Dawud.

Chapter 29: The Nikkah

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

Jannah's P.O.V

I walked into the mosque and gasped. My uncle AbdulJabbar stood there in the long hallway next to the refreshments and popped a few grapes in his mouth. "Uncle!" I shouted, causing him to jump. He looked in my direction and smiled brightly. I lifted the bottom of my dress and ran in his direction. Once I was close enough, I jumped in his arms, squeezing his muscular body. It wasn't easy, though. He was too big for my hands to meet behind his back.

"Jannah, Oh how I've missed you!" He whispered.

I pulled away from him and raised an eyebrow. "You haven't visited me in months!" I whined. "You show up to my wedding and now everything is fine? I am disappointed in you, Uncle." I scolded.

Uncle AbdulJabbar and I were ten years apart in age. He was the youngest and my favorite out of my father's siblings. "I'm sorry, but I had work! It's not an easy lifestyle when you're trying to support yourself." He told me.

I nodded solemnly, fighting the urge to accuse him of lying.

My uncle pulled me in for a tight hug one last time before telling me to go inside the room that held my nikkah ceremony. I complied and held a hand out for Mariam who stood behind me. She gave AbdulJabbar an awkward nod and he returned one right back. I frowned.

"Please, Mariam. Not on my wedding day." I whined when he was down the hall. I didn't know what happened between the two of them. All I knew was that AbdulJabbar and my mother had a fallout and that was the reason why he stayed away from us.

My hand stayed in the air, growing cold. "Let's go." She said, ignoring the hand that longed to meet hers. I watched as she turned around and walked away. What was her problem? Why was she having a fit on my wedding day? This was absolutely unacceptable.

"No." I said sternly. It was loud enough for everyone in the hall to hear. Mariam froze. "Come here right now." I hissed, pointing a finger to the floor in front of me. Mariam looked at me with wide eyes and followed my commands. I looked around the room, making intense eye contact with several individuals so that they would look away. They did. Mariam looked hot and bothered as I stared at her. "Stop it." I spat.

She frowned. "How could you hug him?" Mariam pressed.

Laughter bubbled from my lips before I could stop it. "This is my wedding day and he's a guest of mine. Oh, he's also my uncle." I said angrily.

Mariam was silent. "I'm sorry."

"This is not our fight anymore, Mariam. Everyone is old enough to handle their own business and I can't stay away from family on my wedding day because you tell me to. I'm not a child anymore." I said. "Don't catch an attitude today, okay?" I teased.

Mariam rolled her eyes. I knew she didn't like me telling her what to do—she was the oldest after all—but I didn't care. It was my special day and I wouldn't tolerate any negativity. My father's family were in the mosque by the dozens while my mother was alone which meant that the day would play out like a soap opera. I didn't need anyone else's attitude to bring me down. "Okay." She complied. I sighed and held my cold hand outwards. Mariam took it grudgingly and accompanied me into the room.

It was a huge, divided by black curtains into four sections. Dawud, Abdallah, Mariam and my father had managed the setup, venue, guest list, and decor. All I had to do was show up and I was glad. It looked like hard work.

The decorative lights were yellow and white. They hung low, twinkling over those who walked under them. In two separate rooms, tables were covered in a simple white silk and every dazzling white seat had a little gift bag I recognized. They were the 'Sunnah Gift Bags' I had gushed over a year ago when I found the website online. I remember telling my sister about it.

"You're welcome." She whispered with a bright smile. I leaned in to hug her. "Each bag has Attar (perfume), Miswaks and a tiny little Hadith wrapped with a bow."

I sighed. "Thank you."

All of a sudden, the deep and beautiful voice I was so fond of called my name. "Jannah," he said, "we're starting the nikkah."

I felt the butterflies in my stomach explode. Mariam smiled cheerfully and dragged me into one of the rooms divided by a curtain. It was closed off and separated from everything else. In the room, I heard several voices I recognized. Dawud's parents, AbdulJabbar and my father Sultan, and my mother and her close friend Zakiya. I didn't dare to look up. I knew the second I laid eyes on Dawud, I would faint. And so I stood next to my father who stood next to the Imam.

The nikkah began and ended just as quickly. A few signatures here and there, some awkward giggles, a few Islamic reminders, and many, many tears. In half an hour, Dawud was pronounced my husband.

I finally looked up and sucked in a sharp breath. Dawud gasped loud enough for our ears only and I bit back a smile. We were both taken aback by each other's beauty.

Dawud's P.O.V

She was beautiful. She was everything I could ever want and now I could call her mine. Her white silk hijab complimented the brown in her skin and I knew, as she smiled, I knew that I loved her. Her long eyelashes batted up and down and she looked at me shyly. Her bright eyes were filled with so much happiness, making me want to cry. Her irresistible lips pulled into a smile, the lips I've wanted to kiss for months, making it so hard for me to stay in place. I wanted to inhale the beauty of her soul for the rest of eternity and I pray that Allah allows me to do so. Her dress was loose and sparkled against the bright fairy lights above us. She was light.

Jannah's P.O.V

I watched in awe as Dawud took a hold of my hand and raised it to his lips. His kissed my knuckles softly, closing his green eyes in the process. I didn't know I had been crying until my mother pointed it out. I took the wet napkin from her hands and dabbed my cheeks. AbdulJabbar shook his head with a smile. My father turned away as his face swelled up with happiness and Qamara wailed in Muhammad's arms. Mariam leaned against Abdallah's chest, watching Dawud and me with moist eyes and Abdallah clutched her tightly with one arm and gave me a thumbs-up with his free hand. I laughed and so did Dawud. Zakiya, my mother's friend, rubbed my mother's back as she silently wept.

My father pulled open the curtain that blocked us from the wedding guests and revealed an army of twenty people with anxious and hopeful smiles. Muna and Warsan were in the first row. They bounced up and down waiting for the good news.

"We're married." Dawud announced. The men cheered and the women sighed.

And then the wedding ceremony started.