FIFTEEN

When Hâroon woke up for Dhuhr, he accompanied his father, Ayyûb, and Badr to the masjid, where they met up with Ya’qoob. His brother was exuberant and joyful. There was no sign of the pain and struggle he’d detected in him when he’d visited last year, making him wonder if the issue between Ya’qoob and Noorah, whatever it had been, was resolved. The presence of the other men prevented him from asking. 

After prayer, Hâroon returned to the Elm Creek main house with his father and grandfathers. Then, while his mother ate with her mother, mother-in-law, and the children in the kitchen, Hâroon and Yahyâ ate in the dining room with Ayyûb and Badr.

Shortly after ’Asr, Ya’qoob came over. “Noorah’s mother chased me out of my own apartment,” he complained, throwing himself on the couch. “She said women are going to start coming over to see Noorah and the baby. Can’t a husband have some privacy with his wife and newborn child? They can come to the ’aqeeqah if they want to see them that much.”

Ayyûb cackled. “Sorry to burst your bubble, boy, but women are probably going to be pouring into your place for at least the next week.”

Ya’qoob groaned. “That’s not fair. It’s my place. Don’t I have any say in who, when, and how many visit? They’re probably going to tire out Noorah. She’s not a social person.”

“Alternatively, she can go stay at her parents until the visits stop,” Ayyûb said with a knowing smile, obviously realizing Ya’qoob would not stand for having his beloved wife away from him any longer than necessary. “I hear that’s what they do in Middle Eastern countries. The mother and her new baby spends the forty days after birth in her mother’s house. Then her parents can deal with all those women instead of you.”

Ya’qoob looked horrified. “Absolutely not,” he said. “My wife and daughter are staying where they are.”

Ayyûb and Badr exchanged a glance and laughed.

Ya’qoob frowned at them.

Not long after Ya’qoob’s arrival, ’Alîyâ left with Firdaws and Jannah to see Noorah as well.

“Make sure the visitors don’t overwhelm her or tire her,” Ya’qoob said as he followed them to the door. “Noorah doesn’t like having lots of people around.”

“Don’t worry,” ’Alîyâ consoled him. “I’m sure her mother’s seeing to that, but I will, too.”

After the women were gone, the men were left with just each other and Hâroon’s children for company. Ya’qoob helped Yusrâ build a tower in a corner of the den; Yahyâ and Badr engaged in a conversation about the farm; and Ayyûb, tried to encourage Ibrâhîm to say “car” while he was playing with his favorite battery-operated toy car. It wasn’t working, but Hâroon admired his maternal grandfather’s patience.

“What are the doctors saying?” Ayyûb finally asked him.

“Not much,” he admitted. “I haven’t met a single one who can figure out what’s wrong with him or why he stopped talking.”

Ayyûb sighed. “May Allâh help you and heal him.”

“Ameen.”

“Boys, we’ll need to cook dinner,” Yahyâ said, obviously addressing him and Ya’qoob, though neither of them were boys anymore. “I don’t think your mother is coming back anytime soon.”

Hâroon nodded and stood. Ya’qoob followed suit.

“You’ll be eating with us, right, Dad, Uncle Ayyûb?” Yahyâ asked the two older men.

They both voiced their agreement.

“We’ll watch the kids,” Badr offered.

“Call us if they become a challenge,” Hâroon told him. Neither of his grandfathers needed to be chasing Ibrâhîm around, especially not Ayyûb, who was already in his eighties.

Ayyûb waved him away. “We’ll be fine.”

Hâroon wasn’t so sure, but he could always return and check once in a while to make sure the children weren’t overtaxing them. He didn’t worry about Yusrâ, who could easily be convinced to stay in one place or engage in a quiet activity; it was Ibrâhîm who would most likely tire them.

He joined his brother and father in the kitchen. Yahyâ was looking in the freezer, while Ya’qoob peered in the refrigerator.

“Maybe we can make a pasta casserole,” Yahyâ said. “We have ground beef. Is there any pasta sauce, Ya’qoob?”

“Yup, and mozzarella, too.”

“Good. Hâroon, check the pantry. I think we still have some bags of macaroni.”

Hâroon opened the pantry door and swept the shelves with his eyes before finding the pasta. “There are four bags left.”

“Get me two. We know your brother is going to eat at least two people’s worth.”

“Hey!” Ya’qoob protested.

Laughing, Hâroon took two bags off the shelves. He also brought out the spices his mother used for her pasta dishes, setting everything on the counter.

Yahyâ put a package of ground beef in the microwave on defrost, and Ya’qoob took out two jars of pasta sauce from the refrigerator as well as the bag of shredded mozzarella.

“Cut an onion, Ya’qoob,” Yahyâ instructed as he removed two pots from the cabinet under the sink.

“Why me?” Ya’qoob asked. “Can’t Hâroon do it?”

“Hâroon, grate some garlic,” their father said, ignoring Ya’qoob’s protest. He always seemed to know when to ignore Ya’qoob and when to rebuke him. He picked his battles wisely.

In the midst of the pasta being boiled and the beef being cooked, Hâroon managed to slip away to check on how Badr and Ayyûb were managing with the children. When he looked in the room, Yusrâ was rocking her doll and humming to it while seated on the armchair, and Ibrâhîm was jumping on the couch while Badr and Ayyûb looked on from the loveseat.

“Do you think we should make him stop?” Ayyûb asked.

Badr shrugged. “He’s not hurting anyone.”

“He’s too small to break the furniture,” Ayyûb added with a nod.

“Jannah would try to make him get down though,” Badr said contemplatively.

“So would Firdaws,” Ayyûb murmured. “She didn’t like it when ’Alîyâ jumped on the furniture.”

“They’re not here though.”

Ayyûb grinned. “No, they’re not.”

Hiding a smile, Hâroon returned to the kitchen.

“How are Dad and Uncle Ayyûb managing the kids?” Yahyâ asked.

Hâroon grinned. “They’re letting Ibrâhîm jump on the sofa.”

Yahyâ laughed. “Mom and Aunt Firdaws would have a fit when they caught them letting the kids do that, but they still do it.”

“Can I go jump on the sofa, too?” Ya’qoob asked from where he stood at the stove, supervising the beef and sauce.

“If you want your mother to have a fit when you break it and are prepared to buy us a new furniture set when you do.”

Ya’qoob sighed. “Being an adult is no fun. I’m too big to do anything I liked to do before.”

Hâroon grinned. “Whoever told you it would be fun?”

“Well, at least I got to marry Noorah,” Ya’qoob said. “And she gave me a cute playmate, too.”

Hâroon and Yahyâ exchanged a look.

“First time I’ve heard a father call his newborn child his playmate,” Yahyâ remarked.

Hâroon shrugged. “It is Ya’qoob after all.”

Yahyâ nodded. “Right. That makes sense.”

Ya’qoob ignored them.

About an hour later, Yahyâ removed a baking pan of mozzarella topped pasta from the oven and placed it on the counter. After Ya’qoob and Hâroon set the table with plates, silverware, cups, and the pitcher of lemonade, the baking pan was taken to the table and placed in the center, where it could be reached by everyone.

Hâroon went to the den to collect the children and inform the older men that dinner was ready. When he entered, Yusrâ was looking at a storybook, while Badr and Ayyûb were doing a bad job of controlling Ibrâhîm; he was throwing the blocks Yusrâ had been playing with earlier at the wall, and Badr and Ayyûb had actually joined him.

“That completely undermines my goal to teach him not to do that,” Hâroon commented.

The men turned and greeted him with guilty grins.

“He wouldn’t stop,” Badr started.

“So we thought we’d just join him,” Ayyûb finished.

They’re as bad as Ya’qoob. Shaking his head in resigned amusement, Hâroon waved a hand toward the exit of the room. “Dinner is on the table.”

“Do you need any help with the kids?” Badr asked.

Hâroon shook his head. “I can manage. Go ahead.”

Both men set aside the blocks in their hands, stood, and left the room. When they were gone, Hâroon pulled Ibrâhîm away from his activity, hoping there were no marks left on the wall that his mother would notice, called Yusrâ to him, and then herded the children to the bathroom to wash.

When they entered the dining room, everyone was seated and Yahyâ had set up the booster seats for the twins. Hâroon had his reservations about letting Ibrâhîm eat in the same room as Badr and Ayyûb, but it couldn’t be helped, so he got him into his chair, while Ya’qoob got Yusrâ into hers without being asked.

The meal went just as expected. Ibrâhîm threw and made a mess with his dinner more than he ate it. Thankfully, both Badr and Ayyûb took it in stride. They didn’t voice any comments or complaints, and Hâroon felt more at ease about the situation. Then, when dinner was over, Ya’qoob helped him clean up the children before escorting them back to the den.

🌾

The next few days were exactly as Ayyûb had warned Ya’qoob. Women from the community poured into his apartment to visit Noorah and the new baby, and he spent a lot of the time at the farmhouse with Hâroon and the twins complaining about the visitors and whining that he didn’t want to share Noorah and Khadîjah with so many people. During those long days, ’Alîyâ spent most of her time away from the house, which meant Yahyâ, Hâroon, and Ya’qoob were doing most of the cooking.

“I miss Noorah’s cooking,” Ya’qoob complained over a meal of chicken and gravy with mashed potatoes.

“I hope you don’t expect a woman who just gave birth to cook for you,” Yahyâ said. “Her body is still adjusting and she’s probably exhausted.”

Ya’qoob huffed. “What do you take me for? Of course I haven’t asked her to cook. But I can still miss her cooking.”

Hâroon and Yahyâ exchanged a smile.

While ’Alîyâ was making the effort to help Noorah and her mother with their visitors, Ya’qoob, Yahyâ, and Hâroon made the plans for the ’aqeeqah. They chose the sheep they would sacrifice from their livestock and invited the men of the family, friends, and community. They made arrangements for the men’s side to take place at the farmhouse and the women’s at Noorah’s childhood home.

On the morning of the ’aqeeqah, Ya’qoob sacrificed the sheep. The meat was portioned and distributed through the community. The portion kept for the family was divided for the men’s side and women’s side of the celebration. Yahyâ, Hâroon, and Ya’qoob spiced and grilled their meat to serve to their guests with sides of mashed potatoes and green beans.

With the number of men attending, many of them ate outside, sitting on the porch, patio, or grass. Only the older men who needed back support, like Badr and Ayyûb, used the furniture or dining table. Hâroon and Ya’qoob both ate outside, surrounded by their cousins and a few friends Ya’qoob had invited as well.

“You remember Jacob, don’t you?” Ya’qoob asked as he pointed out a familiar young man with golden-brown hair and blue eyes.

“The one you went to high school with,” Hâroon said, recalling the quiet boy who had constantly shadowed Ya’qoob.

Ya’qoob nodded.

Jacob seemed as quiet in his twenties as he’d been in his teens. He greeted Hâroon but didn’t say much else, mostly hovering by Ya’qoob or Dawood. The louder the men became, the more fidgety Jacob was. Ibrâhîm seemed to share Jacob’s discomfort. The crowd and noise had him covering his ears and rocking back and forth.

“Want to go somewhere more quiet, Jake?” Ya’qoob asked his friend.

Jacob nodded, and Hâroon decided Ibrâhîm needed some quiet and space, too. So as Ya’qoob and Dawood set off with Jacob, Hâroon followed with the twins.

Once they were away from the large crowd of men, Jacob became more relaxed. They stopped at a corral of horses, and he leaned against the fence watching them as Ya’qoob and Dawood poked fun at each other like they always did.

Ibrâhîm seemed to settle, too. He uncovered his ears and started looking around. His sister climbed up the fence to get a better look at the horses.

“They’re so pretty, Daddy.”

He smiled. “They are.”

🌾

That evening, after all the guests were gone, ’Alîyâ returned with Noorah and Khadîjah in tow. As they joined him, Ya’qoob, Yahyâ, and the twins in the den, Ya’qoob stood up. He seated his wife on the loveseat before sitting next to her and taking the baby.

Yusrâ wandered over and peered into the baby’s face. “What’s her name, Uncle Qoobie?”

“Khadîjah,” he told her.

Yusrâ smiled. “She’s pretty.”

He smiled. “Thank you, Princess.”

Hâroon watched Ya’qoob with his wife and new daughter for a while. What he saw confirmed what he’d noticed when he first arrived. The painful tension that had seemed to be a part of Ya’qoob’s marriage for sometime had completely dissipated. In the way Ya’qoob looked at Noorah, and her relaxed demeanour around him, he knew they had passed the hurdle that had made their marriage difficult at first. He no longer had to worry about his brother anymore.

“It seems like you and Noorah are okay now,” he said quietly to his brother as the couple were getting ready to leave, while Noorah was putting Khadîjah in the car seat in the backseat of Ya’qoob’s car.

Ya’qoob nodded. “We’re better than okay,” he said with a smile. He patted Hâroon’s shoulder. “Thanks for worrying about us, but you don’t need to worry anymore. We worked out our issues between ourselves. We’ll be fine.”

Hâroon smiled. “Alhamdulillâh.”

“When will you be heading back?” Ya’qoob asked.

Hâroon sighed. “Tonight. I’ve been away long enough.” And haven’t been able to get in contact with Lila, he added silently. He didn’t worry this time. She always went to stay with a friend when he was gone and never bothered to contact him. But it was still frustrating.

Ya’qoob nodded his acceptance. “Come back and visit soon.”

“I will.”

Ya’qoob got in the car with his wife. With a wave, he reversed and drove away.

Hâroon watched until the car completely disappeared. Then he went inside to get the twins ready for their trip back home.

With his mother’s help, he soon had the children changed and everything packed. After Ibrâhîm and Yusrâ were secured into their car seats, he said his goodbyes to his parents.

“Visit soon,” his mother said as she hugged him.

“Keep in touch,” his father added.

Hâroon promised to do both, hugged them goodbye, gave his salâm, and then finally got into the car.

“I don’t want to go,” Yusrâ said plaintively. “It’s more fun here than at home, and Grandma, Grandpa, and Uncle Qoobie are here.”

I don’t want to go either, Hâroon silently agreed. Aloud, he said, “I’m sorry, hon, but we have to go home. I have to go to work. We’ll come visit soon.”

Yusrâ sighed. “Okay.”

Hâroon buckled himself in, reversed the car, and drove away. Even after passing through the open gates, he watched Elm Creek through his rear-view mirror until his childhood home completely disappeared from sight. Then he set his sight forward, preparing for the long drive home.

After a full night of driving, he pulled up in front of the garage at past ten. By then, the children had woken from their slumber on the road, and Ibrâhîm was whining to be freed from his car seat. Hâroon got out to unlock the garage’s padlock, and then opened it with his remote before driving through.

When Hâroon got himself, the bags, and the children inside, he didn’t see any sign of Lila. He didn’t allow himself to be bothered by it for now. Instead, he focused on feeding the twins their breakfast, getting them bathed, and changed, and then finding something they could play in his room, while he took a much-needed nap. It wouldn’t be as restful as it had at Elm Creek, but he had little choice since Lila wasn’t around to watch the kids and Serenity was gone.

His short nap was as restless as he’d known it would be. Even when he managed to drift off, he was woken by Ibrahim getting into something or Yusrâ scolding her brother. A deep, restful sleep was impossible.

When he got up for Dhuhr a few hours later, his room was a mess but Ibrâhîm hadn’t irreversibly destroyed anything, just pulled them down or thrown them around the room.

“Ibby made a big mess,” Yusrâ informed him from where she sat at his desk drawing on a piece of paper.

Hâroon looked around the room. Books covered the floor;  some of his clothing had been pulled out of his closet; and the surface of his dresser had been cleared of the deodorant and other hygiene products he kept there. The toys he’d brought Ibrâhîm had also been spread around the room; there was a block on every surface, a puzzle piece was in the bed with him and on the dresser, and a stuffed toy was on the shelf his T-shirts had been on.

“Yes, he did,” he acknowledged, his eyes locating Ibrâhîm, who was now hitting the closet door with a block.

After Hâroon got out of bed and made wûdhû, he checked the house for Lila to determine if he could leave for the masjid or not. He found her in the kitchen making herself a turkey sandwich.

“Good. You’re home,” he said as he and the twins entered, relieved he wouldn’t have to track her down. He didn’t want to approach or interact with any of her so-called friends. “I need to go pray so watch the kids.”

Her lips twisted into a scowl, but she didn’t argue.

“Mommy, Uncle Qoobie has a baby girl,” Yusrâ said.

At the mention of his brother, Lila looked even more annoyed. Just as Ya’qoob had never approved of Lila, she had never warmed to him either. But Hâroon didn’t have the patience or desire to talk her out of her petty mood just because their daughter had mentioned Ya’qoob’s name, so he ignored her reaction and left.

When he returned home, Lila and the children had moved to the den, and Ibrâhîm was divesting the bookshelf of its books.

“You’re back,” Lila said, standing up, obviously eager to abandon her babysitting post.

He didn’t let her. “I need you to watch the kids while I sleep,” he said.

Fury contorted her features. “What?”

He ignored the seething tone. “I’ve been on the road for twelve hours or more. I have work tomorrow. I need to sleep.”

Before she could reply, he left the room and closed himself in the bedroom for the sleep he needed.

🌾

Hâroon woke up again several hours later for ’Asr. This time he felt rested and ready to handle the children for the rest of the day. After freshening up and making wûdhû, he paused by the den to check on the children on his way out to the masjid.

Yusrâ was looking at a storybook and Ibrâhîm was lining up the blocks meant for stacking. Hâroon watched him for several moments but when he was done, he spread them out and started lining them up again. At least he wasn’t throwing them today.

“You’re up?” Lila’s voice interrupted his observation of their son.

He nodded. “I have to go to the masjid. I’ll be back soon.”

She sighed but nodded. “Fine.”

He didn’t comment on her tone and left the room.

He returned after prayer to find the room less peaceful. Both children were crying, Ibrâhîm the loudest of the pair, and Lila looked ready to explode in frustration.

“What happened?” he asked, raising his voice over the crying.

“He tried to take her doll, they fought over it, and then started crying,” she answered. “Now neither one will stop.” Before he could reply, she left the room, calling over her shoulder, “You handle it. You’re the one good with kids.”

Alone, Hâroon turned his attention to the children. He chose to focus on the easier of the two. Yusrâ could be reasoned with; Ibrâhîm could not.

He sat beside her and pulled her on his lap, rubbing her back in soothing circles. “Want to tell Daddy what happened, Yusrâ?”

“Ibby took my doll,” she finally said between crying hiccups. “Then he hit me!”

“I’m sorry,” he said. He could make no promises or get an apology for her from Ibrâhîm.

“He was being bad,” she said.

“He was,” he agreed.

She sighed. “I don’t like it when Ibby is bad.”

Hâroon smiled. “No one does, but he can’t help it sometimes. He doesn’t understand like you do.”

“Does that mean I shouldn’t get mad at him?” she asked.

Hâroon thought carefully before he answered. He didn’t want Yusrâ to think she had to suppress her natural feelings just because her brother was different. “Not exactly. It’s okay to be upset when he does something you don’t like, but you shouldn’t treat him badly because of it. Sometimes he doesn’t know what he’s doing is wrong.”

“So if I get upset at him, I shouldn’t hit him or yell at him?” Yusrâ asked.

“That’s right,” Hâroon said. “If you’re really mad, you should move to a place he isn’t until you’re not as upset.”

“Doesn’t that mean Mommy shouldn’t yell or hit him when she’s upset, too?” Yusrâ asked.

Hâroon froze. “Yes, it does,” he finally said. Is she hitting him? She knows he can’t understand what he’s doing wrong. If his wife was hitting Ibrâhîm, he would need to speak with her about her discipline methods.

After his talk with Yusrâ, he tried to calm Ibrâhîm, who was much harder. He didn’t seem to understand Hâroon’s words; it was more like calming a fussy baby than a toddler. Eventually, however, Ibrâhîm did calm down.

“I’m hungry, Daddy,” Yusrâ said not long after Ibrâhîm’s crying had stopped and he was looking at a board book.

“I’ll make you something to eat,” he promised.

Once satisfied Ibrâhîm was too immersed in his picture book to cause any mischief just yet, Hâroon left the children playing and went to the kitchen. He returned several minutes later with a plate of sandwiches for the three of them.

Just as the children had finished eating and were each engaged in their own activity—Ibrâhîm lining up blocks again and Yusrâ playing with her doll—Lila passed by dressed to leave, so he left the children and followed.

He caught up to her at the front door. “Before you go, I need to ask you something.”

Sighing, she turned to face him. “What?”

Pushing away any reservations of bringing up a topic that could cause a conflict, he asked, “Have you been hitting Ibrâhîm?”

Instantly, she stiffened. Her eyes turned frosty. “That little tattle tale.”

“She’s three. Of course she’s going to talk about anything and everything that happens,” he replied. “I’ll assume you know you shouldn’t be hitting him by that reaction.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” she snapped. “He won’t listen!”

“Well, is it helping?” he asked pointedly.

She stilled and then sighed. “Not really.”

“Then stop doing it,” he said. “It doesn’t work so there’s no point. You’re just abusing him then.”

She glowered but then nodded. “Fine.” Pivoting, she opened the door and stormed out.

Shaking his head, he locked up behind her, and then returned to the children.

🌾

The next morning, Hâroon left the care of the children to Lila when he went to work, which continued for the next few weeks. They were following their old routine with her watching the twins when he was at work and him taking over when he returned while she went who knew where with who knew whom and did who knew what.

At first, she watched them adequately enough, though she still constantly complained about Ibrâhîm. She was by no means perfect, but he didn’t return home to find the children missing or doing anything risky or dangerous. But by the time a month passed and November began, Lila was beginning to show signs of the same careless behavior as before. He often found the children unattended when he came home more and more frequently, Yusrâ trying her best to keep her brother entertained and out of trouble. When he tracked Lila down, she was either sleeping or on the computer and always claimed she’d stepped out for just a minute.

When Hâroon returned from work on a mid-November evening, he heard Ibrâhîm’s shrieks the instant he stepped into the house. At least they sounded like happy ones. Then he followed the sound to the den and was greeted with a shock. Ibrâhîm was jumping on the couch without a stitch of clothing or even his diaper on him. Yusrâ, meanwhile, stood back watching with a look of helplessness. There was no sign of Lila.

“Daddy, you’re home,” she said with obvious relief when she noticed his presence. She pointed at her brother. “He took off all his clothes and won’t put them back on. I tried to tell him it’s bad to walk around without any clothes, but he won’t listen.”

Hâroon held back a sigh. “Where’s your mother?”

“She’s busy,” Yusrâ said with a frown. “I tried to tell her, but she told me she was busy.”

Busy on the internet, I’m sure, Hâroon thought. Though tempted to march off and find Lila, he turned to what was most important instead. He collected the slightly soiled diaper and the clothes and then got Ibrâhîm off the couch, taking him to his room.

He put him in a fresh diaper, redressed him, and then led him back to the den. Though he needed to start on dinner, he opted to stay a while to make sure Ibrâhîm didn’t strip down again. He had to redirect Ibrâhîm’s attention several times before he gave up trying to take off his clothes and started playing with his toys instead.

After instructions to Yusrâ to call him if Ibrâhîm started taking his clothes off again, he went to the kitchen to cook.

Once the children had been fed, the den cleaned up, and the twins were playing in their room, Hâroon went to look for Lila. He met her as she was leaving her bedroom, fully dressed as if heading out, which was likely.

Without a word, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her back into her room, closing the door so the children—especially Yusrâ—wouldn’t hear what he had to say. “What is wrong with you?” he hissed. “Is it too much to ask for you to watch the children until I get home?”

Lila sighed. “Can we talk about this later? I need to go.”

“You are going nowhere!” he snapped. “This is ridiculous! Stop acting like a teenager and act like their mother! Yusrâ is not Ibrâhîm’s babysitter. Why are you expecting a three-year-old to take care of another child? Not only that, if he has one of his tantrums, he can hurt her! He’s almost twice her size! I’ve had enough, Lila. You stay in this house and watch them like you’re supposed to!”

Lila’s eyes narrowed with anger. “You can’t tell me what I can or can’t do! I’m not a child you can control or ground when you feel like it.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her as her husband he could very well tell her what she could or couldn’t do if he wanted to. He wasn’t being unreasonable. She had a lot more freedom than many women with what he allowed her to get away with. He knew of no one who would allow their wife to go out every evening. Not even his patient father and playful brother would allow it of their wives. All he asked of her was to watch the children for the hours he was at work.

He knew if he pressed on the subject and tried to force her to obey, it would only result in a fight and the children would be caught in the crossfire. It wasn’t worth it.

Why did I marry her? he asked himself, a question that replayed in his mind frequently throughout their years of marriage.

For the first time in years he really looked at his wife. Even in fury, her blue eyes pale as the sky and sharp as glass, she was beautiful. The ’abâyah and hijâb didn’t hide the fact. But as he looked upon the beauty he’d desired when he was eighteen years old, he resented it. He’d never felt as much rage and hatred in his heart toward her as he did now. She had tricked him into marrying her for Allâh knew what reason and there had never been a day she appreciated him. Those days after the twins were born when she’d seemed to soften toward him were just as much as an act to manipulate him as the days before their marriage when she’d presented herself as sweet and kind.

Fearing he’d express his anger and resentment toward her through more than words, he stepped away from her. “I’ll see about another babysitter,” he said over his shoulder as he opened the door to let himself out. “You’re obviously not fit for the responsibility of children.”

“You should have done that to begin with,” she replied. She added as he exited. “Don’t come in my room again.”

He didn’t bother to reply.

After Lila was gone, he bundled up the kids in sweaters for the dropping temperatures and left the house to find Edna Blythe as recommended to him in Moses’ letter. Four houses down from his, as described in the letter, he found a front yard of playground equipment and a door with painted ducks.

“Daddy, can I play?” Yusrâ asked, pointing to the swing set, where a dark-haired child of about eight was swinging by herself.

“We have to ask first,” Hâroon said as Ibrâhîm, on his other side, tried to tug free, perhaps thinking along the same lines as his sister.

He led them both up to the door and rang the bell.

Moments later, it was opened by a middle-aged woman he guessed to be at least a decade older than his mother. Her hair had grayed, but she had she had sharp blue eyes and a friendly smile. Thankfully, even when she took in his attire, her friendly expression didn’t change.

“What can I do for you?” she asked politely.

Hâroon introduced himself and the children before explaining what he needed. “Moses and Serenity Williams recommended you for babysitting,” he told her. “I need a babysitter for while I’m at work.”

“What time?”

“Eight-thirty to about five-thirty,” he said.

“I can do it,” she said. “But not everyday. I have days I’m busy.”

Hâroon nodded. “I understand. Will you be able to babysit tomorrow?”

“I’m available then,” she said. “You can bring them by tomorrow morning.”

“Also, a little warning... My son can be rather difficult.”

Mrs. Blythe’s gaze dropped to Ibrâhîm, who was still trying to pull away. “Not to worry. I’ve dealt with difficult kids before.”

Hâroon wondered if she was truly prepared to deal with Ibrâhîm’s brand of difficult, but anyone was better than Lila, so he nodded.

After mentioning Yusrâ’s play group, where it was, and her timings, they agreed on a payment. Then Hâroon took the children home.

“We didn’t get to play on the stuff,” Yusrâ complained.

“You will tomorrow,” Hâroon told her. “You’ll stay with her tomorrow until I finish work.”

She brightened. “Yay!”

That night, after the children were in bed, Lila finally returned home. He had no idea where she’d been or whom with, but he was too tired of talking to her to press for answers.

“I found someone,” he said. “She’ll start tomorrow. She can’t babysit everyday, so you’ll have to watch the kids some days.”

“Fine.” She walked past him without another word.

He watched her disappear down the hall in the direction of her bedroom. I shouldn’t have married her. I should have listened to everyone. I was so wrong.