Mafia Captured

17. The wife of the mafia

Sahira didn't realize how quickly time had slipped past her. Darkness now cloaked the earth, and the cicadas buzzed incessantly in the garden, their hum rising and falling like a hypnotic chant. The sound caught the children's attention. One by one, they pressed their tiny hands against the glass door, their wide eyes scanning the shadowy garden as if trying to uncover a hidden secret.

"Mom, what's that noise?" Arhab asked, his voice tinged with both curiosity and fear. He turned to Sahira, who stood beside them holding a plate of food. "Is it... a ghost?"

Sahira chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "No, Habi," she said, shaking her head. "It's the sound of cicadas."

Before Arhab could ask another question, Sahira scooped up a small bite of food and gently pushed it toward his mouth. "Now, say ahhh."

"I thought it was a grass monster," Arhal chimed in with a mischievous grin. He turned to Arhan, his elder brother, and scrunched up his face into a grotesque imitation of a monster. "Rawrr!"

Arhan burst into laughter, and soon Arham and Arhab joined in, their giggles echoing through the small room.

Sahira smiled at their antics but gently wagged her finger at Arhal. "Well, there's no such thing as a garden monster, Hani. Now open up," she said, holding out another spoonful. Arhal obeyed but swallowed it whole without chewing.

"Hani," Sahira said sternly, raising her eyebrows. "Chew properly. Do you want to end up in a timeout?"

Arhal's eyes widened, and he vigorously shook his head. "No, Mommy."

"Good," she said, nodding in satisfaction. "Now chew."

She moved on to feed the others, one by one, a sense of routine guiding her hands and words.

After dinner, the boys demanded their favorite activity—dancing to Baby Shark. As Sahira scrubbed utensils at the sink, their lively voices filled the air. The boys sang and danced, their tiny bodies bouncing with uninhibited joy. The living room became their stage, their laughter like music.

Every so often, Sahira stole glances at them from the kitchen. Her heart swelled at their happiness. This house, nestled in the quiet village, felt like a sanctuary for her children. Here, they could run, laugh, and play to their hearts' content. No locked rooms, no scolding from Rachel for stepping outside their bedroom.

Her mind wandered, unbidden, to the life they had left behind. She had often wondered if she had made the right choice, keeping her boys away from their father. Arsalan could give them every luxury imaginable. He could have filled their world with expensive toys, private tutors, and vacations abroad. But deep down, Sahira knew the truth: if she had stayed, her sons might never have been born.

A cold shiver rippled through her spine at the thought of Arsalan. Though he hadn't come for her after her suicide attempt, she knew it was only a matter of time before their paths crossed again. His threats still echoed in her mind, coiling around her like a snake. Gripping the edge of the counter, she steadied herself. Her heart raced, her breath coming shallow and quick. She licked her dry lips and closed her eyes, forcing the thoughts away. She couldn't afford to fall apart—not now, not ever.

The boys' laughter tugged her back to the present. She took a deep breath, rolled her shoulders, and turned around to finish her motherly duties.

Bedtime was always the most challenging part of the day. After hours of playing, learning, and running around, the boys somehow still had boundless energy. Tonight was no different. They darted through the house like little whirlwinds, evading capture.