbing the wound some more. I whimpered, throwing my hands over my face in embarrassment.

"I'm such a mess." I cried, shaking my head. Dawud sighed as he wrapped my knee with some gauze. He then kept it in place with a silver pin and leaned forward to kiss my forehead.

"You're my mess." He assured me, before kissing my lips. I relished in the moment and flushed when he pulled away. "Let's get you to bed." He said, lifting me up. One arm was behind my back while the other supported the back of my knees. I grabbed a hold of his shirt and leaned against his chest. He smelt like cologne from heaven.

Dawud tucked me into bed and walked out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. He brushed his teeth, I assumed, took a shower and returned back. "I missed you." I said stupidly, regretting it the second it left my mouth.

He slipped into bed next to me and pinched my nose playfully. "I missed you too." I felt his cold, large hand make its way to my middle. He slid in closer to me, removing the space between us. My heart was fluttering like crazy and he felt every single beat. We were so close I could feel his cool breath fanning over my face.

"Sorry. I ruined our wedding night." I whispered. I didn't know where to put my hands because they were spread over his chest and so I lowered them. They made contact with his lower torso and I felt his protruding abdominal muscles. I exhaled sharply and pulled my hand away as my cheeks burned uncontrollably. 

"You made it eventful. That's something not everyone can do." He returned simply. "Plus, you didn't ruin it. We'll have several other wedding nights together, Insha'Allah."

I flushed.

"You're so beautiful." He whispered, stroking my temple. "You're so soft, so delicate." Dawud spoke breathlessly. I bit my lip and focused on the freckles spread out across the high points of his cheeks and his nose. "Let's go to sleep." He suggested.

I sighed a breath of relief. A huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. "Goodnight, Dawud."

"Goodnight, Jannah."

The two of us turned away from each other. I could hear him reciting Surah Al Mulk to himself as I did, and the last three chapters of the Quran, as I did and then Ayat'ul Kursi, as I did. We then finished off the night by whispering "Allahuma Bismika Amutoo wa Ahya (Oh Allah, in your Name I die and live)."