Layla

"Hajiya Fatma," Ammi began, her voice carrying the same respectful tone that had laced every word she'd spoken since I arrived. The room quieted ever so slightly as if everyone instinctively knew something important was about to be said. "If you wouldn't mind, I would like to have a few moments alone with Layla. There is a matter of some importance I would like to discuss with her privately."

The words were spoken with care and deference, as though she sought permission not just out of respect for my mother but for the trust between them as mothers. I turned to glance at Ummi, whose brows lifted slightly, her expression one of quiet curiosity. There was a subtle exchange, a silent understanding, between the two women, one that didn't require further explanation.

"Of course, Hajiya Roudha," Ummi replied with a gracious smile. "You have my blessing to speak with her. Malika, please escort them to my room." 

Ammi's gaze turned back to me, and she stood slowly, her movement as graceful as everything else about her. "Come with me, Layla," She said softly, though her voice left no room for hesitation.

I rose carefully, the weight of the gold-laden boxes still lingering on my lap like a phantom, though they had been taken away moments before. My heart gave a little thump in my chest, unsure of what to expect. I glanced back briefly at my mother, who offered me a reassuring nod, her expression calm, as though to say, Go on, it's alright. 

Ummi's room, a quieter space that was beautifully furnished yet carried the same inviting simplicity. The large windows allowed natural light to spill across the ornate carpets, and the scent of bakhoor lingered faintly in the air. 

She gestured for me to sit on a cushioned seat beside hers, and I obeyed, smoothing the hem of my dress nervously as I perched at the edge of the cushion. For a moment, Ammi said nothing. She adjusted the veil over her face with a gentleness that matched her tone, before finally speaking.

"Layla," She began softly, her voice as deliberate as always. "I hope you are not feeling overwhelmed."

I looked up at her, startled by the question. "No, Ammi," I replied quickly, though my voice carried that telltale shyness. "Everyone has been so... kind. I'm very grateful."

Ammi nodded, as though she had expected my answer. "Good. That's what I wanted for you, to feel welcomed and loved." She paused, folding her hands delicately in her lap before continuing. "You see, Layla, there are things I wanted to speak to you about... things a mother can only say when it's just the two of us."

I blinked, my heart picking up a beat. "Of course, Ammi," I said quietly, unsure of what was coming.

She regarded me for a long moment, her gaze warm yet thoughtful, as if weighing the importance of her next words. Finally, she sighed softly and spoke her tone tender. 

"You are my son's wife now. That makes you my daughter, too. You may not know us well yet, and we may not know you fully either, but that will come with time. What matters most is that we begin with understanding and love. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Ammi," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

She reached out, taking my hand in hers, just as she had earlier. "I want you to know, Layla, that you are not alone. I will be here for you, just as I am here for all my children. If you ever need anything, any advice, any support, anything at all, you must promise me you will come to me."

Her words settled over me like a blanket, heavy with sincerity. I could feel the sting of unexpected tears in my eyes, though I blinked them away quickly. "I promise, Ammi," I whispered.

She smiled beneath her veil, the softness reaching her eyes. "That's good. Very good."

A beat of silence passed.

Ammi tilted her head slightly, her thoughtful gaze holding mine as though she were measuring her next words carefully. The light filtering around the room cast a soft glow over her features, but her voice carried a gravity that was impossible to ignore. 

"You know, Layla," She began, her tone light but layered, "I only came to let you know that I raised a decisive son. When Asad makes a choice, he does not falter. He is steady, deliberate, and sure of himself. He has always been that way, even as a boy. That's why, when he came to us and mentioned your name..." Her voice softened as though she were still processing the memory. "Well, we were surprised. Not because of you, of course, but because it was him."

I blinked, caught off guard by the subtle weight of her words. She wasn't merely telling me about Asad's nature; she was revealing something deeper, something I could sense she wasn't saying outright. 

Ammi smiled faintly, but her hands tightened slightly over mine as if to steady herself. "You see, Layla, my son is not the man he used to be, not entirely, at least. As a teenager, he was... different. More outgoing. He laughed louder, lived a little more freely, and had this carefree energy that made everyone feel light around him. But something changed, and we have not seen that side of him for years now." 

Her words hung in the air, and I could feel my heartbeat quicken. She was painting a picture, but it wasn't complete. There were gaps, shadows she hadn't yet touched. I wanted to ask her to explain, to tell me more, but her next words halted me. 

"I know I'm being selfish right now, and perhaps I'll apologize for it if I ever feel bad about it," She said with a soft chuckle that didn't quite reach her eyes. "But as a mother, I'm afraid I can't stop myself. Layla, this is the first time he has looked at his future and allowed someone else to be part of it, seemingly. And we were shocked, yes, because... it's Asad." 

The way she said his name, with a mix of pride and sorrow, made my chest tighten. 

"He has always been guarded," She continued, her voice dropping slightly, as though we were conspirators sharing a secret. "For years now, he has lived like a man with walls around his heart. We've watched him grow into this remarkable adult, someone who carries himself with so much strength and grace. But even as he achieved so much, there was always something missing. Something that he locked away after..." 

She stopped herself, her gaze flickering to the window as though the sunlight could steady her. "After what he went through, he was never the same. Not even for a day." 

The way she said it, almost to herself, sent a shiver through me. What had happened to him? And why did I feel like I was suddenly holding a piece of a puzzle I didn't even know existed?

Ammi must have seen the confusion on my face because her grip on my hand softened, and her voice grew gentler. "This is not to tell you my son is flawed or that he needs fixing," she said quickly, as though reassuring me. "No, Layla. He is far from that. If there is one thing you will never have to worry about, it is Asad's sense of responsibility, his character, his heart. He has perfected himself as an adult, with little to no help from anyone. He is a man who carries himself with dignity, who protects and provides without hesitation, and wallahi, I am not saying this because he is my son. But his past..." She hesitated, searching for the right words. "It's still here, somewhere. Lurking. It hasn't left him, and I don't know if it ever truly will." 

Her words were heavy, layered with emotion she didn't show outwardly, but I could feel it. She was telling me something important, yet I couldn't quite grasp it fully. 

"And here is the truth, Layla," she continued, her voice steady. "There is nothing I, or his father, or anyone else can do to reach that part of him. We've tried in our own ways, but some things are beyond a parent's reach. I am hopeful... no, I am certain that you are the only one who can." 

The room seemed to quiet around us, her words ringing softly in my ears. I swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. What could I say to something like that?  Heck, what was going on?

Ammi gave me a faint smile, noticing my bewildered expression. She lifted one hand, brushing it lightly over my knuckles. "I hope I have not scared you, my dear. That is not my intention."

I managed to whisper, though my throat felt tight. "No." 

Her smile deepened, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of relief in her eyes. "Good. I only wanted you to know that you are stepping into something beautiful, but also something important. My son chose you for a reason, Layla, and we are so grateful he did. But more than that, I want you to know that we believe in you. I believe in you. I know I am being very selfish right now as a mother, I really do know that, Layla but im afraid I cant help it." 

The sincerity in her voice struck me, and I nodded slowly, unable to form the right words to respond. 

"Take your time," She said softly, releasing my hand and folding hers in her lap. "You will learn about him, and he about you. And, Inshallah, you will find joy together. But know this, my dear, you already have my love and my prayers. You are part of this family now." 

Her words settled over me, warm and weighty, leaving me both comforted and curious. Whatever she was hinting at about Asad's past, I knew it would linger in my mind, a puzzle piece waiting to be uncovered. 

As Ammi's words lingered in the air, I found myself sinking deeper into my thoughts, her voice echoing in my mind.

What did she mean by that? 

I thought back to the first time I had seen him. That fleeting moment at Malik's office when I had barely noticed his presence until much later, and yet, his image had been etched into my mind ever since. When I'd finally looked at him properly on the second and third meeting, I had done so with quiet curiosity, my eyes tracing every detail, silently searching for cracks beneath the surface. 

His eyes, unique and mysterious, carried a quiet aura. His face was one of those faces that didn't just catch attention, it held it. His intelligence, evident in the precision of his words, the calm way he carried conversations, and the stories others told about his accomplishments, painted a picture of someone beyond capable. And then there was his demeanor, steady, composed, as though nothing in the world could unsettle him. 

But now... now I wondered if it was all a perfectly polished mask. 

What the hell was his mother referring to? 

The warmth and sincerity in Ammi's voice still tugged at me. "I want my son back," She had said. Her old, perfect boy. The way she had spoken about him, with pride but also with unmistakable sorrow, gnawed at me. 

What had happened to him? 

I turned the thought over in my mind, trying to fit the pieces together, but none of them aligned. On the surface, he was everything anyone could want. Handsome, brilliant, grounded. But beneath it? There was something there. Something even his mother couldn't name fully. 

Ammi's words played over and over in my head, pulling me into a spiral of questions. What had changed him so much that she still mourned the boy he used to be? What was it that she believed only I could help with? 

I had studied his face before, searched his calm exterior for flaws, and found none. But now I wondered if I had been looking in the wrong places all along. Maybe it wasn't his face, his actions, or even his intelligence that held the answers. Maybe it was something buried deeper, hidden in a part of him that he had kept locked away from the world, and perhaps even from himself. 

I need to know, I thought, the determination suddenly settling over me like a second skin. 

There was no denying it now. Whatever it was that had shaped him, whatever it was that still lingered in the shadows of his perfect exterior, I was going to find it. 

As much as the unknown unsettled me, it also drew me in. 

The answer felt close, tantalizingly out of reach. But one thing was certain, whatever it was, I was going to uncover it. 

This was Layla, I had to find out. I must.

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