"Eid Mubarak Asiya!" Kulthum screamed as she crashed a hug into Asiya's side and nearly slammed her body into the ground. Asiya squeezed her younger sister back and laughed as Kulthum tickled her head under her chin.

"Eid Mubarak!" Aminah cheered from behind them.

"Don't forget about me," Asiya's mother said as she cocooned all of them in her arms and pressed a quick kiss on each of their foreheads.

Once they had untangled themselves from each other, Asiya stood up. She blocked out the sun with a flat hand above her brows and moved her eyes across the landscape.

Hundreds of celebratory dressed Muslims had spread themselves across the field, covering the grass with disorganised clumps of colour like wildflowers shooting their way above ground.

Asiya's eyes searched through the crowd. Kids were skipping their parents to the amusement park. Adults were exchanging handshakes and cheek kisses. Teens were harvesting sweets from younger kids like they were dealing with a black-market exchange. It was like playing a game of Where's Wally?

"Asiya, you'll see your husband when we're back home," Kulthum said as she tugged on Asiya's hand. "Sit down and snack with us."

"I just wanted to say Eid Mubarak," Asiya pouted as she lowered herself onto the mat. "I didn't even speak to Yusuf properly this morning. We all went in separate cars, and the men left earlier than us."

"Yeah, blame Mrs soon-to-be two under two for that." Kulthum nodded in Aminah's direction. "Because of Aminah's truckload of kids, we had to take two cars."

"Oi. I only have one kid right now. Watch yourself," Aminah scolded playfully as Fawaz squirmed restlessly in her lap. "We used to barely fit in one car when we were all single, anyway."

"Someone needs to watch you!" Kulthum remarked as she prodded Aminah's stiff belly. "Another one? At this rate, you'll be singlehandedly responsible for a population crisis."

Asiya snickered at her sister's exchange while her mum scowled.

"Kulthum! E dáké!" Asiya's mother masked her reprimand with a smile. "We're in public."

"Okay, mummy. But you do know the aunties are sat over there, right? You and Aminah should join them." Kulthum batted her eyelashes innocently as she referred to the group of predominantly Nigerian women a few feet away from them.

Like it was a ritual, members of Asiya's community often stayed behind after the Eid salah and picnicked on cultural snacks and chatter. With geles sprayed with glitter, sequined lace and different coloured iro's, buba's and asoebi, the women buzzed around their coolers, plating up puff-puff, meat pies and fish rolls like the wings of butterflies splashed with light.

"Mummy, take your grandchild with you, please." Fawaz kicked his chunky legs in the air as Aminah lifted him like he was a sacrifice.

"Gladly," Asiya's mother cooed in Fawaz's face. "I'll be over there if you girls need me. Kulthum," her mother narrowed her eyes, "behave."

"I always do mummy," Kulthum smiled as she unwrapped a lollipop a kid had given her.

"Do you think Yusuf is still with dad?" Asiya asked as she played with a piece of grass.

"Ugh!" Kulthum groaned. "Asiya, I promise Yusuf has not run away. When we return to the house, I'm sure he'll be there, ready and waiting for you two to do your usual disgusting routine of hiding in one corner and snuggling."

"Err, we do not do that," Asiya rebutted as heat flooded through her.

"Yes, you do." Aminah rolled her eyes. "But I'm not mad. I'm happy to see it."

Kulthum popped her lollipop out of her mouth. "Wow. Aminah's not mad at public displays of affection? That's a first."

"Hugging is not PDA," Asiya frowned.

"I'm not mad because I'm glad to see them happy. They've been through a lot. Asiya has been put through a lot," Aminah said.

Hina's rumour had spread through the Muslim community like the seeds of a dandelion. Almost everyone had heard about Yusuf and Sarah being in a room together.

Luckily, very few people close to Asiya had entertained it, so the rumour hadn't settled and sprouted into something more than what it was, a rumour amongst Asiya's family.

"Yusuf's aunt is the definition of old and bitter," Kulthum spat.

"Kulthum, don't backbite," Aminah sighed.

The seventeen-year-old lay on her back. "I'd say it to her face," Kulthum said confidently.

"I'm sure you would," Aminah muttered.

"Would you do it again, Asiya?" Kulthum asked.

"Do what?"

"Marry Yusuf. Would you still marry him if you knew how hard it would be and how hard people would try to make your lives be?"

"Yes." Asiya's answer left her mouth quickly and landed firmly into the atmosphere. "Everything that happened was a test, Kulthum. That's what family and people are for. There isn't going to be one relationship where your patience, belief or efforts aren't tried. I'd do it again. Not just because I know that and want the reward from that. But because Yusuf was with me through it all, and he was with me after it all, too."

Yusuf wasn't perfect. He didn't have buffed edges like Asiya had initially believed. At times, Yusuf was frustrating, upsetting, and a mess that Asiya sometimes couldn't see or sort through, but Asiya was too, and Yusuf stayed and always tried to help Asiya sort through it and accepted it when they couldn't.

Yusuf listened to Asiya. Really listened to her. He heard what she said and what she didn't like he was pressing the end of a glass against the walls of her mind.

Yusuf didn't bend Asiya out of place or try to mould her into someone she wasn't, and somehow, his wonky edges slotted perfectly against her jagged ones.

There were no words to encompass how Asiya felt about Yusuf. She would never be able to find one in the dictionary, in English, or in another language to describe how she felt towards him. Every word felt like a reduction—an injustice. Nothing Asiya could say would ever contain her love for him. Her love for Yusuf was swollen, and words would never cover it.

"I didn't expect you to say that," Kulthum admitted.

Asiya snapped the strand of grass into two. "I won't lie and say things didn't hurt. Sometimes, it felt like I was dying or walking through quicksand. Moving but getting nowhere. Things only felt like that because I love Yusuf so much."

Aminah quirked a brow. "You love him?" Aminah's words were coloured with so much disbelief it irritated Asiya.

Asiya glared at Aminah. "Aminah. Yusuf is my husband. Duh. Of course, I love him."

"I've never heard you say that before," Kulthum said.

Aminah tipped her head to the side. "Have you ever told Yusuf that? Told him that you love him?" she asked curiously.

Asiya's heart began to hit against the walls of her chest. Thump. Thump. Thump. "What are you guys trying to say?"

"I've heard Yusuf say it to you loads of times." Kulthum licked her sweet before continuing. "He says it to you all the time. He's said it so much this weekend that it's given me the ick."

Each thump of Asiya's heart vibrated through the walls of her memory. Asiya opened her mouth to speak, to try and refute what her sisters were suggesting, but she couldn't.

Asiya slipped her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed on it.

"I've just noticed...during this weekend and in the past as well, you never say it back to him," Aminah said. "In front of us anyway," she quickly added, probably intending for her words to be a plaster over Asiya's fears.

Asiya felt the sides of her lips slug downwards as her sister's words grated in her mind. Have I told Yusuf that I love him before? Have I ever said it back? 

Had Asiya really been leaving a blank space where Yusuf was meant to receive a reply?

Asiya would quickly lose count if she tried to list all the times Yusuf had said "I love you" to her.

He said those words so easily. Thinking about how easily Yusuf said them nearly made Asiya angry.

Out of everything, those words had always come naturally to him. As though he had stood in front of a mirror and practised saying them out loud repeatedly until the words no longer sounded foreign in his mouth, until they sat comfortably on his tongue and the outcome no longer seemed scary.

Asiya's breath seized as she recounted all those moments.

Yusuf had treasured her and shown her that those words were just another manifestation, another form, another display of his love that ran so deep it surpassed his tongue. Yusuf's actions were always louder than his words, but he put in so much effort to say those words loud enough for Asiya to hear.

In all those moments when Yusuf uttered those three words with confidence, passion, and sincerity, Asiya could not remember one where she had said it back.

Asiya could lie, but not to herself. Her brain wouldn't even manufacture a false image of her saying 'I love you' to Yusuf to comfort her.

"I don't think...I don't think I've ever said it back to him," Asiya whispered slowly. Her hand clutched the blade of the grass she had been playing with. "I've never said it back to him."

"Damn," Kulthum hummed. "Talk about you fell first but he fell harder."

Aminah gave Kulthum a dirty look before turning to Asiya. "It's okay, Asiya. Everyone has different love languages."

"That's not an excuse!" Asiya cried as she sat up. Her heart hammered against her chest, making her feel as though she was being dismantled into pieces.

"You've been married for more than half a year. I'm sure Yusuf knows you love him," Kulthum said nonchalantly, as though Asiya never saying, no, worse, returning those words wasn't a big deal.

Asiya was sure Yusuf knew. Yusuf focused on her behaviour and actions, sometimes more than her speech. He could tell when her movements were carefree and when they were being restrained and bogged down by her thoughts. He was attentive enough to know when to place his finger under Asiya's chin and tip it upwards before it fell.

Asiya was so comfortable around Yusuf that she knew all her actions were unavoidable, colourful, loud and in his face.

But it's not the same. Asiya fisted a clump of grass in her hand. It's not the same at all.

How have I never told him that I love him? Asiya thought panickily.

She had been so focused on her feelings. Herself. How she felt. How Yusuf made her feel. How Yusuf expressed himself to her, that Asiya had been slacking with her expressiveness.

Asiya had been hacking away at walls that didn't exist on the side she had thought. She had been the guarded one. The one who hadn't been open. The one constantly holding her breath as though it would be taken away.

"I need to find Yusuf," Asiya said as she stood up. "I need to find him now."

"It's okay, Asiya," Aminah said softly.

"You'll see him when we're home," Kulthum said.

"You don't understand. I've never told him that I love him. How could I? What kind of wife am I? After all he's done for me. All the times he's said it to me, I've never said it back! If it were me, I'd be mortified. Heartbroken!"

At that word, Asiya's mind slipped into a spiral.

"Oh my gosh. What if I've been silently breaking Yusuf's heart this entire time?" Asiya asked as tears began to filter out of her eyes.

"Don't be so dramatic," Kulthum snorted as she yanked Asiya back onto the ground. "Yusuf is not heartbroken, far from it. He knows you love him. He's too obsessed with you not to know! You've shown him, and against our will, us that too."

"Kulthum is." Aminah tipped her head up to the sky. "I can't believe I'm about to say this," she mumbled. "Kulthum is right."

"Hurrah!" Kulthum yelled as she used her lollipop to salute the air.

Asiya's mind slowed its spiral as Aminah swirled her hand against Asiya's back, reassuring her that her thoughts weren't reality. Not saying I love you back to Yusuf didn't make Asiya a horrible person. Asiya could tell Yusuf, in private, when they got back.

"I love that man so much," Asiya said.

"Yawn," Kulthum sounded jokingly.

"I mean it. He's looked after me. He's treasured me. He's stood with me. He's stood up for me! Against his family. His aunt."

Kulthum curled herself back up. Her eyes zoned in on someone behind them, and her shiny lollipop froze at her bottom lip. "Speak of the devil, and she shall appear."

Asiya and Aminah turned around to see Hina and Hannah approaching them.

Hannah was practically skipping towards them. Her bangles glittered up and down her wrist as she waved in their direction brightly.

Hina was lagging behind Hannah. Dragging her feet as though they were swamped with mud.

Asiya waved back and, under her breath, ordered her sisters to do the same.

"Eid Mubarak auntie." Asiya jumped up and pressed a quick hug against Hannah's side, hoping that the speed of it would reduce the silent, societal pressure to give Hina one.

"Eid Mubarak everyone! How are you, girls?" Hannah asked.

Asiya kept her eyes on Hannah as she replied. "Fine, Alhamdulillah. How has the Eid morning been for you?"

"Busy," Hannah chuckled. "I nearly missed the prayer because I was cooking."

"Cooking? You're coming to ours in a few hours, though. You didn't need to cook," Aminah said.

"I know," Hannah smiled. "I just wanted to show my appreciation for the invite. For everything."

Aminah started a polite but not forced conversation with Hannah. One that covered topics like where everyone had gotten their Eid outfits from, how Hannah had found Ramadan and what she was looking forward to from the day.

Asiya stared at Hina. Hina's eyes were on the pile of dirt she was kicking with her foot.

As though she had felt Asiya's eyes, Hina lifted her head, met Asiya's stare, and held it.

The women had had numerous stare-offs and confrontations. Asiya approached every single one defensively, while Hina approached each one offensively. The air had felt pregnant with heat and Hina's hate during each one.

This time, the air felt different. It felt lighter. Asiya was still able to breathe. Her breath wasn't fogging in her lungs at the sight of Hina.

Hina's stare wasn't like her usual one. Aggressive. Dark. A bottomless pit of disgust and rage. This one was softer. Sadder. It was glossier, with something that Asiya recognised but couldn't believe was genuine remorse.

Hina always had something to say. She always started their confrontations off. She always spoke first.

But Hina wasn't talking. She was just staring at Asiya with eyes that were deep and sunken, as though someone had placed their thumbs over them and pressed them into her skin like it was made from plasticine.

Asiya's heartbeat spiked and pulsed dangerously.

This is my chance.

This was an opportunity for Asiya to pull the splinter in her skin. To confront Hina with everything she had done.

Hina's feet were rooted into the ground like they had been glued to it. She tucked her chin into her chest, causing her posture to melt into something smaller.

Here Hina was, standing, reshaping herself into some kind of human punching bag, ready for Asiya's hits.

Asiya had run through different storylines in her mind. She had mentally played scenes of how her next moment with Hina could go. Asiya had memorised the lines she could say and the speech she could give.

Hina was ready to receive it. She was waiting for it. Here she was, willing to take it.

Hina hated her. Hina hated Asiya for something Asiya couldn't control or change. Something that Asiya didn't want to change. Hina hated Asiya because she was black, and Asiya had accepted that.

Hina's hate had been so daring that Asiya could still see its residue under the layers of makeup Hina had applied and the solemn face she wore.

Hina's hate should've made Asiya hate her. It and Hina's behaviour justified whatever Asiya did next. No one would argue against Asiya and say that she had been wrong.

But as Asiya stared at the woman, she didn't feel hatred towards her. Asiya felt sorry for her.

Asiya had learnt a lesson Hina had never been taught.

Asiya would gain nothing from berating Hina. Like an uprooted flower, doing so would only give Asiya temporary pleasure; before the fragrance of it dulled, the flower died, and the guilt from the act of murder settled.

Asiya had to let it go. For her sake. Not Hina's.

If Asiya continued to hold on to what Hina had done and kept the blade of Hina's actions locked in her hand, it would continuously cut into her skin. The pain wouldn't stop until Asiya dropped it.

Asiya had been reluctant to. A part of her felt like she would be betraying her race by not speaking her mind and allowing Hina to live with no real repercussions or retaliation. Asiya felt like she was tapping out of a necessary fight.

But not every fight could be fought the same way. Each one was different. Some would be won with words. Others with action, like with Gouge. Some would be won by simply walking away.

This was one of them.

Asiya's steps weren't a retreat. Or an admittance of defeat. They were a conservation of Asiya's energy for other fights. A manifestation of Asiya trusting Allah's promise: '...they will certainly be questioned on the Day of Resurrection'.

The guilt Asiya was feeling wasn't hers to carry.

The responsibility of the treatment of a population couldn't be carried on her two shoulders alone; it could only be helped by them.

Asiya couldn't help anyone if she didn't help herself.

"I'll go greet your mum, and inshAllah, I'll see you all later today," Hannah said.

Asiya let go of her breath, looked up and sent a smile across the field. There was so much empty space in the speech bubble where Asiya's words were meant to be.

"InshAllah." Asiya exhaled. "Please, feel free to bring your family too."

"What was that?" Kulthum growled the minute Hina and Hannah had turned away.

They all stood up. Kulthum grabbed Asiya's arm as Aminah rolled the mat away. "Did you just give the devil an invite to our house?"

"If she wants it, it's hers," Asiya shrugged.

"But–"

"Kulthum, please." Asiya shook Kulthum's hand off her arm and walked ahead impatiently. "It's no big deal. I just want to go home. I'm more than ready to see my husband."

-  

Author's Note: Yes. Yes. I know I said one final chapter, but it was wayyy too long and had to be split. 😅. Luckily, you can literally swipe for the next. 🤭. 

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Chapter Glossary

Eid Mubarak: Means blessed celebration. Used to greet people on Eid.

Muslims: People who practice the religion Islam and believe there is only One God.

Eid: A Muslim holiday. There are two Eid celebrations. The one being celebrated in this chapter is Eid-ul-Fitr, which signifies the completion of the month of Ramadan.

E dáké: Yoruba. Be quiet.

Salah: Arabic term it means prayer.

Gele: Traditional Nigerian head wrap worn by women.

Iro: Traditional clothing from the Yoruba culture.

Buba: Traditional clothing from the Yoruba culture.

Asoebi: Yoruba. Means family clothes or family outfit. People wear matching fabrics/outfits to signal their relationship.

Backbite: Islamic concept. Talking badly about someone behind their back. A sin in Islam. It also includes saying anything you know a person may not like or want to be shared.

Alhamdulillah: Arabic term. It means praise be to God/We thank God.

Ramadan: The ninth month in the Islamic calendar. Muslims who have reached puberty, are (mentally and physically) healthy, not pregnant, breastfeeding or on their period are obliged to fast from sunrise to sunset every day.

Allah: The One God.

InshAllah: Arabic term. God willing.

'...They will certainly be questioned on the Day of Resurrection...' is part of verse 13 from Surah (29) Al-Ankaboot.