24. 𝑯𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒉, 𝒅𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒗𝒆 𝒖𝒔?

Life's a tricky thing, you know? You never really grasp how fast it can flip on you until someone you can't imagine living without comes close to leaving it all behind.

Death's got this habit of creeping up on everyone, yet we tend to push it to the back of our minds until it smacks us in the face. Well, it smacked me hard, and even though I don't let it show, I'm still reeling from it.

I'm sitting on the bed, staring at the closed bathroom door, and the fear grips me again. Hassan just got back from his run, and is taking a shower, but all I can think about are those pills scattered on the carpet that terrifying day.

It's been three days since we got out of the hospital, and tonight's a big deal. My parents, brother, and in-laws are all coming over for dinner, all at once and for the first time. It's also like an impromptu welcome home party for Hassan.

It's already five, and I should be downstairs prepping food for our guests, but I can't bring myself to leave Hassan's side. Call me clingy, I guess, but I just don't want to be away from him right now.

The door creaks open, and there's Hassan, dressed but still towel-drying his mop of hair. He shoots me a small smile as he hands me the towel. I chuckle and start drying his hair as he plops his head down on my lap.

"You're such a baby," I tease.

"Your baby," he shoots back, totally unashamed.

After a few minutes of towel-drying, I tap him on the shoulder.

"Come on, let's go cook," I say, urging him up.

We head downstairs to the kitchen, and I start pulling out ingredients while Hassan grabs the aprons. I ordered this cute couple set online, both black with 'His Chef' and 'Her Chef' written on them. Cheesy, I know, but we love it.

"Ready?" I ask, excited to cook with him from scratch for the first time.

"Always," he replies, goofily jogging in place. Such a dork, but I can't help but giggle and give him a tight hug.

"I love you," I say softly, burying my face in his musky scent. It's become my favorite smell, reminding me of our Nikkah day when I felt so safe and at peace. Hassan just feels like home.

"I love you more, baby," he whispers back, holding me close.

"Babe?" Hassan interrupts, snapping me out of my reverie.

"Hmm?" I mumble, still lost in bliss.

"Dinner? Our guests?" he reminds me with a smile.

"SubhanaAllah, my mom's gonna kill me!" I squeal, jumping up to grab pots and pans while Hassan laughs and helps me out.

We had planned the day before to make a simple dish of grilled chicken breast, macaroni and cheese and sautéed mushrooms. I put hassan on mac duty while I took out the chicken and started preparing it to be grilled.

Thirty minutes later, with tongs in hand I carefully place the chicken breasts on the indoor grill as I wait for them to cook. After some time I flip them. The aroma of charred meat fills the air, mingling with the smell of melted cheese that was coming from Hassan's side of the kitchen.

Glancing over at Hassan, I catch his eye as he stands at the counter, a box of macaroni and cheese in hand. He gives me an easy smile as winks at me. Such a flirt.

"How's it going over there?" he calls out, his voice carrying over the noise of the grill.

"Just about ready," I reply, a sense of satisfaction washing over me as I see the chicken nearing perfection. "How's the mac and cheese coming along? Edible?" I teased throwing him a smirk.

Hassan chuckles, his hands busy stirring the noodles in the pot. "We can only hope. Just need to add the cheese sauce."

He lifts the pot from the stove and carefully drains the cooked macaroni, the steam rising in wisps as the water falls down the sink. He transfers the drained noodles into a baking dish, the clinking sound of metal against glass echoing through the kitchen. He then reaches for a bowl of shredded cheese, picking up some of it with eager anticipation. He looked like a kid at a toy store. So endearing.

As he sprinkles the cheese over the bed of noodles, I can't help but let out a laugh because with the way he was sprinkling it, he didn't seem to want to stop.

With the final touches in place, Hassan slides the baking dish into the oven. As the cheese melts and bubbles, filling the kitchen with its aroma, I know that our dinner is almost complete.

I turned the grill off and carefully remove the chicken breasts and placed them on a plate as Hassan too opened the oven , removed the mac and cheese and placed it on the counter to cool.

"Why don't you go freshen up while I sauté the mushrooms. I'll be done in no time and join you in getting ready" I suggested as I took the mushrooms to the tap to rinse them clean. Hassan gave me a nod and a kiss on the head as he left the kitchen.

After rinsing them I heated a skillet on the stove and add a splash of olive oil, the fragrant aroma filling the air as it begins to sizzle.

Carefully, I add the sliced mushrooms to the hot pan, the gentle hiss of the oil intensifying as they make contact. Using a wooden spoon, I stir the mushrooms, making sure they're evenly coated in the savory oil.

As the mushrooms sauté, I sprinkle a pinch of salt and pepper. With the mushrooms perfectly cooked, I turned off the heat and set the skillet aside.

I rinsed my hands and walked upstairs to find hassan already changed standing in-front of the mirror, combing his hair.

"Took you long enough" He said as he abandoned combing his hair and walked towards me to wrap his arms around me to give me a bear hug.

"We were literally together fifteen minutes ago" I replied, feeling giddy from being in his arms again.

"Yes I'm clingy, so?"

I laughed and as I was about to respond the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it, you freshen up" Hassan said pulling away but not before giving me a kiss on the nose.

I hastily walked to the bathroom and after about five minutes I'm done.

As I leave the bathroom , I catch the distant sound of laughter and conversation drifting up from downstairs. The voices of our guests mingle with the soft strains of nasheed, creating a joyful cacophony that fills the house.

A smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I listen, the warmth of their presence seeping into my soul. It's moments like these that remind me of the beauty of togetherness, the simple pleasure of sharing a meal and good company with the ones we love.

With a final glance in the mirror, I smooth down my hijab and adjust my abaya , ready to join the the rest downstairs. As I descend the stairs, the sounds of laughter grow louder, drawing me closer to the heart of the gathering.

With each step, I got eager to reunite with our guests and share in the warmth of their company. As I reach the bottom of the stairs, I step into the bustling energy of the gathering and am greeted with the view of my family.

They lounged in the living room, chatting away like there was no tomorrow. Everyone looked a world away from the stressed faces we wore back at the hospital, and for that, Alhamdulilah.

"Assalamu Alaikum, everyone!" I chimed in, making my way toward the group. They all echoed the greeting in unison.

I rushed to my mom, enveloping her in a hug like I hadn't seen her in ages. She lightly fussed about waiting for me, while I moved on to my dad, planting a kiss on his head as he gave me that twinkly-eyed look, silently mouthing 'ignore her.' Classic Baba.

Next up, my mother-in-law wrapped me in a tight hug, planting a kind kiss on my cheek. We exchanged greetings, and just as we parted, Uncle Musa took my hands, giving them a light tap.

"How are you doing, bint?" he asked.

"Alhamdulilah, I can never complain," I replied with a smile.

Zahra came next, engulfing me in a rocking hug that made me laugh. It was surprising how our bond had grown after burying the hatchet. Once we got over our petty feud, we realized we were more alike than we thought. Since then, she's been the little sister I always wanted.

Speaking of siblings, I plopped down next to Abubakr, laying my head on his shoulder as he playfully inched away from me. His unruly curly hair was tied up in a bun, and he was dressed in a thobe, probably a mom-enforced choice.

"Stay away, gremlin," he teased.

I gasped in mock offense, playfully punching him in the stomach. He laughed, and I scoffed, but he pulled me back down, teasing me about marriage making me sensitive.

We stayed like that for a while, chatting away, until he asked quietly, "How have you been? You're good? How's it been since y'all came back? Hassan doing okay?"

Sweet Abubakr, always protective. And since Hassan and him got closer after we got married, I understood his concern.

"Honestly, I can't complain. Alhamdulilah, we're getting better too. Hassan's been making an effort to get back to how he was before. He's been more vocal about his mental state too. I'm trying to let go of the fear of losing him. Been making a lot of dua though. So all in all, alhamdulilah," I answered truthfully.

And I meant every word. Hassan's been putting in the work, and I'm grateful. Since we got back, he's been opening up more, and I've been doing my best to support him. He even increased his therapy sessions, starting again tomorrow. I'm glad. Alhamdulilah, really.

"Good. I love you, sis, barf," he added, after an afterthought.

"You're so mature," I said sarcastically, sitting up with a smile. "I love you too."

"So, any thoughts on marriage? You haven't scared off all the potentials, right?" I teased, noticing his face reddening.

He groaned, pushing me away lightly. "Get away from me."

I chuckled, realizing it was almost time for Isha prayer. I let everyone know, and we made our way to the prayer room. Zahra and Abia stayed back since Zahra was on her break.

Hassan and I walked side by side, reluctantly parting ways as he went to stand with the men while I joined the women. I watched him take his place at the front, amongst the men . Uncle gestured for him to lead, and we all stood in place as Abubakr recited the call to prayer.

Come to prayer

Come to success

Salah was such a fundamental part of our lives, and I was grateful for the mercy of Allah in allowing us to communicate with him. Once you find solace in prayer, you feel like everything will be okay. Once you have tawakkul in Allah, you trust in all his plans. Once you realize who you're praying to, you realize anything is possible with Allah.

Hassan's deep, melodious voice filled the room as he recited the Quran with tajweed. I felt myself getting emotional, listening to him carefully. But I shook it off. He was here and safe, and that was the most important thing.

As we said our salams, everyone got up to go back to the living room except Hassan and me.

He offered me his hand, and I took it as he pulled me up. He lifted my niqab, gazing at my face silently, his eyes filled with love and warmth as tears welled up in my eyes from the sight. My heart was pounding.

"You're my forever. I prayed for you in sujood. I begged Allah to give me enough time to properly heal to love you as I should," he confessed quietly.

I melted at his words, tears streaming down my face. "The love you're already showing me is enough, wallah," I reassured, cupping his face in my hands.

He looked at me, his gaze soft, and his emerald eyes shimmering. He leaned in for a kiss when my mom's voice broke the moment from the other room.

"Halimah, do you want to starve us?"

We burst out into laughter as we shuffled into the kitchen. At the doorway, I paused, turning back to the living room. "Dinner will be ready in two minutes," I announced before following Hassan, carefully carrying out the food and homemade drinks to the dining table.

A chorus of excitement filled the air as everyone gathered around the table, taking their seats. Hassan settled at the head of the table, and I took my place on his right side.

"Bismillah," Hassan said, signaling for us to begin.

Dinner unfolded beautifully. Surrounded by my family, I felt a sense of peace. Hassan was animatedly chatting with everyone, and I was relieved to see that nobody treated him differently or walked on eggshells around him.

Midway through Hassan's attempt to convince everyone that he made the mac and cheese, a sudden wave of nausea swept over me. Hastily excusing myself, I rushed to the bathroom just in time to empty my stomach into the toilet. It felt like I was purging everything I'd eaten that evening.

After a series of heaves, I stood up, flushed the toilet, and splashed water on my face at the sink. A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts, and before I could respond, my mom barged in as she always did.

Concern etched on her face, she gently touched my cheek. "Habibti, what's wrong?"

"I don't know, Ma. I just felt the urge to throw up and barely made it in time," I replied, sighing.

She scrutinized me for a moment before her eyes sparkled with excitement. "Have you been feeling tired lately, habibti? Backaches? Sleepiness?"

"Yeah, but that's just the stress over Hassan. It'll pass," I reassured her.

I saw a smile form on her face as she nodded then gave me a hug. I returned her hug in confusion as she told me to freshen up before leaving me alone in the bathroom.

After washing my hands and adjusting my veil, I rejoined the table. Hassan leaned in, whispering, "Are you okay? Where did you go?"

"Yeah, just a quick bathroom trip," I whispered back, not wanting to worry him unnecessarily. Hassan had a knack for fussing over me if he found out I wasn't feeling well.

As we resumed eating, I found myself picking at my food, lacking appetite for some inexplicable reason. Across the table, I noticed my mom and mother-in-law exchanging excited whispers. I couldn't help but wonder what they were discussing.

After dinner, Hassan and I cleared the table, joining the others in the living room. After about ten minutes, our fathers announced it was time to leave.

We bid farewell to our guests, my mother showering me with affectionate kisses on the cheeks before they departed.

Back inside the house, Hassan and I climbed the stairs to our room. I changed into my pajamas while Hassan did the same, then we descended downstairs to lock up and turn off the lights.

As we settled into bed, Hassan pulled me close, reciting Ayatul Kursi before we drifted off to sleep. In the quiet of the night, I heard him call my name softly.

"Yes?" I responded, waiting for a reply. When none came, I cracked open one eye to find him already sleeping above me, his face serene in slumber.

A soft smile played on my lips as I watched him. "Goodnight, my light," I whispered gently, closing my eyes and surrendering to the darkness.

~

Assalamu alaikum x

I wrote sm subhana'Allah, I outdid myself 😂😭.

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P.S Where is Ramadan flying to?😭