Two Brothers, One Heart

Part 2: Chapter 74

Totally Polo 🐎🐎

In the realm of hoofbeats and flowing manes,
Horses roam free across wide plains.
Their beauty unmatched, a majestic sight,
In golden fields, they gallop with delight.
With strength and grace, they run so fast,
In their presence, time feels vast.
Their eyes, deep pools of wisdom and might,
In their presence, everything feels right.
Galloping under the sun's warm embrace,
In harmony with nature's pace.
Horses, symbols of freedom and power,
In their presence, hearts truly flower.

*

"You sure about not going?" Islam asked, her lips shimmering with the lip gloss she applied at the vanity.

"Yeah, got some unfinished business to tackle. We'll catch up later," Firdausi replied coolly, leaning against the door in a tube top and last night's pajamas.

"Fine. We'll chat. I'm curious about that mystery man," Islam teased, as Firdausi walked in, rolling her eyes.

"You're stunning," Firdausi complimented, admiring Islam's chic ensemble of off-white baggy trousers, a sky blue Ralph Lauren button-up, a white cardigan knotted elegantly, a brown hijab matching her leather belt and loafers.

"Love your style," Firdausi added, appreciating the fashion sense.

"Just like Mama, got it from her. And you?" Islam asked playfully.

"Stop it," Firdausi replied with a chuckle.

"Let's roll," Yasin declared in his sharp chinos and crisp white shirt, exuding class.

"Nice work, Mr. Six Packs," Islam quipped, taking his hand as they descended the stairs, finding Zaynab and Khalid slow dancing in the kitchen to Zaynab's enchanting hum, like a nightingale.

His hands rested on her waist, hers behind his neck, both chuckling like carefree twenty-year-olds, their love untouched by time. He twirled her, laughter echoing in the curve of her neck.

Meanwhile, the trio watched, smiling as if in a movie. Yasin cleared his throat, prompting them to return.

"I was about to make Yasin's custard, right, Yasin?" Islam said awkwardly, Zaynab smiled, and Khalid left after a reassuring pat on her shoulder.

"Why are you two all dressed up?" Zaynab inquired, hands on her hips, reminiscent of her old self.

"Didn't I mention we're off to the polo game?" Islam recalled, pouring powdered custard into a mug.

"When? I can't recall," Zaynab, massaging her temple, the surgery's aftermath causing memory lapses.

"Last night, Mama. We're heading out when Usman arrives," Islam explained, finishing the custard and adding milk.

"You need to slow down; your wedding's in November, just three weeks away," Firdausi chided.

"I know, Mama, but let me do it my way," Islam protested.

"Your way," Zaynab teased, laughing, then left the kitchen.

"Wow, what a PDA!" remarked Firdausi, who sat at the island waiting for a mug of custard too.

"What's PDA?" asked Yasin, who was always clueless.

"It's called public display of affection," clarified Islam, who dropped his mug and sat with Firdausi, drinking from the same mug.

"We're lucky to have cute couple parents," said Islam.

"Yes. The other day at the boutique, Abba said Mama was a fine lady, better with age, and he kept taking pictures of her. She was seriously embarrassed," said Yasin, who laughed.