Chapter 63

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As-salamu alaikum wa rahmatullah wa barakatuhu

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As Zayan left the room to check on their son, Ayzal tried to sleep, but it eluded her entirely. She lay back against the pillows, her heart full yet exhausted. She had never imagined herself in this position—in a hospital bed, recovering from surgery, with her newborn son fighting for his life in the NICU. But life had a way of throwing the unexpected at her, and despite everything, she felt an odd sense of peace now. She had survived, their son had survived, and Zayan… Zayan had finally broken through the walls that had kept them apart for so long.

She closed her eyes, letting herself drift into the stillness of the moment. The beeping of the machines around her, the soft hum of the hospital, it all felt distant now, as though her mind was far away from the reality of the cold room. Her thoughts wandered back to the past few months—how everything had changed between her and Zayan. Their marriage had been rocky from the start, a forced arrangement filled with resentment and misunderstandings. She hadn’t wanted to marry him, and he had made it clear he hadn’t wanted her either. There had been no tenderness, no love, only cold formality and distance.

But then, somewhere along the line, things had shifted. Zayan’s anger had softened, and while he hadn’t immediately become the loving husband she had once dreamed of, there were moments—small, fleeting moments—where he had shown her glimpses of the man he could be. He had apologized for the way he had treated her, for the pain he had caused, and though it hadn’t erased the past, it had given her hope. And now, with the birth of their son, it felt as though they were on the cusp of something new.

A soft knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts, and when she opened her eyes, she saw Zayan’s mother, her face gentle and full of concern as she stepped into the room.

“How are you feeling, dear?” she asked quietly, coming to sit beside the bed. Her hands were warm as she took Ayzal’s, her touch reassuring in a way that made Ayzal’s chest tighten with emotion. Zayan’s mother had always been kind to her, even when things had been difficult with Zayan. She had been the one constant, the one person who had treated her like family, even when Zayan had kept his distance.

“I am… better,” Ayzal replied, her voice still weak. “Just tired.”

Zayan’s mother smiled softly, brushing a hand through Ayzal’s hair. “That is to be expected, sweetheart. You have been through so much.” She paused, her eyes softening as she looked at Ayzal. “And your baby… he is strong, just like you. Zayan just went to check on him. I am sure everything will be alright”

Ayzal nodded, though her heart ached to see her son for herself. She had barely been conscious when the doctors had taken him away, and the only thing keeping her grounded was Zayan’s assurance that their son was okay. But it was hard to believe it fully until she could see him, hold him, feel his tiny heartbeat against hers.

“How is Zayan?” Ayzal asked after a moment, her eyes drifting to the door as if expecting him to walk in any second.

At this, Zayan’s mother’s smile faltered slightly, though her expression remained warm. “He is… exhausted, emotionally drained. But he is holding on. He has been so worried about you and the baby, but I can see that something has shifted in him. He is changed, Ayzal. This whole ordeal has changed him.”

Ayzal nodded, feeling the weight of her words. She knew it too. She had seen it in Zayan’s eyes when he had held her hand earlier, in the way his voice had broken when he said he loved her. He had changed, and so had she. The bitterness, the anger that had once consumed them both had begun to melt away, leaving behind something raw, something real.

“I think… I think you both are finally ready to let go of the past,” Zayan’s mother continued, her voice soft but filled with emotion. “And he is ready to be the husband, the father that you both deserve.”

Ayzal blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over. She had waited so long for this, for Zayan to see her, to truly see her, not just as the woman he had been forced to marry, but as someone he could love. And now, as they stood on the brink of this new chapter in their lives, it felt like everything was finally falling into place.

Before she could respond, the door opened again, and Zayan stepped into the room, his expression lighter than it had been in days. There was a softness in his eyes, a quiet joy that hadn’t been there before.

“He is doing well,” Zayan said, his voice a little hoarse but filled with relief. He walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge beside Ayzal, his hand immediately finding hers. “The doctors say he is strong for a preemie. They are optimistic.”

Ayzal let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her heart swelling with gratitude. “Can I see him?” she asked softly, her eyes searching Zayan’s face for permission, even though she knew the decision wasn’t his to make.

Zayan smiled, nodding. “I will arrange it,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “But you need to rest a little more first. You have already been through so much, Ayzal. I don’t want you overexerting yourself.”

She wanted to argue, wanted to tell him that nothing mattered more to her right now than seeing their son, but she knew he was right. Her body still felt weak, the lingering effects of the surgery and the emotional toll of the past few days weighing heavily on her. So instead, she nodded, letting herself lean back into the pillows, her hand still tightly wrapped in his. Her eyes fluttering shut as the exhaustion began to take over once more. Zayan leaned down, his lips brushing against her forehead in a tender kiss.

As Ayzal drifted off to sleep, the last thing she felt was the warmth of his hand in hers, the steady beat of his heart grounding her in a way that made her feel safe and loved.

Hours passed in a blur, the world outside her hospital room fading into a distant hum as she rested. When she finally woke again, it was to the sound of quiet footsteps and the soft cooing of a nurse in the doorway.

“Would you like to see your baby now, Mrs. Zayan?” the nurse asked, her voice gentle.

Ayzal’s heart skipped a beat. She nodded, pushing herself up in the bed with Zayan’s help. Every muscle in her body protested, but she ignored the discomfort. She needed to see him, needed to hold the tiny life they had created together.

The nurse wheeled in a small incubator, and when Ayzal’s eyes landed on the tiny form inside, her breath caught in her throat. He was so small, so fragile, his little chest rising and falling with each delicate breath. But he was perfect. Tears blurred her vision as she reached out, her fingers gently brushing against the glass.

“Our son,” she whispered, her voice filled with awe.

Zayan stood beside her, his arm wrapped around her shoulders as they looked down at their baby together. “Our son,” he echoed softly, his voice thick with emotion.

In that moment, everything else faded away—the pain, the fear, the uncertainty of the future. All that mattered was this tiny life in front of them, the love they shared, and the promise of everything that was still to come.

They would face it all together.

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