Dawud.

Chapter 47: Family Time - Pt.2

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

Dawud's P.O.V

I stepped out of the washroom and looked at my wife. She was hunched over and lost in the journal she gripped with such focus. "Jannah? What are you doing?" I asked.

Her room was painted a beautiful matte shade of lilac purple and had yellow, pink and baby blue accents placed all over the room. A clock, calendar, and dried flowers were the only things decorating her walls. When Jannah told me that her mom never allowed her to grow up, I never understood what she meant. But as I stood there, taking in the pink lace, the furry white carpets, and bunny slippers next to the door, I could grasp what she meant.

Jannah peeled her eyes off the hand-written words with great difficulty and smiled at me. "Come." She waved me over and I sat on her bed. The mattress springs nearly threw me right off.

"Bouncy mattress you've got here," I commented, trying my best to keep a straight face.

Jannah rolled her eyes. "Wipe that smirk off your face, weirdo." She said jokingly. I laughed against her, leaning over her shoulder. I caught my name written on one of the pages bound in the journal.

Jannah gasped and stood up, pressing the book against her chest. "No, no peeking. Let me read it to you." She warned with a finger in the air. I chuckled and raised my hands up in defeat.

"Go on, baby." I encouraged. Jannah paused and hid her face behind the knit sleeves of her sweater.

"Stop being so cute! You're making me nervous. Please, I just want to read this to you." She pleaded.

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry." I rolled my eyes and complied.

"Okay," she said with red cheeks. Jannah cleared her throat, reading the neat writing. "I met a guy at that bookstore downtown yesterday and his name is Dawud. He's like one those guys you find on Instagram with the sick sense of style and beautiful hair. The ones you don't think exist in your city. So beautiful and breathtakingly gorgeous. And he's Muslim. And he works at an Islamic bookstore. I can't stop thinking about him. Every time I supplicate to Allah (swt) I catch my heart silently begging me to add Dawud to the prayer. And when I'm bent down in sajda (prostration), I can't help but ask Allah to give me him. It's ridiculous, I know. I don't even know what type of guy he is! But I can't help but think that he might be the one. I pray that he's the one. Allahuma Ameen (Oh Allah, may it be so)."

My eyes began tearing up. I couldn't help it. That was so beautiful and I was at a loss for words. The only thing I could do was pull Jannah by the strings of her pajama pants into my lap and hug her tightly. "There was a girl that day," I whispered against the crook of her neck, "wearing a scarf that covered half her face and the cutest jacket. I nearly melted. And she was so shy. So, so shy. I fell for the way her eyes lit up when she was excited, the way Salamu'Alaykum sounded as it spilled from her mouth. The way she embarrassed herself constantly." I moved Jannah's curly hair from one side to the other and kissed her neck. "I know I'm not that good at articulating my feelings, but that was my best attempt." I said sheepishly.

Jannah scoffed. "You don't have to say anything. Your actions say enough and that's why you're the best."

"The best?" I repeated.

"The bestest." She answered.

"Ah, I see. The bestest."

"Yup. The bestest in the world." Jannah said with a yawn.

"You're tired, Jannah. You should go to sleep." I chuckled.

She frowned and gripped the hem of my shirt before I could stand up. "You're not sleeping?"

"I might just sleep on the floor. There's not enough room for me on your twin-sized bed, my love." I teased her, twiddling with the white lace curtains hung over the bed frame.

"Dawud, please." She pleaded, now keeping her eyes focused on her hands.

"Well, I can't say no to you now." I sighed, slipping under the covers. "But if you wake up on the floor, don't be surprised." She giggled.

"Kick me off the bed and see what happens to you." Jannah threatened. We both laughed.

And then we went to sleep.

*

The next morning, I woke up to an empty bed. Pressing a hand against the vacant space Jannah had slept in moments ago, I found it to be cold in temperature. I freshened up in the bathroom and made my way downstairs. I could make out the scent of blueberry pancakes rising on the stove. Abdullah was sprawled across the living room floor by himself, waving his phone in the air. I stopped and watched him until he took noticed of me. And boy, it took me a while to catch his eye. I asked him what he was doing.

"I'm trying to find a good signal." He whined. "The wifi here isn't the best."

I chuckled and grabbed his phone. He must've had the impression that I would punch in the wifi password but instead, I put his phone in my pocket. "Family time," I stressed, scolding him with my finger. Abdallah shook his head violently.

"You don't want to go in there, Akhi (my brother). It's chaotic."

I cocked my head to the side and open my mouth to ask what he meant but my question had already been answered the second Mariam dashed into the living room. Her faces was smeared with panic, something I had never seen before. Her eyes moved left and right as she ducked behind her husband. Shortly after, Jannah's mother charged through the doorway with a wooden spoon in hand. My eyes grew wide with shock as I watched the two women play Cat and Mouse around Abdallah.

"Abudi, stop her!" Mariam shouted, as her mother swung and missed, spanking her son-in-law in the butt instead. He shrieked in a surprisingly high-pitched voice which shook my body with laughter. I felt a small hand grab my arm and looked to my left to encounter Jannah bent over clutching her stomach. I leaned forward with worry, not sure if she was okay, but soon found that it was tears of laughter streaming from her eyes. She clapped her hands and threw her head back in delight.

"Mariam, run!" She cheered, ushering her sister behind her. Mariam jumped from Abdallah to Jannah in a matter of seconds. Hasna sped over to my wife and I stepped in front of her with a goofy grin. Hasna stopped abruptly and shook her head sheepishly.

"Dawud, you know I love you. Please, move over my dear son."

I shook my head and was rewarded with a spank on the butt too. All of us had been too busy laughing to defend ourselves from our mother's playful spanking. Jannah received a few swats on the hip, Abdallah on the arm and Mariam everywhere. Hasna quickly bent over and apologized for hurting me. "It was nothing compared to them, Mom. You only hit me once." I reassured her with a smile.

"Once too many, Dawud." She responded. I couldn't help but giggle as the rest of them gawked at our mother's blatant favouritism.

"Why do you like Dawud more than me?" Abdallah glared at Hasna, rubbing his arm in pain.

"Forget that! Why do you like Dawud more than your own two children?" Jannah protested, pointing a finger accusingly.

Our collective mother sighed, watching me with tender eyes. The wooden spoon in her hand was pressed against her cheek as she sighed in admiration. "Who was that boy who grew up in the jungle with monkeys? You girls used to love watching that cartoon movie."

I laughed before she had received an answer. I already knew where this conversation was heading.

"Please don't tell me you're talking about Tarzan." Mariam said, palming her forehead.

"Yes! Him! Dawud is like him. Handsome. Strong. That's why I like him." She said before walking back into the kitchen.

We all looked at one another in silence before breaking into fits of laughter. I loved this family.