Him & His Muslimah

Epilogue 1.0

The room was dimly lit with one lamp on Zaib's side of the bed glowing at his face since his wife didn't like even a ray of sunshine creeping through the curtains during her slumber. Zaib wasn't a fan either, but ever since there was a new addition to the family, he decided to bite the bullet and sleep with some discomfort. It had merely been a few minutes when he heard soft whimpers from the baby cot. Zaib's lost consciousness jumped alive as he scurried towards his child.

His eyes were droopy with exhaustion, but he still managed to crack a loopy smile at his little girl. The first time he had laid his eyes upon his daughter, she had carved herself into his heart. He never knew an existence so small, so frail could overpower his life. Initially, Zaib was confused at this surge of emotions: in his life, he had only loved Zoya so much that it ached his heart, but the moment he met his daughter, his heart automatically created a vast space for her. It was an instinctual, mysterious gift from Allah; the miraculous beauty of parenthood.

He was busy smiling down at her when she wailed again, softly. This cry alerted him as he quickly glanced back, relieved to find Zoya sleeping soundly, and then he hurried to carry his daughter in his arms.

Zaib held her in one arm, her head resting on his clothed bicep and a recent memory flashed in his mind. He chuckled, amused. Over a month ago, he was so afraid to hold his daughter; he'd constantly pester Zoya to carry her while Zaib played peekaboo.

Flashback

"Zaib, I have to finish writing an email!" Zoya shouted impatiently, her sore arm clenched as she held onto their daughter for the past hour. Zaib, who was clapping and entertaining their daughter paid no heed to Zoya's loud tantrums. "Zaib!" She screamed again, and this time Zaib finally looked towards her.

"Zoya, she'll get scared," he hushed his wife, playfully glaring at her. Zoya smiled bitterly, rolling her eyes at him. "If you're not holding her, I'll put her in her cot," she told him.

"No, she hates the cot! She'll start crying," he argued, eyeing his girl again and making another silly face to keep her smiling.

Zoya, growing frustrated with every passing second, almost punched her husband. However, she decided against it when she realised she was still carrying her daughter. "Zaib, either you hold her or I put her in bed," Zoya gave him a choice with a threatening stare.

Zaib looked up, eyeing her nervously. "I'll drop her," he frowned, feeling unease just thinking about it. "I can't carry her," he continued with a dark expression.

Zoya stared at her husband, her eyes softening as she noticed the vulnerability in his words. She smiled softly, her heart expanding with love—it was constantly growing bigger for him. She scooted closer, keeping her gaze locked with him. "You'll carry her- and no, you won't drop her," Zoya stated confidently, causing Zaib's eyes to widen in disbelief.

"No, I can't do that!" He anxiously stepped back, shaking his head, declining her offer. "Zaib, you can. Stop panicking and listen to me," Zoya commanded.

"But she's so small-she'll fall through my hands!" He dramatically gasped as he kept moving away from her. Zoya's expression soured again, her eyes narrow and mouth tightly shut. Zaib recognised this look—she was getting annoyed. He didn't like that frown at all on her gorgeous face, so he instinctively withdrew his stance and stepped close to her, giving in.

Zoya nodded, satisfied. "Sit down, Zaib," she told him, and he complied, seating himself on the bed.

Zoya stepped close, standing between his legs. "She's small," Zoya mumbled as she dropped down on the floor, sitting on her knees. "She's also warm," Zoya completed.