Take off your Hijab (Rewriting)

Heavily Pregnant✅

"Sometimes it is the unexpected and unplanned event's that can ruin this thing we call our happy ending"

Third Persons POV.

Amal shuffled down the stairs with a mix of determination and boredom, craving a break from the monotony of being confined to her room. The house was too quiet, too still—it made her itch for something normal. But her brief moment of freedom was cut short when Zach caught sight of her.

"Wait, wait, wait!, Why are you here?" Zach exclaimed, his voice filled with equal parts shock and accusation, as if she had just confessed to climbing Mount Everest barefoot.

Amal blinked at him, unimpressed. "Wow. Don't I feel the love?."

Zach threw his hands up, exasperated but amused. "No, but seriously, Habibti. I mean, What are you doing down here? What were you even thinking?".

Amal let out a loud, dramatic sigh. "Subhanallah, Zach. I just wanted to escort you out like the very good wife I am. Is that so criminal of a beautiful soul like me?"

"Amal," he began, in that tone that made her want to either roll her eyes or throw a pillow at his face, "you dont get it, you're heavily pregnant."

"Oh, really?" She crossed her arms, her eyebrows shooting up. "Tell me something I do not already know, Captain Obvious."

"You're heavily pregnant..." He paused dramatically. "...with twins."

"Zach!" Amal whined, drawing out his name like an aggrieved child, but her husband just grinned, clearly enjoying this.

"I'm just saying!" he said with mock defensiveness. "Pregnant. With twins. Two tiny humans. Baking. Inside you. That's a big deal!"

"Ya Allah, Zach, shut up." She rubbed her temples as if warding off a headache. "You act like I don't know. I am the one carrying them, you know."

"Exactly my point," he said, stepping closer and lowering his voice like he was sharing some groundbreaking wisdom. "So maybe you should rest. Relax. Stay upstairs and not stress out yourself out by waddling down a flight of stairs. I mean, who are you still trying to impress?"

Amal glared at him, though her lips twitched. "I'm not waddling nor am I trying to impress you."

"Sure you're not," he teased. "And while we're being delusional, I'm an Olympic sprinter."

She swatted his arm, making him chuckle. "You're impossible. I just wanted some fresh air and maybe to feel like a normal person for five minutes. Is that too much to ask?"

"But you're not a normal person right now," Zach said, his tone light but firm. "You're my wife and the mother of my future beans—"

"Beans?!" Amal cut him off, eyes wide. "Are you seriously calling our children beans?"

"Well..." He shrugged, unbothered. "That's what they looked like in the ultrasound."

"Zach, wallahi, if you call our children beans one more time—"

"Fine, fine," he said, putting up his hands in surrender, though his grin didn't fade. "What do you want me to call them?"

"Something beautiful. Something magical. Not legumes." Amal crossed her arms protectively over her belly as if shielding the babies from his nonsense.