HALF HER DEEN

31. 𝑫𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒎𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓!

"Just make sure to let me know when you're free so we can go on the walk you keep complaining you need," Ayesha said to me through the speakerphone of my phone, which was propped against my ear as I cut up the onions on the chopping board.

I chuckled, chopping the last onion and tipping the pieces into the skillet on the stove that now had melted butter in it.

"I'll probably be free tomorrow, Inshaa Allah, after breakfast, right before noon," I said. "I have an appointment tomorrow"

I'm finally at eight months, and I'm so excited and grateful for this journey. It feels like just yesterday we found out I was pregnant.

It's been months of always feeling tired, moods wings, aching feet, clothes not fitting and eating unhealthy food.

This pregnancy definitely hasn't been all rainbows and sunshine, but Alhamdulilah for this journey. I had even gained weight and I feel insecure about it, but Hassan loved the weight gain and never failed to let me know. If he could, I truly believe he would live in my skin. My clingy man.

These days, I've had to force him to go to work because he never wants to leave my side. And I the same. It's so endearing for someone to want to be in your presence all the time. It really shows me how in love we are.

"That's fine, babe," Ayesha replied. "I hear all the chopping, miss wife. It must be nice to have a handsome man coming home to you every day with flowers and chocolates."

That was true. Hassan had been bringing me either chocolate boxes or flowers whenever he could, and I really appreciated his thoughtfulness.

And I wanted to show my appreciation so I'm cooking his favorite dish for him. He's probably going to fuss about why I'm on my feet and not resting but he deserves this and more. I'm forever grateful for him.

"I'm sure Aunty can get you the same if you actually indulge her in her marriage conversations," I teased as I stirred the onion mixture on the skillet.

Ayesha gasped dramatically before she replied, "Halimah Musa! The only people she knows are over thirty and live back home. I am not doing it. Why can't my neighbor be secretly in love—wait, my neighbors are old. Never mind."

I burst into laughter at her resignation as I added shrimp to the skillet. The sizzle and aroma filled the kitchen.

With a quick flick of the wrist, I sprinkled a pinch of salt and freshly ground black pepper over the shrimp, letting them sear to a perfect golden brown. I reached for minced garlic and chopped parsley, infusing the shrimp with their aromatic flavors.

The shrimp curled slightly as they cooked, turning opaque and tender.

"By the way, what are you cooking? I can practically smell how delicious it is."

"I'm making some alfredo shrimp pasta. You can come over; there's enough," I responded absentmindedly.

"Girl, I wish I could, but I unfortunately have plans...with my bed."

I let out a soft chuckle. Ayesha and I are truly the same person. I remember before I was married, it was extremely rare for me to leave home for leisure. I would be in the house either cooking, reading, or sleeping. Those days seem like years ago.

"Well okay, whenever you want to eat, you can always come over, bestie," I said, removing my phone from my ear and placing it on the counter before pressing the loudspeaker option as I walked to the fridge to get cheese.

"Of course, babe. I know Hassan is secretly tired of me with the rate at which I visit you."

"Of course not. He knows you're my number one bestie," I responded as I turned off the stove.