A Promise | 🗸

47 | a new light

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47

aka last chapter before epilogue...

Babies. The only thing running through my head ever since the trial. It seemed like everywhere I went, I was surrounded by babies and all things related to babies. Maryam was turning one tomorrow, so Zayn and I were out looking for gifts. The baby store surely wasn't helping my immense baby fever. 

"Saima, I don't care what you say, but we're so getting her this," Zayn said - practically jumping in joy as he spotted the little drum set geared towards Maryam's age group. It was the cutest thing, so we got her that and some tiny dolls. We went to the long line waiting for our turn; I observed Zayn carrying all things baby-related. His arms filled with the toys as he stood there, tapping his foot, waiting. He would make an excellent father. Was I going crazy? I mean Alhamdulillah, our lives were going smoothly, and everything fell in place except one thing. 

I wanted my own tiny human.

After we checked out, we headed to Subway for lunch. We both sat inside and ate our sandwiches in silence until I blurted out, "Do you want kids."

He looked at me, startled but then raised an eyebrow, "We've discussed this multiple times; of course, I want kids," He said, rolling his eyes. That's true, but for some reason, I kept going,

"Would you want to adopt?" As much as I wanted to experience pregnancy and childbirth physically, adoption was always something on my mind. Many kids out there are in dire need of a family; if I could provide for them financially and emotionally, then why not?

He pondered for a bit sitting his sandwich down, "I never thought about it, I guess so" I nodded that was a good response, 

He lifted his sandwich to his mouth and then paused, setting it back down, "Why?" 

I shrugged, wiping the crumbs off of my clothing, "Don't know," I said honestly; it was random to ask, but I needed to know. The conversation ended there, and we continued eating, talking off about how underrated tuna was.

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"Happy Birthday, my Maryam," I squealed, spinning her around, her little pink tutu flying all over the place, her little giggles being the only thing heard.

"Come to Fufa," Zayn cooed, taking her out of my arms. Bhai and Bhabi's place was full-on decked out for this occasion - courtesy of Zara. Everything was pink. The balloons, streamers, even the forks. Angie was an avid baker who baked the cake. She didn't let me see it insisting it was a surprise, but I already knew it would be extravagant. We all played cute little games and talked until Bhabi called out,

"Cake time!" We went to the table to find a giant pink cake - three tiers. It was hot pink all over with baby pink and gold accents. At the top was this stunning princess figurine, absolutely adorable.

"Angie! Mashallah!" I squealed, admiring every little detail of this masterpiece; I took out my phone, ready to snap a picture when I noticed I had gotten an email.

SUPPORT YOUR UMMAH, ADOPT AN ORPHAN

I was so shocked by this email. I nearly dropped my phone. It was sent by one of the Islamic organizations I was subscribed to. Was this a sign? I mean, I was just talking about adoption a day ago. Quickly turning my phone off, I focused on what was in front of me, spending each moment with my family, trying not to think about my future family.