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I look down at Rayyan, watching him suckle peacefully, his little mouth working in rhythm as if everything in the world is perfectly in place. His tiny face, so soft and cherubic, fills me with an overwhelming love. I trace my finger over his plump little cheeks, feeling the velvet touch of his skin against mine. His tiny nose, so perfectly shaped, flares ever so slightly with each gentle breath. He looks so content, so beautiful, and my heart swells with a love so deep, so pure, it almost hurts.

Rayyan is wearing his favorite blue onesie today, a soft, snug fit that makes him look even more precious. The white blanket wrapped around him is so soft, almost like a cloud. He smells like heaven—a mix of baby lotion and something sweeter that I can't quite place. It's the smell of innocence, of new beginnings.

It's been two weeks since I was discharged from the hospital, and every day I still can't get over how perfect my little boy is. Even now, as he sleeps in my arms, I feel my heart thrum with joy. He's so tiny, yet so full of life and love. I keep thinking that the world must have stopped when he was born, as if the universe paused just to give me this gift.

I smile down at him as his eyes flutter open, locking with mine. His big brown eyes are still full of wonder, and I can't help but feel a surge of pride. "Hey baby," I sing softly, my voice full of affection as I run my index finger along his soft cheek. He responds with a tiny grunt, his gaze never leaving mine.

I sit in the rocking chair in his room, the same chair that's become my sanctuary since we came back from the hospital. It has become my favorite spot in the world, where I can hold him close, feel the rhythm of his little heart against mine, and just savor this quiet time with him. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

Earlier this week, we had a beautiful family gathering for Rayyan's naming ceremony. It was a day full of love, laughter, and joy. I remember staring at my little boy, his tiny hands gripping my fingers, his soft cries filling the air. It was such a special moment. But then, a call interrupted my reverie, and it was from Adda Ni'imah. I quickly picked up the phone, eager to hear her voice.

"Hello, Rayyan's Ammi!" she greeted me cheerfully.

I laughed, my heart warmed by her excitement. "Hi, Nahar's Maama! How are you? And how's my Nahari?"

"We're all good, Alhamdulillah," she replied with a grin I could almost hear in her voice. "How's baby Ray-ray?"

I looked down at my son, his little eyes blinking as he fed. "Rayray is fine, Alhamdulillah. He's eating well." I watched him, my heart melting at the sight of him so calm and content.

"We can't wait for you to come back and see him," Adda Ni'imah continued. "We are so eager to meet our yummy handsome baby boy."

Mashallah. My baby, my heart. I looked at Rayyan again, this time my gaze filled with awe and gratitude. I had the most beautiful baby in the world.

The love I feel for him is indescribable. It's a love so deep that it feels like my entire soul belongs to him. I can't wait to watch him grow, to see the person he will become, but for now, I am savoring every moment, every smile, every tiny breath.

As I rocked him gently in my arms, I couldn't help but whisper, "I love you, Rayyan. So much."

3 weeks later...

"Assalamu Alaikum," Sayyid's voice gently called out as he walked into the room, his presence instantly bringing a warmth and sense of peace to my tired heart.

I turned to him, a soft smile lighting up my face. "Wa alaikum salam, hi," I whispered, feeling the weight of the world slowly lift just from hearing his voice.

He walked over to me and sat beside me on the couch, wrapping his strong, comforting arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. He kissed my cheek, his lips warm against my skin. "How are you, my love?" His voice, so tender, made my heart swell with affection.

"I'm fine, Alhamdulillah," I replied, my voice barely a whisper. The exhaustion from the past few weeks hit me all at once, but in his arms, I felt safe and loved. "We missed you today, dada."

His eyes softened as he gazed at me. "And I missed you more." He looked around the room as if searching for something. "Where is Rayyan?"

I sighed, the thought of him stirring something deep within me. "He's with Mami. She offered to take him for the night so that I could rest."

He brushed a few stray strands of hair behind my ear, his touch gentle, as if he could sense the quiet pain in me—the exhaustion, the constant pull of motherhood. "Hmm, so does that mean we're alone for the night?"

I glanced at him playfully, a hint of bashfulness in my eyes. "Sayyid!"

He chuckled softly, his laughter filling the space between us like a melody I could never get enough of. "What?"

"You know what..." I teased, trying to keep the mood light, but in reality, I just needed him.

He smirked, his fingers playing with my hair, and I couldn't help but feel a little flustered. "You really need to get your hair done, babe," he mused, his voice low and teasing.

I groaned, feeling a mix of embarrassment and affection. "I know, right? I'm thinking of going to the salon tomorrow, inshallah. Rayyan is four weeks old, so I can leave him with his grand-mummies and Aunties just for a little while."

He nodded, his eyes softening with tenderness. "You really do... it stinks."

I rolled my eyes, trying to hide the smile that tugged at my lips. "Really? Really?"

He leaned in close, his voice hushed but full of affection. "I'm just joking, wifey. It actually smells so good."

I scoffed, though I couldn't keep the smile from my face. "Better for you."

A moment of playful silence passed between us before I broke it. "Can you get me some burgers from Chick-fil-A? Please. I've been craving them for days," I asked, my voice soft, almost childlike.

"Of course I'll get you your burgers, baby." His voice was full of love and care. "Are Meera and Mairam back?"

I kissed him quickly, a simple but heartfelt kiss. "Not yet. They're probably going to buy the whole 'Galleria' before they even think about coming back." I smiled, knowing the shopping madness that Meera and Mairam were famous for.

He laughed lightly, the sound of it so familiar and comforting. "That sounds like Meera to me."

"Poor Khalifa," I said with a chuckle. "They dragged him along. It's already past nine, and they're still not home."

Sayyid and I had the house to ourselves for the first time in what felt like forever. Rayyan, my sweet baby, had only been with us for four weeks, and already, he had changed everything. He was the center of our world, and yet tonight, we could finally have a moment to ourselves—just the two of us.

But God, I was exhausted. Rayyan had kept me up all night yesterday, his cries echoing in the silence of the dark. And while I barely slept, Sayyid, as always, had been the rock beside me, the calm in the storm.

"Baba called me earlier," Sayyid began, his voice breaking the quiet of the room.

I lifted my eyes to his, sensing the shift in his tone. "That?"

He took a deep breath, as if trying to gather his thoughts. "Ruqaiya's boyfriend wants to send his elders for her hand in marriage."

I could feel my heart skip a beat. "Mashallah, when?"

Sayyid's eyes softened, his thoughts elsewhere. "He said until we are back, inshallah."

My heart soared with happiness for her. "I'm so happy for her."

Sayyid was quiet, his mind clearly elsewhere. "Yeah, me too," he replied, but his tone was distant, and I could see the unease flicker behind his eyes.

I tilted my head, trying to understand. "You don't sound happy... What's up?"

He sighed, the weight of it all seeming to press on his shoulders. "I honestly never thought about Ruqaiya or Sauda getting married this soon."

I couldn't help but scoff, the response coming from a place of protectiveness. "Sayyid, Ruqaiya is just a few years younger than I am. And do you want her to be in her thirties before she gets married? Personally, I think early marriage is better. If you find the right person, go for it. You don't have to wait until you're 'old enough.' Do you know that a friend of mine, Layla Matar Muhammad Yerima, got married at nineteen?"

He exhaled deeply, his thoughts heavy. "I know... it's just... weird?"

I smiled softly, kissing his cheek. "You're just being an overprotective, caring older brother, which is exactly what she needs. And it's good that you care so much."

I didn't want to dwell on it, so I changed the subject. "Well, I'm going to go shower. Join me?"

His eyes lit up, a playful grin spreading across his face as he got up. "Of course."

We showered together, the silence between us comfortable and familiar. As we emerged, wrapped in our pajamas, the reality of this life—this beautiful, chaotic life we had built—settled in. Rayyan, my baby boy, was sleeping soundly in his crib, and for the first time in weeks, I felt a sense of peace.

I kissed Rayyan's forehead softly, whispering a prayer for him before moving on to Mami's room to say goodnight. She smiled at me, nodding as I thanked her, and then I went to Ammi's room to say goodnight before returning to our room.

The moment I stepped inside, I saw Sayyid already in bed, his body stretched out but his eyes waiting for me. He had been waiting for me.

I turned off the lights, leaving only the soft bedside lamp on his side, and crawled into bed beside him, curling into his chest. His arms wrapped around me as if he never wanted to let me go.

"I love you, Aidah," he whispered, his voice so full of sincerity that it made my heart ache with gratitude.

"I love you too, Sayyid," I murmured back, my words soft but full of meaning.

He kissed the top of my head, his lips lingering there as if memorizing the moment. "I am so proud of you. Despite everything, you brought our beautiful son into this world. You've given me more joy than I ever thought possible, and I'll never be able to thank you enough for that. You are my strength, my love, and my heart. I am the luckiest man alive to have you as my wife." He kissed my left eye gently, his lips warm against my skin.

"Our beautiful son looks so much like his beautiful mother," he continued, his voice breaking slightly with emotion. "He's perfect, just like you. I can't even fathom how much you went through to bring him here. You're a warrior, Aidah. You're strong, and I am in awe of you. Blessed am I to have you as my partner in this life."

Tears welled up in my eyes, my heart swelling with emotions I couldn't even put into words.

"It doesn't matter if we always agree," he said, his voice tender and full of affection, "What matters is that I love you and you love me. Happy anniversary, my beautiful wife."

His lips met mine, soft yet possessive, a kiss that sealed everything we had been through together. It was a kiss that told me everything, without needing any words.

I was speechless, overwhelmed by the depth of his love. My heart was overflowing with gratitude, with emotion, with a love so powerful it felt like it might burst out of me.

"Having you by my side makes me the happiest, most grateful, and luckiest person in the world. Happy anniversary, my soul mate. Thank you for Rayyan. We love you so much."

The tears I had been holding back finally fell. "I love you, Sayyid. More than I could ever express. You and Rayyan are my life, my heart, and my soul. Allah has blessed me beyond measure with both of you."

We lay there together, in that perfect moment, with the weight of our love wrapping us in warmth and peace. Our little family, the dream I never thought I'd have, was finally here, and it was everything I had ever prayed for. And I would spend the rest of my days cherishing this love, this life, with them by my side.

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