"Ya Allah, doctor, is she going to be alright?" Muhammad's voice broke as he clutched his hands tightly. His usually calm demeanor was replaced by a look of raw panic.

"She is going to be just fine," the doctor reassured, flipping through Layla's chart. "And so is the baby. But she hasn't been eating enough, and that's likely the primary cause of her fainting. On top of that, I suspect some stress might be contributing. Please make sure she gets plenty of rest and a balanced diet."

"Thank you, doctor," Muhammad murmured, his voice tight with worry. Once the doctor left the room, he moved closer to Layla, gently brushing stray strands of hair off her forehead.

"Please, baby, wake up," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Tell me what's wrong. What's been eating at you?"

*****

Slowly, I drifted back to consciousness. The room felt blurry at first, the white hospital walls almost glowing under the fluorescent lights. As my vision cleared, I noticed my mother's face hovering above me, her expression heavy with concern. Ni'imah stood by her side, biting her lip nervously.

"Mammy? Ne Oldu? (What happened?)" My voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

"You fainted, Layla," my mother said, sitting down beside me and stroking my hair gently. "We were so worried. Alhamdulillah, you're okay now."

"For how long was I out, Mammy?" I asked weakly, looking around the sterile room, searching for Muhammad.

"About an hour," she replied, her Turkish accent lacing her words. Her face softened as she adjusted the blanket covering me. "Şimdi yemelisin (You need to eat now)."

"But Mammy, aç değilim (I'm not hungry)," I protested, my hand instinctively moving to cradle my belly.

"Bebeğinin iyiliği için Layla'ya ihtiyacın var (You have to eat for your baby's sake)," she said firmly. Then, leaning in, she kissed my forehead. "Şimdi izin ver de eve gidip dinleneyim (Let me go home and rest now). Since you're awake, Ni'imah will stay with you, and your husband will be back shortly."

Her warm hands lingered for a moment before she left the room. Watching her go, I turned my attention to Ni'imah, who smiled as she perched on the edge of my bed.

"Look how you're glowing," I teased, feeling a flicker of my usual energy. "Are you sure you're not the mai ciki now?"

Ni'imah burst into laughter, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "You're the one glowing with that baby bump, not me! But...who knows?" she added coyly, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Wallahi," I chuckled, "if you're hiding something, I'll find out soon enough!"

Our laughter filled the room, lightening the tension. But before I could prod her further, the door opened again, and a familiar voice filled the air.

"Assalamu Alaikum." Muhammad stepped inside, his tall frame emanating relief and exhaustion. Without a word, he walked straight to my side, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.

"Wa Alaikumussalam," I murmured, leaning into his touch. "How are you feeling now?" he asked, his voice laced with tenderness.

"Better, Alhamdulillah," I replied, giving him a tired smile. "But honestly, when am I leaving this place? Hospitals aren't my favorite."

"The doctor said you could go home tonight, inshallah," he assured me, squeezing my hand lightly.

Turning to Ni'imah, Muhammad raised an eyebrow. "By the way, gaskiya, you're glowing. Are you hiding something from us?"

I burst into laughter. "Exactly what I said! Maybe we're about to hear some big news, hmm?"

Ni'imah blushed furiously, waving her hands in mock exasperation. "You two need to stop ganging up on me!" she whined, trying to hide her smile.

Muhammad grinned. "Should I call Huzaifa? Since we're already in the hospital, might as well do a checkup, ko?"

"Ya Allah! Stop it, both of you!" Ni'imah's cheeks flushed as she threw a pillow in his direction, which only made us laugh harder.

The room grew livelier when Ibty and Norah arrived, filling the space with chatter and playful banter. For a while, I forgot about the dark cloud looming over me—the phone call, the hateful words of Aunty Munira, and the threat of Juwairah's presence in my home. Surrounded by my family, laughter, and love, it was easy to push it to the back of my mind.

But as the day wore on, and the doctor discharged me, that unease returned. While Muhammad held my hand and guided me into the car, I couldn't help but glance at him. He looked so calm, so certain, so utterly unaware of the storm brewing beneath my smile.

Would he still reassure me so easily if he knew how deeply his aunt's words had pierced me? Or was I overthinking it all?

That night, as I lay in bed beside Muhammad, I felt restless. My head buzzed with questions, and my heart thudded with a mixture of fear and anger. Sensing my unease, Muhammad turned to me, pulling me closer.

"Layla," he said softly, his voice cutting through my thoughts, "I don't know what's bothering you, but I want you to know something."

"What?" I asked, looking up at him.

"No one—not Juwairah, not anyone—can take me away from you. You and our baby are my world. Never doubt that."

His words broke the dam holding back my emotions. Tears slid down my cheeks as I buried my face in his chest. He didn't ask why I was crying. He just held me tighter, whispering words of comfort until sleep finally claimed me.

****

Two days later, the countdown to Ibty's wedding officially began. I tried to immerse myself in the whirlwind of celebrations, hoping they would distract me from the storm brewing inside my heart. But no matter how hard I tried, I knew the inevitable—sooner or later, I would have to confront my fears. For now, I held on tightly to the present: the sound of laughter in the air, the joy of my best friend's impending marriage, and the gentle flutters of life within me, a constant reminder of my growing blessing.

Today was the kamu, one of the most anticipated events of the wedding festivities. It was set to take place at an upscale event center. "Seriously, Ibty, get up!" I said as I tugged at the covers wrapped around her. "The makeup artist is already here."

"Chill, sis! This pregnancy has made you snappy," she teased, sitting up with a lazy stretch.

I rolled my eyes as she tied her silk robe and settled into the chair at her vanity table. Mamza, her makeup artist, greeted her warmly before getting to work. Mamza was nothing short of an artist; her magic touch turned every bride into royalty.

I had already done my makeup at home, keeping it simple but elegant to match the bridesmaids' asoebi. I was dressed in a green-and-blue Ankara off-shoulder gown, paired with a delicate gold jewelry set that sparkled subtly. Earlier that day, during the kunshi event, I had intricate henna designs done on my hands, the delicate swirls and patterns standing out beautifully.

After what felt like hours, Mamza finally stepped back, signaling that she was done. When Ibty turned to face us, we all gasped. Her cream fitted komole gown hugged her figure perfectly, and her headgear, tied impeccably by Mamza, added a regal touch.

"You look breathtaking," I said, pulling her into a warm hug.

The photographer arrived shortly after, capturing her beauty from every angle as we headed to the event center. The venue was abuzz with life, adorned with a blend of soft gold accents and floral arrangements that gave it an air of elegance. Drums of the kalangu reverberated through the hall as the crowd cheered for the radiant bride.

Though the atmosphere was lively, I didn't dance much, which was unusual for me. I spent most of my time eating and chatting with Ni'imah, who stayed by my side throughout. Across the hall, I spotted Ibty laughing and dancing, clearly enjoying herself. Seeing her happy made my heart swell with joy.

Before we knew it, the event came to an end. It was almost 10 p.m., and Ni'imah offered to drop me off at home. After saying goodbye to Maama and the rest of the family, I left Norah with Simran and Nina, Ibty's younger sisters.

When I arrived home, I found Muhammad in the living room, engrossed in FIFA, his usual evening ritual. He looked relaxed, dressed in grey shorts and a black shirt.

"Hey, babe," I said, dropping onto the couch beside him.

He leaned over and pecked my lips. "I missed you so much."

I smiled cheekily. "I missed you more. Have you eaten?"

"Yeah, I did. The Alfredo you made earlier was amazing, as always," he said with a grin.

"Foodie," I teased, sticking out my tongue.

He smirked. "And who's the foodie's wife?"

Rolling my eyes, I made my way to the bedroom. After slipping out of my gown, I wrapped a towel around myself and caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. My four-month baby bump seems huge. Rubbing my belly gently, I let out a deep sigh. Juwairiyyah was coming soon, and the thought of her visit filled me with mixed emotions. I still hadn't told Muhammad about his aunt's threats, but perhaps now was the time.

I let the hot water from the shower wash away the stress of the day. When I finished, I sat at the vanity table, applying lotion. The door creaked open, and Muhammad entered, looking as tired as I felt. He stood behind me, placing his hands on my bare shoulders.

"Juwairiyyah is coming next week," he said softly.

I bit my lip, my heart sinking slightly.

"But I spoke to Baba about her staying here. He said he'll handle it and talk to Mama," he added, his tone reassuring.

A sigh of relief escaped me as I nodded. I stood up, walked to the closet, and slipped into my old Mickey Mouse shorts and a sleeveless shirt. After tying my hijab, I offered my isha prayer.

When I finished, I found Muhammad lying on the bed, eyes closed. Smiling, I switched off the lights and crawled into bed beside him. He pulled me close, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"I thought you were asleep," I said, snuggling closer.

"I was," he murmured, before planting a soft kiss on my lips. "Goodnight, baby."

"Goodnight," I whispered, wrapping my arms around him as well.

*****

The next morning, the wedding fatiha was held at An-Nour Mosque. The air was filled with excitement as friends and family gathered to witness the union of Ibty and Ahmad. Later that evening, the dinner and kai amarya were scheduled, followed by the budan kai tomorrow, inshallah.

In the bridal suite, we surrounded a nervous Ibty.

"Breathe in and out," Ni'imah coached, rubbing her back soothingly.

"Before you know it, it'll all be over," I added with a smile.

Mona chuckled. "Honestly, girl, calm down. You're marrying the love of your life!"

We all laughed, and I sipped my zobo, checking my phone for messages. Muhammad had sent me a picture of himself with a congratulatory text for the bride.

Mr. Moh—It's official! Offer my congratulations to my best friend, please. Love you and can't wait to see you. Xx.

I quickly replied, Mashallah! I'll congratulate her, inshallah. Love you too, baby daddy. Xx.

After giving Ibty a reassuring hug, we made our way downstairs to greet the groom and his family, where a photo session soon began. Despite the long day, the joy in the room made it all worth it.

The dinner that night was a grand affair, beautifully decorated in black and gold, matching the couple's outfits. After delivering a heartfelt speech about my best friend, I finally reunited with Muhammad on the sidelines.

"Hey, Hayatim," I said, sitting next to him.

"Baby, you look stunning," he said, his eyes twinkling with admiration.

"And you look incredibly handsome," I replied truthfully.

As the evening came to an end, we brought Ibty to her in-laws' house, with plans for the budan kai tomorrow. Alhamdulillah, everything was falling into place.

vote and comment please..