Fickle

Epilogue

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room where Abdullah, Kulthum, and the twins sat together. The stillness of the moment felt both familiar and foreign, as though they were all in the process of finding their place once more in each other’s lives. After all these years, the distance between them—once an insurmountable wall—was beginning to dissolve. The simple act of sitting together in the same room, of being a family again, was a quiet victory in itself.

Abdullah watched his children, their presence filling the space with a mix of wonder and apprehension. Hudayfah, still cautious, was quietly flipping through a book, his brow furrowed in concentration. Jenna, ever the energetic one, was hopping between the couch and the floor, trying to get Abdullah's attention as she hummed a tune. Her bright, eager eyes met his, and she grinned widely, instinctively seeking out the affection that had once been a part of their everyday life.

Abdullah smiled softly, but it was the look in Hudayfah’s eyes that tugged at his heart. There was still so much to rebuild, so many lost moments to regain. Yet, there was no rush—he would take his time, earn back the trust that he had once lost.

Kulthum sat beside him, her presence a quiet but reassuring force. She had been through so much in these past years, but now, with her family around her once more, there was a sense of peace that she hadn’t realized she had been missing. She reached out, her fingers brushing against Abdullah’s, a silent reminder that they were no longer just parents to their children—they were also learning to be a couple again, a unit.

“Jenna, do you remember how we used to spend time together?” Abdullah asked, his voice warm but laced with the uncertainty of trying to bridge the gap that had once divided them.

Jenna’s face lit up, her laughter filling the room. “We used to play so many games! Like the one where you chased me and Hudayfah around the house,” she said, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. “And we’d have popcorn for movie nights!”

Abdullah chuckled, the sound so familiar and full of the love he had once shared with his children. “Popcorn sounds like a great idea,” he said, his eyes catching Kulthum’s. It was a moment of connection, small but meaningful.

Hudayfah looked up from his book, meeting his father's gaze for the first time in what felt like an eternity. There was a quiet hesitancy in his eyes, as though he was still unsure of where to place Abdullah in his heart. But his lips twitched, the faintest trace of a smile, as though he was willing to try again.

“I don’t like movies,” Hudayfah said, his voice still cautious, but there was no bitterness in it. “But I remember that game. I liked it.”

Abdullah’s heart swelled at the words, though they were simple. It was the start. The beginning of opening up, of regaining those small pieces of themselves that had been lost in the years of silence.

Kulthum looked over at her son, her eyes filled with tenderness. “We can always try new things, Hudayfah. What would you like to do?” she asked gently, her tone inviting him to speak without pressure.

Hudayfah paused, thinking for a moment. Then, with a slight glance at Abdullah, he murmured, “I don’t know. Maybe... maybe we could build something?”

Abdullah’s heart fluttered at the suggestion. It was a small step, but a step nonetheless—a sign that Hudayfah was willing to let him in, to explore the possibility of having his father back in his life.

“We can build anything you want,” Abdullah said, his voice sincere. “A castle, a tower, a spaceship—whatever you imagine. We’re in this together.”