The Hooded Hijabi

Epilogue

"Noor! Hush, mama's trying to get some rest",speaks Azan as he picks up our four year old daughter in his arms and puts her down on a couch in the hospital room.

I give him a weak smile as I caress the tiny head of our new born son. "How's mama?" asks my thirty year old husband as he approaches me, smiling.

"Alhamdulillah", I reply, my eyes twinkling. "Time for Azan?" I ask.

"Time for me?" he asks teasingly, frowning and leaning in for a kiss on my forehead.

I roll my eyes as my lips curl and say,"You know what I mean. Here." I hand him our little dumpling of happiness as his eyes are fixated upon him.

Azan beautifully utters the call to prayer in our baby's ears and then hands him over to Ma who feeds the baby his first sweet.

"He's beautiful", Ma says to me, her eyes flooded with tears. "Yes, Ali's beautiful", I say, looking at Azan for approval. He nods at me, smiling while Ma looks at me bug-eyed.

"Ali?" she exclaims. I blink my eyes and give her a reassuring smile. Ma sits beside me as our eyes take in every little detail of the tiny face. The dark, black eyes remind me so much of Ali that I want to cry. Cry because of the joy and pain I feel in my heart at the same time.

I raise my head and find Azan and Noor playing on the couch. "No, baba. You must do it like this. Let me show you", she slides her baba's hand off her little doll, placing it gently in one of my Lamborghini model cars and starts racing it on Azan's arm.

I look at the man who held my hand these past six years and kept me going when I had given up on life. For the first two years after Ali's death, I could barely do anything at all. Azan requested Ma for my rukhsati (moving in with one's husband) so that he could look after me. Despite his busy work schedule he always made time for me and made sure that I always had someone to lean on.

He would hold me in his arms and caress my head when I'd wake up from nightmares about Baba and Ali. He would help me out in chores when I'd zone out while working. We wouldn't call ourselves a perfect couple. We fight, bicker, get mad at each other over tiny issues just like any other couple. But at the end of the day, we remind ourselves of our Ultimate Goal: Being together in Jannah.

Things for me got better when Allah Blessed us with a naimat (blessing) in form of our first daughter, Noor. The hole within me began to fill a little and now with Ali Azan in my life it has been filled even further.

But no one will ever replace Ali Malik, my brother. I miss him every day and I still blame myself for not protecting him the way I should have. I tell myself that I should have informed the police or at least someone about Raymond but then I remind myself how that would've put everyone in danger.

Raymond wasn't normal; all that he did was just to make me suffer, and suffer I did. Had I gone against his will he would've made sure to destroy everything in my life. I was scared of losing my family. My family was my weakness but now that I look at how my life has turned out, I feel a sense of power and security.

Ali's absence has made me stronger than before. My life's dunyavi purpose is to fulfil Ali's dreams and goals now. It's funny how your weakness can become your strength. Ali is and will be my strength. Now and forever.

"Asalamualeykum!" utters Fatima as she barges into the room holding her two year old son, followed by her tall, handsome husband.

"Congratulations, Amina!" she says brightly, hugging me. "Oh my, he's adorable! Allahuma barik lahu", she says, gently holding Ali after handing Junaid, her son, to her husband.