Chapter Twenty-Four: Truth After Dhuhr

 Nīkah Written by Qādr, Tested by Genotype

Chapter Twenty-Four: Truth After Dhuhr

Immediately after the Dhuhr prayer, we returned home together, and there was a different kind of silence in the house, not the silence of sadness, but the silence of expectation. It felt like everyone already knew that something important was about to be said, even though no one had yet spoken about it openly.

Sibghatullah and Ghurobah quickly settled down in the middle of the sitting room as I had asked, sitting closely together while their father positioned himself opposite them. I sat slightly to the side, watching carefully, sensing that this conversation would carry both emotional weight and long-overdue understanding.

Julaybib placed his hands together calmly and looked at them for a moment before speaking.

Julaybib: “Today, I want you both to hear something not as children only, but as people who are growing into understanding life.”

Sibghatullah nodded slightly.

Sibghatullah: “Is it another story or serious talk?”

Julaybib: “It is both a story and a lesson.”

Ghurobah leaned closer to me quietly.

Ghurobah: “Mama, is it story time or lecture time?”

I smiled softly.

Tahira: “Just listen first, you will understand.”

Julaybib began by speaking about how our lives started, how we met, and how families played a role in shaping the foundation of our marriage. As he spoke, he described how my father was a very religious man who valued modesty, discipline, and guidance, and how our upbringing shaped the kind of person I became.

Julaybib: “Your mother was raised in a home where religion and discipline were very important, and that shaped everything about her character.”

Sibghatullah suddenly looked at me with a small smile.

Sibghatullah: “So Mama was strict like this before marriage?”

I raised my eyebrow slightly.

Tahira: “Strict? I was just disciplined.”

Ghurobah immediately laughed.

Ghurobah: “Mama looks strict even now.”

I turned toward her gently.

Tahira: “You too, small girl, don’t start.”

Everyone laughed, and the tension in the room softened for a moment.

Julaybib continued, explaining how our love story began, how it was not based on anything careless, but still came with challenges that neither of us fully understood at the time.

Julaybib: “When we got married, we did not fully understand what genotype meant, or how it could affect a family in the future.”

Sibghatullah leaned forward slightly.

Sibghatullah: “I have heard about it before in school, but not too deeply.”

Julaybib nodded.

Julaybib: “That is where the problem begins, when knowledge is shallow but consequences are deep.”

He paused for a moment before continuing, and the tone in the room began to change gradually.

Julaybib: “In our community, many people did not understand health issues like blood groups and genotype properly. People focused more on marriage arrangements than medical compatibility.”

Sibghatullah: “So what exactly is genotype?”

Julaybib looked at him directly.

Julaybib: “Genotype is the genetic structure of blood inheritance that determines how certain traits are passed from parents to children.”

He continued slowly, making sure they were following.

Julaybib: “There are different types like AA, AS, SS, and others. Some combinations are safe, while others can create serious health challenges for children.”

Sibghatullah nodded.

Sibghatullah: “So that is why I get sick sometimes?”

The room became quiet for a moment. I watched Julaybib carefully as he prepared to go deeper into the explanation.

Julaybib: “Yes.”

Sibghatullah did not speak immediately, but Ghurobah looked confused.

Ghurobah: “So it is like a hidden sickness?”

Julaybib: “Not exactly hidden, but something that shows through patterns of health.”

Then he took a deep breath before continuing.

Julaybib: “From the beginning of our marriage, we started experiencing challenges that we did not fully understand. At first, it was illness that came and went. Then it became more frequent. Then it affected our first child, and then the second.”

He looked at Sibghatullah with calm seriousness.

Julaybib: “You, my son, were affected from early childhood. You had frequent illnesses that required hospital visits, medication, and constant care.”

Sibghatullah looked down slightly but listened carefully.

Julaybib continued.

Julaybib: “We spent years moving from one hospital to another. There were nights we did not sleep. There were days we stayed in hospitals for long hours. There were times when we spent money repeatedly on treatments, tests, and medications without counting.”

Sibghatullah whispered.

Sibghatullah: “I remember some of it…”

Julaybib nodded.

Julaybib: “Yes, but you were too young to understand everything.”

He continued slowly, and the weight of the story became heavier.

Julaybib: “There were moments when your mother cried silently while trying to stay strong. There were moments when I felt helpless but had to remain firm. There were times when we thought about giving up mentally, but we never did because of responsibility.”

Ghurobah moved closer to me and held my hand without speaking.

Julaybib: “We also lost friendships. Some people could not handle the reality of our situation. Some distanced themselves. Some stopped visiting. But a few stayed, like your mother’s childhood friends who you saw recently.”

Sibghatullah asked quietly.

Sibghatullah: “So everything we went through was because of genotype?”

Julaybib: “It is part of it, but not the only thing. Life is a mixture of tests, medical conditions, and divine wisdom that we do not always fully understand.”

He paused again, then continued.

Julaybib: “Even when we were struggling, Allah did not leave us without support. We always found a way to continue. Whenever money was spent, more provision came. Whenever difficulty increased, some ease followed.”

He looked at both children.

Julaybib: “And despite everything, you both grew. You studied. You learned. You became stronger than what we expected in many ways.”

Sibghatullah spoke softly.

Sibghatullah: “So we are not just sick children?”

Julaybib immediately responded.

Julaybib: “No. You are not defined by illness. You are defined by how you continue despite it.”

There was silence again.

Then he added the final part of the explanation.

Julaybib: “We need you to understand this now because you are growing. You need to understand your health, your responsibilities, and how to live with awareness so that you can make better decisions in the future than we did at the beginning.”

Sibghatullah nodded slowly.

Sibghatullah: “I understand more now.”

Ghurobah looked at me quietly.

Ghurobah: “Mama, will I also understand fully when I grow older?”

I smiled softly through emotion.

Tahira: “Yes, you will understand more with time.”

Then the room became quiet again, heavier than before. Julaybib looked at both of them, then at me, and his voice softened.

Julaybib: “This is not meant to scare you. It is meant to make you aware.”

At that moment, something inside me broke emotionally. I could not hold it anymore. The weight of everything we had lived through, everything he had just explained, and everything we had survived came rushing into my heart at once.

My eyes filled with tears, and before I could control it, I started crying quietly. Not loudly, but deeply, as if everything we had carried for years was finally being released in that moment.

And I said nothing more, because my tears had already said everything I could not express with words.

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Written By: Ahmād Zāhir Enagi Abū-Khālif