Tu Shaheen Hai

leilah [5]

The sunlight trickles in through the window. The lights are turned off, but the curtains have been pulled aside to illuminate the kitchen. When she was younger, Leilah would stand near the streams of light and try to catch the dancing dust particles. Her hands would wrap around them, her imagination convincing her that they were something magical. Fairy dust, perhaps.

But then she received her first tablet and such games were forgotten.

Now, she looks at them again. In the brief moments of waiting where the batter goes into the pan and the bubbles begin to appear; Leilah's gaze lingers on these dust particles, and she wishes she was a writer. Or a poet. She wishes she had a diary too, where she could marvel at the beauty of the sunlight that streaks in; describing it with metaphors that could touch one's heart —

Her mother's bedroom door pulls open. Leilah's gaze flickers towards her as she steps outside, gathering her hair into a bun and stifling a yawn.

Asma freezes when her gaze lands on Leilah. The clear surprise flashes across her eyes and Leilah cannot help the laugh that escapes her lips, "What are you more surprised about? Seeing me cooking something or seeing me awake so early?"

"Both." Asma matches her smile as she peers down at the batter. "Ooh, pancakes! Is it my birthday? Wait- is it your birthday? What's the special occasion?"

"I just felt like it," Leilah counters Asma's surprise with a shrug, piling the pancakes into two separate plates. Even if Asma tries to cover it up or feign casualness, Leilah can see how pleased she is as she hums and sets the table.

Asma fills Leilah in on her schedule for the day; the same as always. Work in the morning; then her visit to the hospital where Leilah's grandmother is admitted —

Leilah's gaze flickers up to her mother. "Mama, what was Nano's second name?"

"Hammad. Same as mine-"

"No, no, before that. Before she married Nana Abbu."

Asma's forehead creases in thought. "Malik, if I recall correctly. Ammi married young and I don't think I've heard her being referred to as anyone but Mrs.Hammad or Sarah Hammad..."

Malik.

The unfamiliarity of the name slumps Leilah's shoulder. "And your grandparents?"

"I've only ever met my Dada and Dado. We lived with them for several years in my childhood. Ammi lost her parents before she got married, and she seldom mentioned them to us."

"But there must be something you know about her past, Mama," Leilah insists.

"It's strange, Leilah, isn't it?" Sadness flickers in Asma's eyes, "Everything I know of her is as my mother; or as my father's wife. I know of how she met Baba, of course. She was nineteen, and enrolled in an academy to prepare for her college entrance exams. Baba had started his first internship there as a teacher's assistant — the two of them fell in love and got married a little later. She never mentioned it, but I think she was staying with her step-father's family at that time. His beliefs were quite different... I don't think he approved of Baba as a match, but Ammi was persistent. She got married against the wishes of her family, and remained cut off from her step father or anyone of her past."

Leilah's back hits the chair as Asma continues, "I might not have known about her step father either if he did not come to visit us once.. I was seven, I think. Baba was gone on an international working trip, and your Mamu and I were home alone with Ammi. Her step-father came to visit her then... but that was the first and last time we saw him."

Leilah's heart pounds in her chest. "Do you remember his name?"

"No. I vaguely remember how he looked — old, grey beard. He brought gifts for us as well, but that is all I remember." Asma pauses, studying Leilah. "What caused this sudden interest in your Nano's life?"

Leilah squirms under the narrowed eyes of her mother. "Nothing," she feigns nonchalance, but Asma is not as easily convinced.

"Nothing-"

Her phone rings from the bedroom. Leilah lets out a relieved breath as her mother rushes to pick up the phone. Just in time.

But her relief is short-lived, the incomplete story of her grandmother echoing in her mind. Her brain is hazy — Nano. A wrinkled face flickers in front of her eyes. Up ahead there are other names. Walid. Mahrosh. Aleena. But if there is a line, it has been erased and Leilah stands at square one.

Who are you, Nano? Why was Mahrosh' diary in your room?

The questions are vivid in her mind, but she knows she would never be able to question her grandmother. Leilah's heart weighs heavy in her chest. Even if she would be able to vocalize the questions, she doubts she would get an answer.

Because her grandmother has Alzheimer's. 

assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuhu

a short update but an early one ^^

about time we delve into the mystery of how leilah's nani had mahrosh' diary. any guesses on who she could be?

dedicated to __Miss_Fantasy__ and musafirmusings. so so blessed to have your support  🤍