The Nearest Heaven ✔️

Epilogue

Epilogue - A Lifetime of Love

"Good women are for good men..."

~ Surah An-Nur, verse 26.

"Naira!" Hanan wailed pitifully.

"Hanan!" Naira mocked. "Stop wearing my clothing!"

"But you have nicer clothing!" Hanan whined.

"That's because I am the eldest!" Naira told Hanan smugly with one hand on her hip. There was a self-satisfied smile on her face. Hanan's eyes began to water as her cheeks puffed out.

"Don't you dare start trying to emotionally blackmail me by crying," Naira growled angrily at Hanan.

Faraaz rolled over in bed and grabbed Fadiyah, pulling her closer to him as he kissed her cheek and temple. "Why don't your children ever sleep in?" he asked her, his voice thick with sleep. Their daughters arguing and fighting with one another was part of their routine weekend mornings. If the girls were not screaming the roof down, the boys would be playing rowdy, chasing one another up and down the stairs yelling battle cries that would shame the military.

"Shh, maybe if we pretend we are still sleeping they won't bother us," she murmured as she tilted her head just enough for him to kiss her and then they held on to one another and fell asleep, ignoring their yelling children.

Their peaceful haven only lasted another half hour longer before their five-year-old son came screeching into their room. "Daddy!" he wailed, dragging out the syllables longer than they needed to be.

Faraaz rolled onto his back, exhaled and sat up. His eyes - as always - fell onto Fadiyah's thin frame. Her long brown hair was half-tied and half spilling out and onto her body in messy curls. Fadiyah's skin remained as pale as when she just arrived in Sunnington, and even after five children, she never managed to gain weight. Fadiyah was as beautiful as the day that he had laid eyes on her.

Many people had told him that years after marriage, a wife becomes a staple, a constant and therefore your heart no longer thumps in excitement, but for him, it had never felt that way. His heart still raced each time he saw Fadiyah. Seeing her with their children filled him with pride in a way he struggled to express.

Loving Fadiyah was like having his heart beat external of his body.

"Yes, my baby boy?" he asked as he turned his attention to the needy five-year-old struggling to jump on the high bed. Faraaz bent down and hoisted the little boy up.

"Daddy, I is hungwy," he complained.

"Hmm," Faraaz hummed. "But, you must say, 'Daddy, I am hungry,'" Faraaz quickly corrected his English. When Aaban nodded, Faraaz continued. "And why didn't you ask your sisters to make you some cereal?"

Little Aaban crumpled his face, pulling his mouth in a dramatic expression. "They is fighting. They will kill me."

Faraaz held back his smile. His son Aaban was just as dramatic as the Aaban that he was named after. At almost 27 years old, Aaban was still as melodramatic as he was as a child. When Fadiyah was pregnant with Little Aaban and she found out the gender, she had asked Faraaz if they could name that baby after the boy that stole her heart.

"They won't kill you, baby boy. They love you. Naira and Hanan can be shouting and fighting but they will always help their siblings, Aaban. They would never make you starve. And if you didn't want to disturb them, why didn't you ask Faaris to help you?"

"Faaris is sleeping. Maahir is upset."

Faraaz shook his head at his son's intelligence. Masha Allah. Aaban was too smart for Faraaz and Fadiyah at times. "Why is Maahir upset, Aaban?"