HALF HER DEEN

43. 𝑫𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒚, 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒏𝒈?

He snuggled himself closer to me, burying his entire body into the soft folds of the comforter. I could feel the warmth radiating from his skin as his arm draped lazily over my waist.

"Come closer," he mumbled, his voice barely audible. I couldn't help but smile at his request, though I wasn't sure how much closer we could possibly get.

"I will, habibi," I whispered back, my voice soft and reassuring. "Just let me finish this up." I glanced at the screen in front of me, the blinking cursor mocking me for procrastinating yet again. I had weeks to write this essay, but, true to my nature, I had waited until the last possible moment to complete it.

I recently started my Master's in criminal psychology, and it has been nothing short of stressful. The workload is intense, but it's more focused compared to my undergraduate years. Even though the pressure is high, the deeper insights and specialization in criminal psychology keep me motivated. Plus, knowing that the program is shorter than my uni years helps me push through the stress.

As I typed the final words, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. Within minutes, the essay was finally submitted. The weight that had been pressing down on my shoulders lifted. I shut my laptop with a soft click and placed it on the bedside table, eager to finally relax next to Hassan.

Before I could settle in, the door creaked open. Standing there, with his tiny figure framed by the light of the hallway, was Zayd. He looked absolutely adorable in his light gray onesie, his favorite teddy bear clutched tightly in his small arms.

Hassan turned slightly, curious to see who had entered. Together, we watched in quiet amusement as Zayd struggled to hoist his teddy bear onto the bed. The bear was nearly as big as he was, but Zayd wasn't one to give up easily. With a triumphant "oomph," he finally succeeded in getting both himself and the bear up onto the bed. Once settled between Hassan and me, he placed his teddy on top of my closed laptop as if it belonged there.

Zayd had been downstairs with Abubakr, who had come over to help me out with some errands. I had been preoccupied with Hassan, who hadn't been doing well mentally. In fact, I had asked Abubakr for help with the grocery shopping since I didn't want to leave Hassan alone. He agreed, of course, with one condition: I had to lend him my car afterward, typical.  At this point he drove the car more than me.

Now that Zayd was here, he served as a reminder of all the things I still had to do. There was the grocery list, something I had promised to finish before Abubakr headed out.

"I'll be back baby," I said softly, leaning down to give Hassan a quick peck on the nose. "I have to finish writing the grocery list for Abubakr."

As I pulled away, I noticed Hassan's cheeks flush slightly. A shy, sweet reaction I had come to love. In return, he leaned in and gave me a gentle peck back, his silent acknowledgment that he understood. Meanwhile, Zayd, full of energy and curiosity, turned toward his father, crawling closer until his tiny hands tried to cradle Hassan's face.

Hassan's expression softened instantly, his tired eyes lighting up as Zayd's little fingers clumsily cupped his cheeks. I sat there for a moment, silently observing.

"Daddy, what wong?" Zayd asked, his small voice filled with concern as he peered down at his father. His curious eyes searched Hassan's face, trying to make sense of the emotions he saw but didn't quite understand.

Hassan let out a slow breath before answering, his voice soft. "Daddy's just a bit sad, buddy."

"Sad? Like cwy and stuff?" Zayd asked, his innocence on full display as he tried to wrap his mind around the concept of sadness. For him, sadness was something simple—something tied to tears and immediate emotions, nothing more complex than that.