Hers to Love

Chapter 53

Amir's grandmother, with her kind eyes and gentle hands, leaned in closer as she carefully applied the henna to my palms. The intricate designs flowed effortlessly from her, each stroke filled with care and intention. I could feel the warmth of her blessing in every line, every swirl.

"This is a very old tradition," she said softly, her voice soothing. "For a grandmother to apply henna to her granddaughter is an honor. It brings blessings, not just for you, but for the entire family."

I smiled, deeply touched by her words. Her hands worked slowly, lovingly, as she continued, "You will be loved and protected, my dear. This design is not just for beauty—it's for barakat. For prosperity and joy in your new life."

I was wearing a simple white dress, not the traditional Afghan bridal red, but the white felt right for me—a symbol of renewal, of a fresh start. Amir stood quietly nearby, watching as his grandmother finished the henna, his face a mixture of pride and relief.

I glanced at him, remembering the journey that brought us here. Though our path hadn't been easy, with its challenges and judgments, we had made Tawbah, sincerely seeking forgiveness for our past mistakes. The past was heavy, but we had chosen to move forward together, hand in hand, despite everything.

"I know it wasn't easy," Amir's grandmother continued, sensing my thoughts. "But Allah is merciful, and you both did the right thing. Tawbah wipes away all sins. You are starting anew, under His guidance."

Amir finally spoke, his voice steady yet filled with emotion. "We've been blessed to have this chance, haven't we?" He stepped closer, taking my hand gently. "No matter what anyone else says, we know the path we've taken is the right one. And now, we'll raise our child with love, together."

I nodded, tears welling up, feeling the weight of the moment. It was surreal, standing here with his family, accepted despite the hardships, with Amir by my side.

His grandmother smiled, patting my hands after completing the henna. "There," she said, beaming. "You're ready for your new life. Remember, marriage is not just a bond between you two—it's a journey, one that we all walk together as a family."

I couldn't help but feel comforted by her words. Despite everything that had happened, I knew we were supported by the strength of family, by faith, and by the blessings that surrounded us.As I admired the henna's darkening stain, Amir leaned closer, whispering softly, "You look beautiful. White suits you, like a new beginning."

"Thank you," I whispered back, squeezing his hand. "For everything."His grandmother watched us, her eyes twinkling. "May Allah bless you both with love and patience, my dear ones. And remember, every challenge you face is a step toward becoming stronger together."

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Hassan was born on April 4, a perfect spring day filled with new beginnings. His tiny face, with delicate features and big, curious eyes, immediately melted everyone's hearts. Amir stood beside me, his hands trembling with joy as he held our newborn son for the first time.

"He's beautiful," Amir whispered, barely able to contain his happiness. "Just look at him." His eyes were full of awe as Hassan cooed softly, his small hand wrapping around Amir's finger.I smiled, exhausted but overwhelmed with love. "He's perfect, Amir. Our little boy."Amir's parents were beside themselves with joy. His mother, her eyes brimming with tears, kissed Hassan gently on the forehead. "Alhamdulillah," she murmured. "What a blessing he is. Such a beautiful boy."

We had known for months that we were having twins—ever since the doctor first told us at the six-month scan. I remembered the shock of that moment, how Amir and I had held hands, smiling at the news we were expecting two babies instead of one. But now, in the delivery room, it still felt surreal.

The doctor, monitoring me closely after Hassan's birth, looked up with a warm smile. "It's time for your little girl."

Amir and I exchanged a glance filled with excitement. "Our daughter," I whispered, my heart racing with anticipation.

Moments later, our second baby arrived—a little girl, just as perfect and beautiful as her brother. The doctor placed her in my arms, and I couldn't stop the tears from falling."She's so beautiful," I whispered, looking down at her tiny face. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment, and I knew instantly she was the piece of our family we had been eagerly waiting for.Amir leaned in, his voice filled with awe. "Amira. We'll call her Amira."

His parents, overwhelmed with emotion, stood by in amazement. Amir's mother touched her heart and whispered, "Twins. Alhamdulillah, what a miracle."

Amir, still processing everything, looked between Hassan and Amira, his heart full. "We have a son and a daughter," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I didn't think I could feel happier, but now—just look at them."

"They're both perfect," I said, holding Amira close to my chest. "Our little prince and princess."Amir kissed my forehead softly, his voice tender. "You've given me everything, my love. Our family... it's more than I ever dreamed. We're so blessed."

I nodded, my heart full. "Alhamdulillah. We're blessed with two miracles we knew were coming, but it still feels like a dream."

As we both gazed down at our newborn twins, Hassan and Amira, it felt like our world had expanded in the most beautiful, unimaginable way.