Main or Tum

Duty or Love??

Amaira, Zainab, and Saima were now at the end of their pregnancy. Amaira was 8 months pregnant while Zainab and Saima were 8 months and 4 weeks pregnant. Sofiya, however, is 4 months pregnant now. It's been 8 months since Maleeha and Zakia were kicked out of the house, and other than Agha Jaan no body has contacted them. Agha Jaan only contacted them because of their need of money. His daughter was widow and he can't just throw her out in the streets.

Ibrahim, Sahil, Saif, and Arhaam have been really possessive of their wives, especially Arhaam and  Sahil. 

Saima has been really sick due to her difficult pregnancy. She did not have any depression after her rape because Sahil was there to protect her, however, during the end of her pregnancy, she is waking up at night screaming due to nightmares since she found out her child is a daughter. She worries about her safety.

On the other hand, Arhaam has to leave for a military operation with terrorists in a day for a week or longer, which has made both Zainab and Arhaam depressed and anxious about this whole situation. 

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The evening light filtered through the curtains of their new cozy living room, casting a soft glow on the couple who sat together on the couch. Amaira rested her head on Ibrahim's shoulder, her fingers tracing idle patterns on her swollen belly. The air felt heavy with the unspoken worries they carried, the excitement of expecting triplets overshadowed by the challenges that had begun to pile up.

Amaira let out a slow, deep sigh. "I didn't think it would be this hard," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I thought... I don't know, I thought we'd be so happy all the time, but..." Her words trailed off as she blinked back tears.

Ibrahim tightened his arm around her, pulling her closer. He could feel the weight of her emotions, the exhaustion from carrying not one but three lives inside her. The pregnancy had been rough, far rougher than either of them had anticipated. From the constant nausea to the unexpected complications, it had been a rollercoaster of worry and joy. The doctors had warned them about the risks, especially with triplets, but knowing didn't make it any easier to bear.

"Hey," Ibrahim said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face, "it's okay to feel this way. You don't have to pretend everything's perfect."

Amaira's hand came up to cover his. "But it's not fair," she mumbled. "You're doing everything, and I'm just... I'm just here, falling apart."

His heart ached at her words. He could see how hard she was trying to hold it together, but the toll the pregnancy had taken on her both physically and emotionally was evident. Her mood swings were unpredictable—one moment she'd be laughing, the next she'd be in tears. And it wasn't just the hormones; the worry about the babies' health weighed heavily on both of them.

"Amaira," Ibrahim said, turning her face gently toward him. "Tum bikhar nahi rahi ho. Tum teen chhoti zindagiyaan apne andar sambhal rahi ho. Of course, it's hard. Lekin yeh sirf tumhara bojh nahi hai, hum dono ka hai. Hum milkar is safar ko guzar rahe hain."

Amaira closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I feel so out of control, Ibrahim. One minute I'm happy, and the next, I'm terrified something's going to go wrong. And you're always so calm. How do you do it?"

He chuckled softly, though there was no real humor in it. "Calm? I'm terrified too, Amaira. I'm scared every time we go to a doctor's appointment, and I see the look on your face when they tell us something new. But I'm not going to let that fear stop me from being there for you."

She leaned into him, seeking the comfort of his steady presence. "I don't know what I'd do without you," she whispered.

"You won't have to find out," he replied, kissing the top of her head. "I'm right here. Every step of the way."