Three months later

I could feel my patience wearing thin as I stood in the living room, glaring at Sabrina's nanny. "Suwaiba! How many times do I have to tell you to cover her pacifier?!" I snapped, my voice sharp with frustration. "Baki san datti yana hawa Kai ba?"

The poor girl lowered her head in embarrassment. "Aunty mantawa nayi, sorry," she stammered, her eyes downcast.

I shook my head, feeling the weight of motherhood pressing down on me. Just as I was about to say more, my phone rang. I picked it up without hesitation.

"Mama Layloş!" Ibty's cheerful voice echoed through the speaker.

"Mama Rahinatu, what's up?" I asked, forcing a smile despite my irritation.

"Nothing much. How's my little chuchu?"

I sighed, my heart softening at the mention of my daughter. "She's fine, Alhamdulillah. She's taking her afternoon nap."

"Aww, kiss her for me!"

"Inshallah, how's Uncle Ahmad?" I asked, my voice shifting to a more soothing tone.

"He's fine too. What are you up to?" Ibty's voice carried a touch of curiosity.

"Absolutely nothing. I'm bored. Sabrina is asleep, so why don't you come over tomorrow, Inshallah?" I suggested, hoping for some company.

Ibty and I lived in the same area, so it was easy for her to pop over whenever we needed a break from the usual routine.

"Sure! I'll tell Ahmad, Inshallah." She agreed quickly. "Now bye."

I disconnected the call, checking a few things on my phone. The usual distractions, a few messages, and some random stuff, but I was really just waiting for the moment Sabrina would wake up from her nap.

"Ramatu!" I called, my voice firm but tired.

She appeared almost instantly.

"Please wash two cups of basmati rice and bring one agric chicken and wash it for me."

She nodded obediently and hurried off to complete the task. I looked at the clock—Maghreb was near, and soon Muhammad would be home. I had to cook.

Tonight, I was making something special: Teriyaki chicken with ginger chive rice and strawberry cheesecake for dessert. Sabrina was still sleeping, so I had a brief window of peace.

As I prepared the meal, I glanced at my phone again. A message from Norah popped up:

Me: Please, baby sis...

Norah: Okay, fine!! I'll get it for you and give it to Muhammad when he comes back next week, Inshallah.

Me: Yay! Thank you!

Norah: Where is my little chuchu?

Me: She's still taking a nap.

We chatted for a few minutes before I finally excused myself to the kitchen to finish cooking. I had already made the rice and cheesecake earlier, so the chicken was the last thing on the list. I heard Muhammad's voice from the living room as he wrapped up a phone call.

Curiosity pulled me out of the kitchen, and I stepped into the living room. He was standing there, looking every bit as handsome as ever. His presence always seemed to fill the room in a way that made everything else fade away.

"Hi, baby," he said with a smile, his lips pressing lightly against mine in a quick but sweet kiss.

"Hey, how was work?"

He sighed, his frustration evident. "Stressful, as usual."

"Why don't you freshen up and head to the mosque?" I suggested gently, hoping to help him unwind a bit.

He nodded, appreciating the suggestion. After a quick trip upstairs, he returned, more relaxed. We shared dinner, the warmth of our home wrapping us in comfort.

As the night stretched on, I glanced at the clock—almost past midnight. We both knew it was time to retire for the night, but before we did, we stopped by Sabrina's room to check on our baby girl. The sight of her sleeping peacefully in her crib made my heart swell with love.

Muhammad had designed the nursery himself when I went home to give birth. Every time I entered that room, I was reminded of how much care and thought he put into it. It was our little sanctuary.

We went upstairs to change, and I slipped into my pajamas before heading to the bathroom to perform wudu. The quiet solitude of the ritual was comforting, but I couldn't wait to get back into bed with Muhammad.

When I returned, I slipped under the duvet, facing him.

"We're traveling in a few days, Inshallah," he said, breaking the peaceful silence.

"Really? To where?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

"New Orleans," he replied, his tone casual.

I grinned, excitement bubbling up inside me. "Aww, that's one of my favorite cities."

He kissed me softly on the forehead. "I know that, baby."

"How did you know? I never told you!" I asked, my surprise evident.

He shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. "It's a secret."

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't stop the smile from creeping up. "Whatevs," I muttered, stifling a yawn. "Goodnight, babe."

"Goodnight, Hafsatu," he replied, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth.

Two Days Later...

We were finally ready to leave for our trip. But before heading off, I stopped by my parents' house to say goodbye. We were all gathered in Mammy's living room with Nabeel, the atmosphere light and filled with laughter.

"Layloş, your daughter is starting to look like me," Nabeel said, holding Sabrina and grinning like a proud uncle.

I raised an eyebrow, giving him an incredulous look. "Eww, please no."

Nabeel stared at me with mock hurt. "What? Can't she look like me?"

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you and Norah—my child doesn't look like a goblin," I said with a smirk.

Mammy chuckled at our playful bickering, but just then, I got a message from Muhammad saying he was here to pick us up.

"Anyway, Mammy, gitmeliyim (I should probably get going)," I said. "It's getting late."

"Tamam tatlım, iyi yolculuklar (okay, sweetheart, safe journey)," Mammy said, scooping Sabrina into her arms. "İkinizi de seviyorum (I love you both)."

I hugged her tightly, my heart full. "Love you too, Annem."

"Muhammad, Allah ya kiyaye, safe journey my son," Mammy called after him as we headed to the door.

Nabeel carried Sabrina as we made our way outside. We said our goodbyes and zoomed off to our next destination—my in-laws' house in Maitama.

When we arrived, the house was quieter than usual, with Mama and Baba sitting in the living room watching the news. We greeted them warmly, exchanged pleasantries, and I excused myself to the bathroom.

After a quick visit, we bade them goodbye, heading home to prepare for the journey ahead. The night was winding down, and I was ready to relax. I took my nightly bath, changed into my pajamas, and prayed Isha before tucking Sabrina into her crib for the night.

As I lay next to Muhammad in bed, I couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over me. Tomorrow was the start of something new, and I was ready to embrace it all—together with my family.

********

"Ladies and gentlemen, we've just landed at Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport. We hope you had a safe and comfortable flight," the captain's voice echoed through the cabin, signaling the end of our long journey.

Muhammad, ever the calm and collected presence, wheeled Sabrina's stroller through the terminal, while I carried our bags. The excitement of landing in New Orleans was palpable, though the exhaustion from the flight was starting to set in. As we stepped out into the hustle of the airport, a man in his 50s, his salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed and a warm smile plastered across his face, approached us.

"Hello, my name is Andrew," he said, his American accent thick but friendly. "I'll be taking you to your hotel."

"Hello, Andrew. How are you?" we greeted him, our voices a mixture of exhaustion and curiosity.

Andrew smiled brightly. "Doing well, thank you for asking. Ready to show you around!"

With that, we followed him to the waiting car. As we pulled out of the airport and into the lively streets of New Orleans, the city's rhythm and energy made us feel both welcome and alive. The air was thick with the sweet hum of jazz and the savory scent of Creole cooking wafting through the open windows of passing shops.

Soon enough, we arrived at our hotel: the Bourbon Orleans Hotel in the heart of the French Quarter. The building stood with an old-world charm, its intricate ironwork balconies framing the windows that overlooked the bustling streets below.

"I hope you enjoy your stay," a woman in her late twenties greeted us at the front desk with a warm smile as she handed us the key cards.

We nodded, grateful for the hospitality, and made our way upstairs.

The moment we entered the room, I gasped. It was even more beautiful than I had imagined. Elegant furniture, soft lighting, and the soft hum of the air conditioning offered us a sense of refuge from the New Orleans heat. And, to my surprise, a baby crib was already set up in the corner of the room, complete with fresh linens and a plush teddy bear.

After unpacking, we both quickly took a shower to refresh ourselves, the cool water a welcome relief after the long flight. We changed into comfortable clothes, the jet lag already tugging at my eyelids. Sabrina was restless, so I fed her gently until her little eyes fluttered shut. I kissed her forehead and laid her down in the crib.

Sighing with relief, I turned to Muhammad, who was already stretching out on the bed.

"I'm so tired," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled softly, his eyes flickering with a mix of contentment and concern. "Tomorrow's going to be a long day, Inshallah."

I nodded, knowing he was right. But for now, all I wanted was to drift off to sleep, the sounds of New Orleans fading into the background as I finally closed my eyes.

Please vote, comment and share

Love you all💖

Deedah🥀