A tale of love, loss, and new beginnings.
Hareem wants to start over, Momin is stuck in the past. Can a newly wedded couple learn to love and accept one another while also dealing with an uncertain future and a haunting past?
Trigger warning: ptsd...
"O, son of Adam, did you find any comfort, did you happen to get any material blessing? He would say: By Allah, no, my Lord. And then that person from amongst the persons of the world be brought who had led the most miserable life (in the world) from amongst the inmates of Paradise. and he would be made to dip once in Paradise and it would be said to him. O, son of Adam, did you face, any hardship? Or had any distress fallen to your lot? And he would say: By Allah, no, my Lord, never did I face any hardship or experience any distress." (Sahih Muslim 2807)
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Epilogue
Blinding bright light flooded the bedroom as the curtains were pulled apart.
Momin stirred in his sleep, trying to block out the light to catch a few more winks of sleep. A few feet away quick footsteps padded across the marble floor, stopping for merely a second before pouncing onto the bed.
"Oh God," Momin whispered, bracing himself for what was going to come. "Ooof."
The small weight on top of him crawled all the way up to his face and greedily started to kiss his forehead.
"Baba utho (get up), Assalamu Allykum. We have to go to the museum today," five-year-old Ashiq announced, shaking his father's head with both of his fragile hands.
Momin squeezed his eyes shut, mentally questioning why he had agreed to take his oldest child to the museum that Saturday. The entire week had been hard for him after his promotion to a fully tenured professor at the local university.
"I'm awake, beta (son)," Momin assured, changing sides and dropping Ashiq from on top of him. The five year old recovered quickly, seating himself on his father once again.
"I know you're awake, but you need to get up too," he insisted, playing with his father's hair. "You promised, Baba. Don't break your promises." Momin's eyes shot open. Don't break your promises, had been a phrase Ashiq senior liked to say.
Momin turned his head and stared at his son's face, observing each and every feature that made him a mixture of him and Hareem. Hareem's straight nose, his own almond eyes, Hareem's full cheeks, his narrow lips, and Ashiq senior's personality. Did a same name really cause them to be so much alike?
Momin cupped his son's face, pulling it towards his own to kiss it and then bury it in his chest.
"Baba, churo (let go), your beard is poking me." The little boy protested, pulling away.
"Let me enjoy the moment, Ashiq."
"Enjoy it quickly then, we're getting late."
"Give me a minute to savor your scent."
"Eww."
The door threw open loudly, welcoming a tall, angry Maysa; Hareem and his two and a half years old princess. Maysa glided into the room in her Elsa dress, the same one she had been wearing for over a week now. Going through a phase, she was driving her mother crazy these days with her stubbornness.
