Mistaken Perception

Epilogue

~Epilogue~

Aisha walked on bare feet to where all the ruckus was coming from. She prayed the damage wouldn't be too much. Already she could hear them talking, joking, and Gabriel's demands for all of them to calm down.

She chuckled as she walked down the long hallway. This had once been Gabriel's bachelor pad, but after they had gotten married, it made sense for them to settle here. They had raised Musa and Misky here, and now they're five kids. Three boys and two girls, the perfect amount in her own eyes. Although Gabriel had always wanted an even amount.

Four kids. That's what they had been aiming for, but when she had her twins, fraternal, they took it as a blessing and didn't complain.

She paused a little way off from the entrance of the granite-topped, steal appliance, mahogany cabinet kitchen. With a smile, she observed them all in action. As always, as if he was allergic to shirts, Gabriel was cooking bare-chested. And Ahmed finding the need to do things like his dad was also bare-chested. She stifled a laugh at the young 11-year-old who thought he was a man.

Zahra her eldest was admonishing her dad about the food.

"Dad, that's way too much. Now the pancakes will be lumpy," she lectured, standing on his other side.

"It'll be fine," replied Gabriel.

Aisha was always amazed by how much Zahra resembled her sister Shamsa. The same expressions, the same willowy body, and long dark curls. They were the same except for her golden eyes, inherited from her dad. And the full lips that Aisha proudly knew came from her.

"It's ok, it's that taste that counts," soothed Sara from her spot on the counter.

Her black wavy hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, and her glasses were slipping cutely from her nose. She pushed them back, but Aisha knew they would slide down again. Sara was more like her than any of her other kids. But she was even more of a gentle soul than even Aisha herself.

Aisha couldn't help the giggle that escaped as she watched her twins zip around between them. Her little Omar and Hamza. Names that easily rolled out from her the minute she had laid eyes on them. And just like her brothers, they fought, schemed, and played together. They were content to be together, not needing anyone else. A problem that became clear at an early stage. Gabriel and Aisha had to force them apart, just so they would develop the social ability to interact with other people.

"I... Count Olaf will capture and torture you... you... little irksome wretch," shouted Hamza brandishing a wooden spoon covered with the pancake batter.

Musa had been the one who taught them the Count Olaf game. Hamza took great pleasure in playing a game his namesake had invented.

Aisha worriedly watched the two six-year-old's circle each other. She knew they were half-serious. Their games could quickly turn into a wrestling match to the death. There was a serious glint in Hamza's eyes, and she knew from Omar's wide toothy grin he must have done something to upset his bother.

Gabriel must have sensed the tension because his attention was half-trained on them. When Hamza came near his dad ready to fling himself at his brother. Gabriel swooped in and flung his son on his shoulder. He nudged Zahra to take over the stove and expertly placed the eggs he had been about to mix in the waiting hand of Sara. With a serene smile, she mixed dutifully.

"Let me at him... Let me at that irritating, infuriating, maddening, bothersome, nettlesome excuse for a brother. I should teach him not to touch my comic books... I need to teach him a lesson that he shan't ever forget," yelled Hamza, trying with desperation to get away from his dad.