MINE (EDITED)

chapter 32

It has been a few months since Ibty's wedding, and here I am, just weeks away from meeting my little one. Alhamdulillah, everything is going smoothly, but of course, life can't ever be entirely easy, can it? Juwairah spends her weekends with us, and if it weren't for Muhammad, she'd probably be living here full-time by now. I'm not sure whether to be thankful or annoyed that he stepped in and talked to Baba about it. It's funny how protective he can be sometimes.

I'm not going to work now, mostly because I feel like a balloon, waddling around the house with my back aching from the extra weight. Tomorrow, inshallah, I'm heading home to stay at the guest chalet until I give birth, a family tradition. Honestly, part of me wants to stay here, but Muhammad had a quiet word with Mammy about my eating habits—he thinks I'm not eating enough, a traitor! He's terrified that something might go wrong while he's at work.

Right now, I'm sitting on the floor of my closet, staring at my luggage like it's a foreign object. What do I even pack for this trip? I had given my tailor some ankara fabric and other materials to make me some maternity gowns, but of course, he hasn't delivered them yet. So, here I am, improvising with whatever I can find—summer dresses, random bits and pieces. It's not ideal, but I guess I'll make do.

After I finished packing, I went downstairs to start cooking for Muhammad and his friends who would be coming over for dinner. At first, I was at a loss for what to make. Then it hit me—why not cook some Turkish dishes? So, I settled on Etli pilav and lahmacun, hoping they would love it. Ramatu and Benita helped me with the preparations, and I arranged everything on the table just in time to freshen up before Muhammad got back.

I showered and slipped into a comfy green sweatshirt and black leggings. Bored and with some time to kill, I decided to play around with some makeup and snap a few pictures. Of course, I FaceTimed Ya Meena and baby Nasreen while I was doing it. They're back in New York now, and I miss them so much.

"Layla, look at you, you're glowing! Hamilelik sana yakışıyor (pregnancy suits you)," Ya Meena said, smiling through the screen.

I grinned at her, feeling a little giddy. "I know, right? I'm going to miss being pregnant when it's all over."

"Elbette, you will!" Ya Meena agreed, her voice full of warmth. "It's the best feeling ever."

As I continued to play with my makeup, she asked, "So, have you guys thought of a name?"

I hesitated. "Not sure yet. Maybe Sabrina? Or Naina?"

"They're both lovely," Ya Meena responded, and we spent a few more moments catching up before she had to go.

I finished my makeup, snapped a few more pictures, and posted one on Snapchat while also sending a couple to Muhammad. Two minutes later, my phone buzzed with a message from him.

Mr. Moh: Damn, you look so hot, babe. I could eat you right now.

I laughed and rolled my eyes. Seriously?

Me: Eww, babe, that's gross. Don't forget I'm carrying a little human inside of me... so, yeah, anything could set me off right now. And wait—eat me? Am I food?

Mr. Moh: Gross, ayy? I know you're carrying our baby, I made that happen.

I couldn't help but laugh at his boldness.

Me: Oh my god, you're corrupting me.

Mr. Moh: Lmaooo wai I'm corrupting you. Bye, baby.

I smiled and shook my head. Sometimes, I wonder how this man can make me laugh even when he's being ridiculous. Every day, I thank Allah for him, and my love for him only grows deeper.