43. 𝑫𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒚, 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒏𝒈?

He snuggled himself closer to me, burying his entire body into the soft folds of the comforter. I could feel the warmth radiating from his skin as his arm draped lazily over my waist.

"Come closer," he mumbled, his voice barely audible. I couldn't help but smile at his request, though I wasn't sure how much closer we could possibly get.

"I will, habibi," I whispered back, my voice soft and reassuring. "Just let me finish this up." I glanced at the screen in front of me, the blinking cursor mocking me for procrastinating yet again. I had weeks to write this essay, but, true to my nature, I had waited until the last possible moment to complete it.

I recently started my Master's in criminal psychology, and it has been nothing short of stressful. The workload is intense, but it's more focused compared to my undergraduate years. Even though the pressure is high, the deeper insights and specialization in criminal psychology keep me motivated. Plus, knowing that the program is shorter than my uni years helps me push through the stress.

As I typed the final words, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. Within minutes, the essay was finally submitted. The weight that had been pressing down on my shoulders lifted. I shut my laptop with a soft click and placed it on the bedside table, eager to finally relax next to Hassan.

Before I could settle in, the door creaked open. Standing there, with his tiny figure framed by the light of the hallway, was Zayd. He looked absolutely adorable in his light gray onesie, his favorite teddy bear clutched tightly in his small arms.

Hassan turned slightly, curious to see who had entered. Together, we watched in quiet amusement as Zayd struggled to hoist his teddy bear onto the bed. The bear was nearly as big as he was, but Zayd wasn't one to give up easily. With a triumphant "oomph," he finally succeeded in getting both himself and the bear up onto the bed. Once settled between Hassan and me, he placed his teddy on top of my closed laptop as if it belonged there.

Zayd had been downstairs with Abubakr, who had come over to help me out with some errands. I had been preoccupied with Hassan, who hadn't been doing well mentally. In fact, I had asked Abubakr for help with the grocery shopping since I didn't want to leave Hassan alone. He agreed, of course, with one condition: I had to lend him my car afterward, typical.  At this point he drove the car more than me.

Now that Zayd was here, he served as a reminder of all the things I still had to do. There was the grocery list, something I had promised to finish before Abubakr headed out.

"I'll be back baby," I said softly, leaning down to give Hassan a quick peck on the nose. "I have to finish writing the grocery list for Abubakr."

As I pulled away, I noticed Hassan's cheeks flush slightly. A shy, sweet reaction I had come to love. In return, he leaned in and gave me a gentle peck back, his silent acknowledgment that he understood. Meanwhile, Zayd, full of energy and curiosity, turned toward his father, crawling closer until his tiny hands tried to cradle Hassan's face.

Hassan's expression softened instantly, his tired eyes lighting up as Zayd's little fingers clumsily cupped his cheeks. I sat there for a moment, silently observing.

"Daddy, what wong?" Zayd asked, his small voice filled with concern as he peered down at his father. His curious eyes searched Hassan's face, trying to make sense of the emotions he saw but didn't quite understand.

Hassan let out a slow breath before answering, his voice soft. "Daddy's just a bit sad, buddy."

"Sad? Like cwy and stuff?" Zayd asked, his innocence on full display as he tried to wrap his mind around the concept of sadness. For him, sadness was something simple—something tied to tears and immediate emotions, nothing more complex than that.

"A little," Hassan replied vaguely, obviously not wanting to burden him with the weight of his feelings.

Zayd's brow furrowed in confusion as he tried to comprehend what his father had said. "Gwon ups get sad?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, as if the very idea seemed impossible to him. In his little world, grown-ups, especially parents, were invincible—superheroes who never succumbed to the challenges of life. He hadn't yet learned that adults, too, were vulnerable to the ups and downs of emotions. After all, parents instinctively shield their children from the harsh realities of life, protecting their innocence for as long as possible.

May Allah bless our parents for doing the same for us, I thought quietly.

"Sometimes," Hassan replied gently. "But I'll be fine, In Shaa Allah."

Zayd wasn't fully satisfied with the answer. He shifted closer to his dad, like a man on a mission. Hassan and I watched silently as Zayd made a comical attempt to lift his father's head up, his small arms straining under the weight. Hassan, noticing his effort, offered some assistance, lifting his head for Zayd while still allowing the boy to feel like he was in control.

As soon as Hassan's head was raised, Zayd let out an exaggerated, exhausted breath, as if the task had taken all of his strength. The sound was so unexpectedly funny that both Hassan and I burst into laughter. Zayd, with his serious expression, clearly hadn't intended it to be funny, but seeing us laugh, a shy smile crept across his face.

With a newfound sense of responsibility, Zayd wriggled his way underneath Hassan's head, creating a makeshift pillow with his small lap. Hassan gently rested his head on Zayd's legs, careful not to let the full weight of his head press down.

"You can cwy if you want now, Daddy," Zayd said sweetly, his tiny voice filled with such tenderness. He leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on Hassan's forehead, the gesture so innocent and pure that it tugged at my heartstrings.

In that moment, I felt the flood of emotions rise inside me. Tears began to well up in my eyes, and I knew I had to leave before either one of them noticed. I didn't want to interrupt this intimate exchange between father and son.

Quietly, I got up from the bed, trying to make my exit as discreet as possible. But just as I was walking away, I heard Hassan's voice, low and trembling with emotion. "Love you, twin," he whispered.

"I love you too!" Zayd responded in his bright, chirpy voice, the innocence in his tone making my heart ache with love.

With tears now rolling freely down my cheeks, I smiled through the emotion and whispered softly to myself, "Alhamdulillah."

Yes, there are hard days. Especially for Hassan. It's not always easy to hide from Zayd when Hassan is going through an episode. Some episodes are better than others—some darker, heavier—but we are taking it one step at a time. And through it all, we hold fast to the knowledge that Allah is with us every step of the way.

My Hassan is one of the strongest people I know. Even in his struggle, he shows resilience and grace. May Allah protect him for me, always. And Zayd, our beautiful addition, fits perfectly into the puzzle of our lives. Since his arrival, he has brought light to places we didn't even realize were dim. Hassan's depression has been improving, Alhamdulillah. Even Sam noted the change. He pointed out that Hassan is in such a better place mentally now. His reliance on medication has decreased, and his determination to take control of his disorder has grown stronger and stronger. Sam mentioned that this shift became most apparent when Zayd was born. It's as if Zayd's arrival gave Hassan a renewed sense of purpose, a reason to fight the darkness more fiercely than before.

Each day is a new challenge, but also a new opportunity for growth. With Allah's guidance, and with the love that binds us as a family, I know we'll make it through.

"Halimah!"

The sudden shout pulled me out of my thoughts, jolting me back to reality. I hadn't even realized I'd been standing at the top of the stairs, lost in my own world.

"Coming!" I called back, wiping my face quickly with the sleeve of my sweatshirt before making my way down the stairs.

When I walked into the kitchen, I was greeted by the familiar sight of Abu standing by the counter, drinking straight from a carton of apple juice—right from the mouth, no glass in sight.

"Abu!" I said, my tone laced with annoyance as I approached him. It was a recurring argument between us. Without hesitation, I swatted him lightly on the chest when he finally finished.

"What?" He shrugged, offering his usual defense. "It was practically empty."

I rolled my eyes, exasperated by his casual dismissal. Abu and I had been having this same back-and-forth for years, and while it annoyed me, it was also one of those silly habits of his that had become part of our dynamic.

Shaking my head, I walked further into the kitchen, toward the microwave where I had left my incomplete grocery list earlier. The list sat there next to a pen, waiting for me to finish it. I perched myself on one of the counter stools and began scribbling down the remaining items, occasionally getting up to double-check what we needed. I was determined to make sure nothing was forgotten. When I reached the bottom of the list, I paused for a moment before adding 'Apple juice' with a glare in Abu's direction.

"Here," I said, holding out the grocery list to him. But Abu didn't even glance up from his phone. He was completely absorbed in whatever was on his screen, utterly indifferent to the fact that I was standing there waiting for him to take the list.

I stood there for a moment, watching him, waiting for any sign of acknowledgment. Nothing.

Sighing, I turned toward the sink and ran my hand under the water for a second, an idea forming in my mind. Without drying my fingers, I walked back over to him, a mischievous hum escaping my lips as I reached his side.

In one quick motion, I flung my wet fingers into his face, flicking the water droplets at him repeatedly. His reaction was instant—he jumped back in shock, his face twisting into a scowl as he realized what had happened.

"Seriously?" he grumbled, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "A husband and one kid later, and you're still... you."

I let out a laugh at his comment. Without saying anything, I pointed to the grocery list I had placed on the counter before heading over to the sink. Then, I grabbed my car key from the keyholder and fished my card out of my purse, placing both on top of the list for Abu.

I watched as he reached for the keys with a grin, clearly eager to get going, but before his fingers could touch the rings, I swiftly clasped them in my hand. His expression turned confused as he looked at me, then down at the list. When his eyes landed on the paper, he chuckled, realizing why I was being cautious.

The list wasn't long, but it was extremely detailed. Each item had specific instructions—brands, sizes, and little notes scribbled beside them. Things like, "If there isn't a large size, ask an attendant for it. And If it's out of stock, get two of the next size down." Abu had a habit of grabbing the first thing he saw, so I had learned to make my lists as foolproof as possible. This wasn't our first rodeo.

He shook his head with a laugh, folding the list and slipping it into his pocket along with my card. He looked back at me, clearly ready to head out the door, but I held the keys just a little longer.

Fixing him with a mock-serious look, I leaned forward and said, "If I see even a scratch on my car, I will harm you."

Abu grinned, shaking his head at my threat, but the gleam in his eyes said he knew I was only half-joking.

He rolled his eyes at my warning and extended his hand toward me with a smirk, clearly amused by my attempt at being serious. I couldn't help but roll my eyes back at him, but there was a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

"Go, go," I said, playfully shooing him away, watching as he left. Once he was out of sight, I turned back to the pantry, feeling a sudden craving for something sweet and salty. I grabbed a pack of chocolate chip cookies, a bag of Cheetos, and some strawberry milk—my go-to snacks when I needed comfort food.

With everything in hand, I made my way to the front door, locking it before heading upstairs. My mind was already drifting toward the thought of curling up in bed with my two favorite people, sharing snacks and maybe even drifting off to sleep together.

When I reached the bedroom, I quietly opened the door, expecting to find them awake and ready to join me in the snack fest. But the sight that greeted me made me stop in my tracks.

There, partially covered by the comforter, were Hassan and Zayd, fast asleep. Zayd's small arm was wrapped around his father's neck, his little body pressed close. Hassan had his larger arm protectively around Zayd, holding him close in the most tender embrace. They both looked so peaceful, so content, completely wrapped up in each other's warmth.

I felt my heart swell, and a pout formed on my lips as I took in the adorable scene.

Not wanting to disturb them, I tiptoed into the room, carefully placing the snacks on Hassan's bedside table. Then, I slipped onto the bed behind him, gently spooning him from behind. I placed my arm over both of them as much as I could, holding them close. The comfort of being wrapped up with my two favorite people, my heart and my home, was overwhelming.

With my eyes closed and my body cocooned in their warmth, I let sleep overtake me, feeling completely at peace. This was everything.

~

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