Aunt Jerry's POV

How did my house, once so full with all my family around me, become so empty? Even when I used to be alone before, the day was spent preparing for everyone's return. One by one, they'd all come home and I'd be able to sleep peacefully. But now? I didn't have a right to worry about Suleiman. Maryam was busy with university. Javed was always out working. And my Yusuf was busy with his little family.

The highlight of my days were when Javed finally came home. But even then, it wasn't the same. I missed everyone's presence. I missed feeling complete. I knew this would happen. As soon as Safia came into our home, I knew this would happen. She wasn't the kind of girl who could live with us. Being all religious, she was bound to ask Yusuf to separate because of Javed living in the same household.

But how was I to tell my bearded, Alim son such a thing? He wanted nothing less than Safia's religious ways. I wasn't against it if it didn't break my family apart. I, too, was once somewhat similar to Safia. Naïve externally religious, kind of weak. Except Safia seemed more selfish and annoying.

But I wasn't the one breaking a family apart. In fact, they themselves broke us apart. After treating me worse than a slave, laughing at me, ridiculing me, what else were Suleiman and I supposed to do? After much convincing, we fled. Suleiman's family were angry with us so they cut communication. I was secretly glad that they did. It was better for my children to have no aunts or uncles than have them.

I started to stray from Islam, so Suleiman thought it would be good for us to go Hajj. We spent every penny we had and when we returned, we had nothing. Shortly after, I became pregnant. Suleiman and I got any job we could and spent hours working. That was when there was a huge impact on our relationship and our seep love began to fade. Our relationship never really stayed the same after that. When I decided to take my hijab off, Suleiman was beyond enraged.

"How can you do this?" He shouted at me. "You're supposed to be my honour!"

"Well I'm a working woman in an area full of non-Muslims! Do you know the kind of looks I get?" I responded.

"I don't care! You're a Muslim woman! Who cares what society thinks?"

"I care because we have to live here! And this was your idea."

"My idea because you couldn't get on with my family!"

"Don't put this all on me! They treated me worse than a dog!"

"Oh please! If you stopped with your 'woe is me, I'm a victim, I'm so wronged' sort of attitude, you'd see things weren't so bad."

"How dare you?" I stomped off, infuriated. In the end, I went along with not wearing a hijab and Suleiman couldn't force me to do so. The rest of my clothing remained modest. I wore baggy blouses and long skirts.

When Javed was born, I took a break from working and we had to rely on Suleiman's wages, which weren't too great. Alongside doing household chores and taking care of an infant, I was doing all of the finance, trying to save everything we could. It frightened me that Yusuf was going through something similar. Well he wouldn't have been doing so if his darn wife didn't insist on moving.

I always thought Yusuf would stay and Javed would get married and move away. It was one of the reasons I was a little more harsh towards him. When he'd stay out until late, I'd stay up to lecture him for I wouldn't be able to do so after he got married. He was also troubled, I could see that clearly. I tried my best with him and showed him more love than my other two children, hoping he'd change his ways and at least give up his bad company. He was a great son though, there was no doubt about it.

He cared for me a lot but sometimes, I wished he'd be a better person rather than caring for me and doing the things he did.

How many times had I caught him flirting with a girl? Playing with hearts? How many times had I caught him smoking? Eventually I had to accept this as a habit of his. Just as I did so, Yusuf interfered and somehow made him get out of the habit.

My dear misunderstood son, Yusuf. Or rather, I was the misunderstood one. He confided in me one day when he brought his lovely children to my house for Javed, Maryam and I to see. I remember savouring the moment my children and grandchildren were in the same room as me. Then Maryam left to meet a friend and Javed left for work. He seemed to be working a lot these days. I was left with Yusuf who seemed on the edge. I asked him what was wrong.

"A while ago, dad gave me some advice." He looked up at me with a bit of guilt at mentioning his father. I nodded for him to continue. "It was when I was going through a bit of trouble with Safia. He said communication was the key to having a good relationship. Recently, Safia and I were discussing this. She said it isn't only the key to a relationship between a husband and wife, rather any kind of relationship. And it got me thinking that we should talk more. And I mean, have real conversations. I'd like it if you could talk to me and share your feelings with me, maybe."

“Of course! I’m your mother. I’m always here to listen to you if you want to talk,” I replied eagerly. It warmed me that he wanted to improve the distance between us that we both denied. Yusuf nodded and smiled before he picked up his daughter and told me he had to go. He promised to phone soon.

I don’t know exactly where I went wrong. I knew Yusuf was closer to his father but there were times when Yusuf was growing up, that I felt ignored by him. Nonetheless, as his mother, I was so proud of him.

He was so handsome when he was young. And he had no idea. I remember when girls would be glancing his way constantly. I wanted to tell him, but I also wanted him to remain humble so I stopped myself from doing so. One son who was obsessed with his looks was enough for me. But since Yusuf was a young teen with such beautifully carved features, I began dreaming of the most beautiful, perfect wife for him.

Somewhere along the way, I don’t know what happened to Yusuf. By the time he was about to start practising, he’d been in many fights and I noticed he looked different. I wanted to talk to him but I couldn’t bring myself to do so properly. He was so caught up in doing his own thing. And when he became a teenager, I almost began fearing him. There came a time when I worried about him even more than Javed. I was constantly asking Suleiman to talk to Yusuf and guide him.

When school finished for Yusuf, he began his Alim course on his own accord. That gave me some peace. Then he grew his fist long beard and began getting taller and skinnier. I thought it was one of those teenage phases. In my eyes, he was still one of the most handsome boys I had seen. But he didn’t turn out the way I expected him to.

I asked him to shave several times and he always refused. Then he began wearing a thobe and I told him it wasn’t a sunnah, the prophet didn’t wear it so he didn’t need to. But then he explained how he believed it was a modest way of dressing and how he found it really comfortable.

I was still set on the idea of having the most beautiful daughter in law, for Yusuf didn’t deserve any less. But then he chose Safia. Why? I still couldn’t understand. I couldn’t see why he loved her so much. She wasn’t beautiful and she had a boring personality in my opinion. Every time I spoke to her, she would be so quiet and shy in her replies. At first, I didn’t mind. But then it got to a point when it began annoying me. Was there nothing more than polite smiles with this girl?

I thought over the moment I accepted her many times. Javed had come to me in the kitchen while I was cooking.

“I’ve never seen him like this over a girl you know,” He said to me.

“Yusuf’s still young. There will be many girls he’ll find attractive.” Although I couldn’t see what Yusuf saw. Only later I found out my amazingly clever son (note sarcasm) hadn’t even seen the girl!

“I don’t think this is just attraction. All the previous times he’s mentioned girls, it’s been comments about how pretty they are and things like that. And he gets on with her family very well. I don’t see any problem.”

“I know her kind. I have a bad feeling. Besides, what’s so great about her that he’s so hooked on getting married to her?”

“Well, if nothing else then at least she’ll help you around the house. She seems like those traditional kind of girls. And then you, my dear, beautiful mummy, will have some rest.” Javed took my hands and commented, “Look how rough your hands are with all these years of hard work. It’s your turn to rest and she can take over. And I’ll buy you nice creams and you can wear them and make your hands soft again like they once use to be.” I smiled up at him warmly.

“Do you really think I should give in?” He nodded. And that’s when I accepted her.

But of course there was more to Safia than what I had expected for she cunningly drove my son away from me. As if our differences weren’t enough for her, she had to demand for him to move. And using that whole story with Amy as an excuse! She was just waiting for something bad to happen so that she could take Yusuf away from this household.

And after that, everything began breaking down. Maryam left home after an argument and I decided not to beg her to stay. She was a good girl and had a lot of influence from Yusuf. I remember when Yusuf used to stay out until late and I knew that he would never do something bad or get into trouble. The boy feared and loved Allah. I trusted him and was at peace with who he was. My only worry was his distance from everyone except Maryam. But I believed he would overcome that if I gave him some space, as he was growing into a man. And I believe it worked.

When I heard Maryam was living with Yusuf, I was initially worried for Yusuf’s situation wasn’t the best. I changed my mind when I realised that maybe Maryam’s attitude problems would be helped by Yusuf for they were always close. I knew she’d have to come back because Yusuf and Safia didn’t have the means to keep her. And I knew she’d have some good influence from Yusuf. Eventually she did return home and her attitude did seem somewhat better.

And then she decided she wanted to move out when she was applying for universities. I tried to talk her out of it but failed. One promise from her made me give in.

“Mum, I’m not going university for the nightlife or parties if that’s what you’re worried about. I want to move out because I believe it’s more convenient for me. I’ll visit every weekend and I promise I won’t turn to drugs, alcohol and things like that. I’m already paying tons and I just want to study. I don’t have money to waste on haram things, nor do I have the courage.”

I wanted to tell her she should have a mahram with her but I felt ashamed of myself. Who was I to give her Islamic advice? When Suleiman divorced me, he said I wasn’t the Juweria he once knew. He said I used to have taqwa (God-consciousness) which was now lost. He said I once had more faith. Things got tough and my iman receded and consequently, I was the one who ruined a perfectly good marriage. Over the years we became less and less compatible.

I remember when he said the words. Divorce. Three times. I wanted to believe it was only anger but there was undeniable seriousness in his tone which he later admitted too. These words were just waiting to be said but were delayed for the sake of our children.

Sometimes I think I needed him but he didn’t need me. But in my ignorant arrogance, I had myself believe it was he who needed me. How wrong I was. And what was I left with now? An empty home.

I needed to find a wife for Javed. One who was willing to live in our household. One that I could trust. A daughter in law who wouldn’t betray me like my brothers or my first daughter in law. Where I would find one, I had no idea. But I had to start searching.