E P I L O G U E

[Ten years later]

Zeyara

"Your evil plans will never succeed!"
Maira has her arms wrapped around my neck and a leg over my belly. She's laughing when I clutch on to her tighter, protecting her from our enemy.
The enemy attacks once again and this time she's successful in pulling off our warm blanket.
"Stop being a kid and go take a bath Zeyara!" Zawjati says.

"Don't force me to become violent zawjati! I love my sleep more than you."
Now it wasn't just about sleep, it was also about my scary wife forcing me to take a bath in mid December of icy Manchester! I regret teaching her how to fight. Humble advice to my brothers; Make sure the girl you marry can't punch akhi.

"Go and take a bath Zeyara! Now!" She peels Maira off of me and puts her on the carpeted floor. "My daughter is catching your laziness!"
Other kids of her age crawl, walk, play but Maira likes to stay where she is unless me or Mashal pick her up. Initially Mashal got concerned and took her to the hospital but all the tests only indicated one problem with her, "laziness." She motivated me to come up with my own first law of babies inspired by Newton; 'A baby at rest will remain at rest and a baby in motion will continue moving unless acted upon by her parents.'

"Firstly, all those other kids are silly! My Maira is a genius! She conserves her energy. Secondly, its not called 'laziness' darling, its called 'talent'." I say, mimicking a very offended tone of voice.

Mashal ignores me completely and starts pulling my legs. "You smell worse than Maira's poo! Go take a bath right now! We can't go like this!"

"I thought you loved me zawjati!" I say as she manages to pull me off the bed and drag me to the bathroom. "Do you want me to freeze and become a human flavoured ice cream?"

She thinks for a second, "Actually yes that would be amazing! I love ice cream."
She pushes me into the bathroom and I can already feel myself freezing. "M-Mashal" I gulp, "please don't do this to me. My daughter needs a father."

She makes an 'are you serious?' face, "Its. Just. A. Bath! And remember the time when you said you're hotter than the sun? Go use your hotness to survive."
Maira seems to think zawjati is trying to kill me for real and she starts wailing, "Baa! Baaa!" Her lame attempts at saying 'abba' are another thing Mashal is jealous of because Maira said baa before maa. Well, I don't really blame baby Maira for saying baa first since her father is so spectacularly amazing who saved the whole world from the super evil Konstantin but of course, Mashal thinks otherwise. We have probably had a dozen fights on who saved the world from Konstantin. She argues that it was her but you all know it was me. Right?

"Don't worry my daughter! Evil will nev-"
Zawjati shuts the bathroom door on my face before I can complete my sentence.

*

When I come back out dressed up and not smelling 'worse than Maira's poo' anymore, I see my baby in a pink dress with bunny ears on her head, sitting on the bed sucking her toes. She gets over excited to see me alive. I open my arms hoping she would run up to me but the lazy bum just stays there and opens her arms instead as if saying, 'Why should I do the work? You walk!'

"Ya Allah!" zawjati exclaims walking in the room. "We're going to be late and I won't be able to sit in the front row and I won't be able to take Marwa's pictures for her instagram and she won't be able to tag me and-"

"And did you fart?" I say drawing her closer to me in her golden dress. "Cause you blew me away."
"Hey!" she shrieks, "what sort of compliment is that?"

"The sort you get when you look so breathtakingly beautiful." I whisper, leaning in closer until our foreheads touch and her breath fans my face. She flushes red and looks down shyly. I stifle a grin at how she still acts like a shy bride after ten years of our marriage.
"We-we're getting late" She says in a meek voice. "Put on your coat and tie and let's go!"

I bite back my laughter. "I'll take ages to do my tie. Why don't you help me with it?"
She stares up at me, still blushing and looking so adorable . "You just need an excuse to get me closer to you!"

"You're clever." I smirk. I can tell she's trying so hard not to blush but she keeps failing miserably. Moments later zawjati ties my tie, smooths my coat while a sly smile plays on my face and Maira claps enthusiastically in the background. I wasn't in any mood to stop teasing Mashal but Humna decides to interrupt us from my phone. "Sir according to my calculations, you should have left by now if you want to attend the graduation ceremony."

"Oh no!" Mashal panics, pulling away from me, "Zeyara get Maira and run!"
I groan throwing my head back but still obey my wife (brothers take notes) and we rush out with Mashal throwing on her abaya at the speed of light.
"Humna put on the jets." I say after securing Maira's seat belt and putting the car on autonomous driving.

"Are you sure, sir?"

"N-" zawjati begins to say.
"YES" I interrupt.
The car roars and speeds down the road at the fastest speed possible.
"Woooohooooooo!" I hoot and Maira copies me with a cute "Wooo!" Her eyes full of laughter and excitement.
Mashal on the other hand seems like she's having the last car ride of her life. "I want to have more kids before I die!" she screams, her voice muffled by the air pressure because I forgot to close the windows.

"According to my calculations" Humna says casually, "We will either reach the graduation ceremony or reach Allah today."

■■■■■■■■■■■■■

Mashal

I hop out of the car before Zeyara gets the chance to pull the hand brake. The parking lot is completely packed and I already know I won't get to sit in the front row to take Marwa's Instagram worthy pictures.
"We are in time!" Zeyara exclaims, propping Maira in his arms. Then he looks at my angry eyes and gulps. "I guess we're not."

"If only you didn't make a scene out of taking a shower!"
My phone rings before Zeyara can reply. It's Marwa calling.
"We're here Marwa! We're in the parking, don't worry." I say into the phone.

"It's my turn to go up in two minutes." She heaves a sad sigh.

"We'll be there in sha Allah!" I hang up and don't bother stuffing my phone in the bag.
"It's her turn in two minutes!" I shout at Zeyara who is busy locking the car.
He pauses and looks at me.
"Run!" We both scream in unison.

"Nun!" Maira chuckles and we literally run.
The Manchester university building looks almost like Hogwarts; ancient grey walls, circular towers and moss. I was the first to graduate from here as a doctor and now it was Marwa's turn to be a law graduate.
We hurry to the hall where the graduation ceremony is taking place. It is packed with parents and students wearing graduation robes which look like my abaya.

I hear a kid point at me and say to his mother, "Why is her robe different from the other students?"

"Because I'm special." I chuckle as I rush past them.

"Because she cheated in the exams!" Zeyara shouts, earning a glare and a light punch from me.
A LIGHT punch.
But for the rest of the way he pretends that he is a domestic abuse victim and I am a violent wife.

We walk in the exact moment Marwa's name is called out and she appears on the stage.
We can't find any chairs so decide to stand at the back.
The hall is completely silent but when Marwa is handed over her degree, Zeyara can't hold the excitement anymore so he screams. "Yooooohoooooo! That's my sister right there! Go Marwa!"

Everyone, and I mean everyone including the professors and Marwa herself turn to look at us.
"Tooohooooo!" Maira claps. I think we are doomed and Marwa would hate us forever.
But uncle Suleiman, who had reached before us, claps in the crowd. Then I clap as well. Soon, the entire hall is clapping for Marwa. Her smile beams so bright that both, me and Zeyara know we are forgiven for being late.

The rest of the event seems to be going smoothly if we ignore the leg-ache due to the lack of chairs. However, Maira soon solves that as well. While I am groaning about being late to Zeyara, she snatches the baby dinosaur of a kid in the row in front of us and flings it away. It lands on the floor far away. That is enough for the kid to go crazy screaming, crying and kicking around with his red face. His family keeps asking what is wrong but he doesn't stop. His tantrum disrupts the silence so much that one of the event manager comes and politely asks his family to leave the hall...
Leaving empty seats for us.
Now I know this was bad and Maira deserved punishment but Zeyara starts laughing his head off as if his daughter had done the cleverest thing in the history of babies. Now you see why I say I have to raise two kids?

The ceremony had not even ended completely when my phone began screaming for attention because of the thousand text messages from our group chat. Everyone seems to be talking about a different topic and nothing makes sense but I guess that's how all group chats are.

Malaika's Queendom

Malaika: Where's everyone???? Mashal where r u????

Saddia: Well if she's not swooning over her husband, then she's probably in the loo *inserts kissing emoji*

Aymur: Who changed the group name from Alnihayya girls to Malaika's Queendom? 🔫

Marwa: Guyssss! I just graduated 🎓

Me: I'm at Marwa's graduation. sup?

Malaika: LISTEN YOU ALLLL! THE GROOM'S SIDE IS COMING IN AN HOUR! THEIR FLIGHT WAS EARLY!

Maryam: asdfghjklljjidsoi💣

Saddia: I haven't even curled my hair yet!!

Marwa: I'm still backstage at the ceremony! My whole family is here!

Malaika: Look, I NEED YOU ALL HERE IN TWENTY MINUTES. ESPECIALLY YOU MASHAL! ZARA IS FREAKING OUT HEREEEE!

Marwa: But my graduation!

"You alright?" Zeyara gives my shoulder a squeeze when he notices me staring at the phone screen.

"No I'm not. I always mess things up. If only I had given Mrs Jamila a bigger dose of diueritics, she might have survived. And it was my fault we were late for Marwa's graduation and I blamed it on you. Now Zara trusted me with her big day but I've almost messed that up too. I'm not only the worst doctor and wife but also the worst friend."

"Um...none of that was your fault." Zeyara says, his one hand holding Maira on his lap and the other over his mouth to hold back laughter.
"But since you're at it, can you please take another blame on yourself? So I can tell the next person who asks me about my face that my wife burnt it with acid because there was less salt in the food?"

"Not funny." I lightly punch him sideways while trying not to smile.

"Come on! I mean let's break the stereotype of women being oppressed by men. Let's tell the world how much you oppress me."
I chuckle at his attempts to cheer me up and at Maira trying to copy her father by squeezing my shoulder with her baby hands.

My phone rings again with Marwa's call. I hurriedly accept the call only to hear Marwa telling me we should leave for Zara's wedding and she can come later with Uncle Suleiman.
I narrate this to Zeyara and we run out of the hall at the same speed we came in.

*

Ibrahim

Noor's cries remind me that the sun is up again. I don't remember why my mind dwelled back to her last night so much that I spent the whole night on the prayer mat. Maybe it was the glimpse of her I saw in Noor's eyes or perhaps it was Aisha's hair when I combed it and it felt just like her mother's. Whatever it was, it made tears roll down my face and soak my beard. The beard she had once playfully stroked and compared to a broom. I smile at the thought and fold the prayer mat.

Noor, my four year old had seen the same old dream of her cousin Maira pulling her hair out of her head and leaving her bald. Mashal's daughter is catastrophic. I thought my kids would end up being like that because of Minahil's bold behaviour but instead, Noor and Aisha both turned out to be sensitive little girls while Maira became the destructive kid.

"Shhh your hair is okay I promise." The dream seemed rather hilarious to me but for Noor it was the worst nightmare ever.
I strike her tiny soft black hair and she clenches my thobe in her fist to make sure I don't leave her. Then she sleeps again, without a word.
I smile and close my tired eyes as well, finally falling asleep.

*

A pull on my arm jerks me awake to see Aisha's grinning face.
"Upsy daisy now don't be lazyyyy
It's time to go to the masjiddd!"
She is singing our favourite wake up nasheed. Noor is up too and she joins her sister.

"Wash your face up,
and pick the pace up,
it's time to go to the Masjid."

I catch their contagious excitement, the three of us sing along and follow our routine of doing wudu, brushing our teeth and changing out of our bed-time clothes before going down for breakfast.

"Dad we're going to aunt Zara's wedding today!" Aisha exclaims while munching on her cereal.

"Yes in sha Allah but what do you say when you begin eating?" I pour some milk into Noor's bowl and then take my seat at the dining table.

"Oopsie!" she looks embarrassed. "I forgot to say Bismillah."
I give her a smile and she mumbles a quick bismillah before digging into her coco pops again.

It takes me roughly an hour to tidy up the kitchen, dress up Noor and tell Aisha for the millionth time that she looks pretty. Then we get buckled up in the car to go to the banquet hall.
"But are you sure I look prettier than Ghania and Safa and Pakeeza?"

One thing I don't want is for my 7 years old daughter to be insecure about her looks when her mother was so confident. I park the car at the side of the road with the intention of ending her self doubt forever.
"You know what's better than being pretty Aisha?" I ask.

She thinks for a moment, a finger on her chin. "Having a never ending supply of chocolate?"

"Uh- yes." I supress my grin. "But being beautiful is better than bring pretty. Pretty just means that someone with eyes looks at you and says 'wow' but being beauitful means that even a blind person says 'wow' for you."

"But what if the person is dumb and can't speak?" Noor joins in from the back seat.

"Then the person can use sign language to say wow." I answer, trying my best not to chuckle.

"How do I become beautiful baba?" Aisha's face scrunches into a questioning expression.

"Well just like you have make up to be pretty, you have the sunnah to be beautiful."

"But I already follow the sunnah! I take a bath on Friday and I keep my room clean and I smile at people." Her chubby cheeks dimple as she smiles.

"Na'am! Yes! So you're already beautiful. You don't need to be pretty."
I start the car when she looks satisfied and after that she never asks if she looks pretty again.

Apparently we reach the hall late because the groom's side came early. The nikaah was done and the hall was buzzing with the gold theme everywhere. Noor and Aisha spot their Aunt Mashal at the women's section and run to her. I wave at my sister from far, not wanting to go in the women section. She waves back reassuring me that my daughters would be safe. I go over to the men's section and join Zeyara and the others.

From then on, it becomes lonely.
When Noor and Aisha are with me that ache goes away but in quiet moments like these, it returns.
The bunch of guys on the table including Sanan and Zeyara get involved in a political debate, each one defending their favourite party. I say an occasional word or two to avoid anyone asking me the usual "Are you okay?"

I want so much to talk to her, hold her close, laugh with her and compliment her in Arabic, leaving her wondering what I said.
I'm not hopeless though. I know we will be united again in sha Allah and I pray every day for that. We would be much happier, much closer, so much more in love in jannah.
I know it's a test when every night  her place in the bed is cold and when every day rises devoid of her sarcastic commentary, when no one calls me Ibby anymore, when no one else laughs like her.
No one ever replaced her and no one ever can.

'You can never attain righteousness unless you spend in the cause of Allah that which you love; and whatever you spend, surely it is known to Allah.'
(Aal-i-Imraan 3: Verse 92)

Zeyara waves his hand in front of my eyes. "Hellooooo! Bro where are you lost?"
I shake my head. "Nothing. What's up?"
The table is empty now. Only me and Zeyara left, the others are probably gone to get some wedding food.

"Remember brother Haris from Nigeria?" Zeyara asks.
I nod a yes but I already don't like where this conversation is heading.

"He was asking me if you've thought about it now. It's been a week and he wants an answer from you regarding his sister."

I shift uneasily in my chair, fingers playing with each other in search of an escape from this conversation. "Zeyara I just can't do it. I can't think of being with anyone other than Minahil."

"I get where you're coming from akhi." He pats my back reassuringly. "But remember you're allowed to get married and Minahil herself told you to do so."

I visibly shake remembering the time Minahil's cancer became active and she was given a fortnight to live according to the doctors. She had literally begged me to get married again and not live alone. Especially for our daughters.
"Ibby look at me." She had said when I was scared to meet her eyes, scared of having to live without those eyes.

"I swear I'm happy." She had whispered, pulling my face into her hands. I remember she had smiled at me as she said. "I've lived the life which was written for me and oh my! what a beautiful writer He is. He wrote you for me! I love my Rabb so much."
I remember I closed my eyes and shook my head. My heart was bleeding with the pain but she kept wiping the tears away.
"I'm so lucky Ibby! I already know when my soul might meet it's Creator in sha Allah. I'll die with the shahada. Is that not what you wanted for me? For us?"
I remember she smelled of vanilla with a delicate hint of her medicines when I engulfed her into a tight hug, thinking that if I let go, I might never be able to hold her again.
She didn't shed a single tear. She was so serene, so peaceful, so happy to be meeting her Lord.
Maybe I was being selfish because I wanted her to stay with me. I know she is happy with Allah but I want to snatch her back. Want to grow old with her, want her to be there for Aisha and Noor's weddings, for their little acheievemts like getting an A on a test. And maybe we could've pretended to be the tooth fairy like all parents do.
She would've made a beautiful fairy.

"Akhi." Zeyara says, ending my flashback. "Haris is an amazing brother and I'm sure his sister would make an amazing wife for you in sha Allah. Your daughters need a mother."

I open my mouth to refuse again but Zeyara stops me. "You haven't seen your last day yet so how do you know you won't have a happy ending?"
Then he gets up and leaves the table and I make my decision.

*

Mashal

Zeyara cares for Zara just like he cares for his biological sister Marwa.
I don't ever mention this to Zeyara but I think after all these years he still holds himself responsible for the death of Zara's brother.
Zara and my friendship grew much stronger after I lost Minahil and only Zara was left for girly talks.
She quickly became my best friend and now that she was finally getting married I was so happy for her.

After the nikaah, Malaika the 'halal DJ' as she calls herself started playing wedding nasheeds while everyone busied their tummies with food. Ibrahim had left his daughters with me but instead of increasing my responsibility, they decreased it by playing with Maira so she was no longer on my lap.
Both, Noor and Aisha are such angels just like their mother. The thought of Minahil creeps into my heart making it ache but I brush it aside. She's happy with Allah.

Aisha, Noor and Maira along with Malaika's daughters; Ghania and Pakeeza are sitting on a table together. I am observing them from the table nearby, making sure they don't end up fighting.
"Baba told me being beautiful is better than being pretty. It's easy too! You just have to follow the sunnah." I hear Aisha tell the other girls.

A smile spreads on my face. Ibrahim is trying his best to make his daughters beautiful strong women. He is raising them so good that I doubt sometimes whether Zeayara and I would be able to do the same for Maira.

"Mashal aapi." I hear Marwa's voice out of the blue. "I wanted to talk to you."
I look up to see her a bit nervous which is unusual. Also the fact that she chose this time to talk to me when I am alone just confirms that it's going to be an important topic. I hope its not about me not taking her pictures at the graduation even though I promised her.

"Sure." I pull out a chair for her next to me.
"Uh...." She begins after getting seated. "It's about your brother."

"Ibrahim?"
Phew. At least not the pictures.

"No, the younger one..." She says, looking a bit red.

"I don't have a younger-- oh! You mean Abdullah?"

The red on Marwa's cheeks goes brighter when I take Abdullah's name making it clear enough what she wants to talk about.
I laugh a little. "Even though I think I know where this is going but please continue."

"I...think I like him." She blurts out and then quickly covers her face with her hands, scared of my reaction.
I just laugh more and ask. "Does he like you too?"

"I don't know." She says looking rather embarrassed. "He is a junior in my university and akh said I should let you guys know if I like someone."

"Good girl! I'm so happy you did the right thing and didn't go near haram. Do you want me to talk to Uncle Suleiman and Zeyara now?"
The time Marwa and Abdullah used to be kids flashes before my eyes. The time when Abdullah loved books and Marwa loved punching bags. Both of them were my favourite kids. Kids with troubled pasts who strived to make the future better. To see them together would be the best thing ever.

"Pleaseeee?" she says, pouting like she used to as a kid.

"Fine." I chuckle. "But only if you look after these kids while I go get some dessert."
She squeals in excitement and pulls me into a quick hug. "You're the best sister in law!"
I mumble a thanks and head towards the dessert table, my eyes fixed on the chocolate cake.

Suddenly I feel someone's arm around me.
"Zeyara!" I look around to make sure no one saw that. "Get out of the women's section!"

"With pleasure." He whispers and casually picks me up.
"Zeyara put me down! What if someone sees?!" I protest as he rushes out of the hall.

"That's why miss drama queen, we are going where no one else except Allah can see us." He laughs.

"You're kidnapping your own wife?!" I shriek, punching him to get out of his hold. 

"Ten years of our marriage and you still can't trust me." He puts me down. I notice we are in the bridal room behind the main hall.
"Yeah because what if someone shot you with a mind control gun and you are my husband but you are not my husband?"

"Well that's why we have that poem!" He clears his throat and begins.
"Roses that I bought for her.
Roses that her father killed
She said goodbye-"

"I don't know why you thought this poem which doesn't even rhyme is a good code word for us. It should've been something cuter!"

"Lets change it then if you dont like it." He shrugs. "What about If I were a bird and you were the sky-"

"Please no!"

"Hm okay. I'll make a new one then;

If you were a star and I was a stargazer,
You might be far but I'll wear my blazer.
And walk up to the Everest
To see you the closest.
Even on cloudy nights,
You would shine so bright.
I'll sow some seeds,
to grow you flowers.
I'll pluck the weeds
And spend with you hours.
All love would be ours.
If you were a star and I was a stargazer."

"Done with the cheese now?" I giggle at his 'poetic' attempts of comparing me first to the sky and now to a star.
"No." He whispers, moving in closer to me.
He takes my hand and I open my mouth to say something but he cuts me off.
"Shhh. Listen."

For the rest of my life
I'll be with you

Maher Zain's "Rest of my life" nasheed plays in the background and now I like the idea of Malaika being the 'halal DJ'.

I'll stay by your side honest and true
'Til the end of my time

Zeyara spins me around while smiling brightly.

I'll be loving you, loving you
For the rest of my life

I break into giggles as we dance without the slightest idea of how to dance.

Through days and nights
I'll thank Allah for opening my eyes
Now and forever I
I'll be there for you

I lose count of the number of times my foot squishes Zeyara's but I feel like a bird for sure.
Like a small bird at fajr, learning how to spread its wings and fly.

☆

Ya Rabb accept my niyyah behind writing this book and make it a form of blessing rather than a fitnah.
Ameen.