Dawud.

Chapter 34: The Irresistible Husband

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

Jannah's P.O.V

I wished that dreams were real. Some say they are the only truth we can experience in the world while others say that the good dreams are purely from God. All I wanted was to relive it again and again and again.

In the dream, Dawud and I had been married for ten years. We had three beautiful children. Two boys and one girl. They were named Muhammad, Ibrahim, and Khadija. I owned a henna boutique downtown, where I did henna for weddings, parties, and venues. I had a team that consisted of five other females and they were as talented, maybe even more talented than I was. Dawud owned his father's bookstore as well as the local mosque downtown. He was an Imam now and he was as handsome as the first day I had met him.

"Jannah, are you awake?" Dawud asked me. It was then that I realized that I was pressed against him with my arms wrapped around his torso. I lifted my head and gasped, untangling myself from him. Dawud chuckled.

"Sorry about that." I whispered, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.

"You were talking in your sleep. What did you dream about?" Dawud asked me with an amused smile. I hid under the covers, embarrassed. "C'mon, Jannah! Tell me, please!" He begged several times. Dawud crawled under the covers too, tickling me each time I protested.

"Okay, okay! I'll tell you!" I cried, squirming away from him. I distanced myself so far, I would have fallen off the bed if Dawud hadn't grabbed my arm. I looked up at him in surprise as he pulled me by the arm, into his own. He kissed my forehead and my nose and then hesitated at my lips. I couldn't help but giggle before given him a soft peck on the lips.

"Habibti," Dawud said, forgetting about my dream, "why are you so darn cute?" He questioned. I admired his messy hair, his droopy eyes and the way he smirked lazily.

"I dunno." I replied simply, shrugging my shoulders.

Dawud chuckled, studying me thoroughly. He raised a hand to poke my chin. "You've got a beauty mark here," he went on, pressing down on the flesh below my lip, "and here," he caressed my cheek, concluding with "and one here too."

I nodded. "You've got a few down your neck as well."

"I've got a few in a lot of places." Dawud smirked mischievously. I shook my head, biting back a smile. "Should I show you?" He asked me, pulling at the hem of his shirt

"Stop it." I groaned, rolling my eyes. He was such a guy.

"Come here." Dawud whispered, patting his legs. I hesitated before remembering that he was my husband. There was no shame in making physical contact now. I plopped myself onto his lap. He traced patterns on my neck with his index finger, watching me intensely. I studied him as well, counting the colors in his eyes; blue, yellow, dark brown and green. A lot of green.

*

The morning went by smoothly. Dawud made breakfast while I unpacked my things. I put the majority of my clothes in his closet, leaving the few remaining garments in my suitcase. We ate breakfast side by side, giggling about nonsense and popping fruits into each other's mouths. When we were finished, I volunteered to do the dishes. As expected, I was refused my right to clean. Dawud, scrubbing dishes and hanging them on the rack, mentioned how he planned on doing the laundry soon and that I should accompany him down to the basement of the apartment building, where the laundry machines were. I grabbed the tall white laundry bin that sat at the foot of the front door and lifted it up. The stench of stinky socks danced around in my nostrils and I cringed. "Put them down, Jannah. It's embarrassing to have you smell my dirty laundry." Dawud pressed.

I dropped the basket bitterly. "I'm your wife! Stop restricting me of my rights." I exaggerated, slipping on a hijab and an abaya. "Plus, I want to get familiar with the building! You can follow me down when you're finished." I suggested as he frowned.

Dawud thought for a moment, rubbing a wet hand through his dark hair. He hung the cloth in his hand on the rack and leaned against the counter, gazing at me. The sun rays coming in through the window gleamed against his face, making him look devilishly handsome and irresistible. I fought the urge to run into his soapy arms. "I don't doubt that you know how to find your way around so, whatever, I'll meet you down there in a bit. It's on the same floor as the underground parking lot. Level B." He told me slowly. I could see the worry plastered on his beautiful face.

"Level B? Alright then, I'll see you in a bit, Insha'Allah." I tried to be as giddy as possible but that seemed to make him even more anxious. "Hey," I called, marching towards him. I closed the distance between us by kissing his cheek, breaking the tension. I walked off, squatting down to pick up the laundry basket as Dawud grinned as obnoxiously. "Salam!" I shouted over my shoulder, closing the door behind me.

The hallway was vacant and the elevator ride to Level B was eerie and peculiar. Something felt off and I didn't know what it was. The elevator doors pulled apart with a wheeze and I encountered the brightly lit laundry room that held various washing machines on one side and multiple drying machines on the other. It wasn't until I put Dawud's laundry in the washing machine that I realized I forgot the detergent. I stomped a foot on the ground, frustrated with my habit of messing things up.

"Are you missing something?" A deep voice asked me. I turned around with a smile, expecting Dawud but gasped when I saw him. He stood in front of me, towering over me in height. He looked at me, startled and began to grin. "I didn't mean to scare you, Miss. My apologies."

My heart sank to my stomach as the bile rose up my throat. The same tan skin, brown eyes, and perfectly straight teeth. His thick hair was short and ended below his ears. He broke my heart and the feeling I felt four years ago on our picnic was how I felt in this moment. Scared.

Despite this, he looked at me with wonder and curiosity. "I'm Rahman. I live on the fourth floor. It's nice to meet you." He said softly. Tears of angst swelled up in my eyes and I sharply turned away.

What kind of game was he playing? How could he not recognize me? Has it really been this long?

"I have extra soap... If... You... Need... It." He hesitated, stepping back. "I didn't mean to cause you any trouble ma'am."

I looked at him once more, deeply this time, and found that his eyebrows were pulled together with worry. Did he even remember me?

"My husband is on his way here right now. He'll probably bring it." I croaked, caving in on myself.

"I could always wait with you—"

"Hello." Dawud greeted him, casually wearing his pajamas. Rahman gave me a strange look and I turned away from him. "I'm the husband." Dawud told him, shaking his hand. I died inside.