Deen Queens

twenty four [layla]

Layla was scheming.

She knew she shouldn't be but the opportunity was too good, she couldn't help it. She was sat around Leena's dining table with the other girls, all digging into the amazing lamb biryani being served. Despite it being a very last-minute lunch date, it seemed everything was going smoothly.

She still couldn't believe that Leena was famous, a household name across the country. But despite all the fame and fortune, she didn't seem to revel in it all too much. Whilst the house was large and beautiful, it certainly wasn't a mansion and Leena held herself with a lot more humility than she imagined other celebrities did.

The girls had begun to talk about lighter topics, once they had all revealed secrets, promising to hold onto them tight. But Layla's mind was still on what Becky had said. Truth be told, she knew it was none of her business. She knew that Becky's search for faith had nothing to do with her and that she had no right trying to force her into Islam.

"There is no compulsion in religion. Verily, the Right path has become distinct from the Wrong path."

Layla knew those words from the second chapter of the Quran by heart but even so, she had an itch to meddle. If she was being completely honest, it wasn't for Becky's sake but rather, for her brother.

She didn't know what was stopping Mohammad from refusing his dads stupid plan about an arranged engagement with Maria, but Layla had wondered if it was because he hadn't realised how much he liked Becky. Boys were so stupid sometimes!

Becky was kind and beautiful and could handle her brothers stupidity; she would be perfect. In fact, Layla couldn't imagine Mohammad with a more perfect fit. There was nobody else that she would welcome into the family as warmly as Becky and there would be nobody else who would be able to help Mohammad after her death. Surely, this was the only answer?

But Becky wasn't Muslim and Layla was guessing that was part of the reason Mohammad wouldn't admit it to himself. Or at least, she hoped so. When Becky had mentioned she was possibly thinking about looking into Islam, Layla was stunned. What had initially seemed so daunting, now seemed in reach. Really all Layla now had to do was gently guide the two of them together. Easy as pie!

—

"Salaam, habibti," her mother's voice rose from the kitchen, as Layla let herself into the small flat, the smell of fresh dough and herbs seeping into the room.

Hearing Leena's harrowing story had really hurt something inside of her, realising that once upon a time her friend had what she had and had lost it. She'd never appreciated her parents more than in that moment and Layla went straight to the kitchen to greet her mama. Asiya had left her family behind, oceans between them, for someone who hadn't been deserving of it at all. And Becky, poor Becky had nothing but a mother who was too wrapped up in the outside world and other people's opinions to acknowledge her children. So really, between the four of them, Layla was the only one lucky enough to have this feeling.

"Asalamu alaykum, mama," she whispered, hugging her from behind, face squashed into her mother's traditional dress.

Nada only laughed, no question about the sudden gesture. "You look so tired, my darling." Concern shone bright in her eyes as she took in Layla's features. "Go lie down for a bit, okay?" Although it was said as a question, she knew she didn't have a choice and so, Layla found herself laying down on the old sofa, propping her head up with a pillow.

Why hadn't she noticed she was so tired? Her body was growing weaker, a fact she couldn't deny, although she wasn't sure if it was the disease progressing or the side effects of the chemotherapy trying to keep it at bay. Her eyes had flickered shut, a smile on her face as she listened to the sounds of the crowded flat where her loved ones lived. She could hear her mother working away in the kitchen and her fathers footsteps along the old floorboards, an indicator he was finally awake after his night shift sleep patterns. She could hear Mohammad talking softly too, on the phone to someone, his voice a familiar hum. Oh how she would miss this!

"Asalamu alaykum, baba." Her father had wandered into the living room, his usually stern face glowing with joy at the sight of his daughter. As strict and tough as he was, he had always had a soft spot for her as the baby of the family. Layla shuffled up, allowing him to sit beside her, one of his hands running through her curls in a rhythm.

"How are you feeling, today?" His voice was soft, concern evident. And although they lived and breathed in the same cramped space day after day, Layla didn't see her baba much these days. Since they had lost a lot of money trialling experimental drugs, both her parents were working harder than ever and sometimes there would be days where she wouldn't see her dad at all due to his work and sleep patterns. It was mainly the reason why she wasn't able to protest anything about his plan for Mohammad's marriage - that alongside the fact that she didn't want to get on his bad side and witness his disappointment.

Ahmad Hatoum had a way of just looking at his children and making them feel like they'd shrunk tenfold; the disappointment weighing them down. His face was so expressive and he, like the rest of the family, felt deeply.

"I'm good, glad exams are finished and the sun is shining. What more can you ask for?" She smiled in contentment, her dads weathered fingers gently twisting her curls.

"Alhamdulillah." He was a man of few words, one who didn't need to voice his feelings; rather, he was able to show them in both face and actions.

"Baba-," Layla began, hesitantly, sitting up suddenly, voice serious. "This whole thing with Mohammad... and Maria, please baba, it's not right. They don't love each other and-."

Her father only shook his head, interrupting her. "Habibti, it's a good idea, it will cement two families. Khalas, it is good for both of us. Love isn't the basis of a marriage; I didn't love your mama when I married her."

Layla wanted to interject but she wasn't sure what to say, wasn't sure if she agreed with his words or not.

"I thought she was beautiful and funny, and I knew that someday I could love her. Love grows with experiences, Layla, as you spend time together and learn about each other. It grows as you grow together."

Mohammad had entered the room by that point, hearing the last few sentences, head lowered. Layla didn't know what her brother thought of it all, didn't even know what she thought of it herself. Whilst the words were true, they were a little biased. Her parents had lived in a different country with a different society and expectations - was it really the same? Whilst Nada and Ahmad were lucky and had really fallen for each other over the years, they could have easily not. And if that was the case, what would be the use of being a family held together because they had to, rather than because they wanted to?

Layla wanted Mohammad to say something, to interject with his thoughts. She wanted him to argue and protest. He had such a big mouth most of the time, spouting rubbish and annoying her with his stupid jokes and unnecessary comments. But now, when she wanted him to say something, he kept silent. Instead, he ignored both father and daughter and went straight to the kitchen to offer his help.

Maybe it wasn't worth trying; the thought made Layla's heart sink but really, why should she get involved if her brother was just going to accept it? Maybe he would be able to love Maria someday, just like her parents. The thought made her feel a little sick but, she had to admit, it wasn't her life. Maybe she needed to butt out and let it be.

She sighed, zoning out as Mohammad set the dining table and their mother laid all the food out: an expression of her love to them all. At least Layla wouldn't be here to see the mess it would undoubtedly leave behind.