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[Eid Special]

FAIZAN
[18 months later]

“Eid Mubarak, my son!” Farhan says after we step out of the mosque after offering our Eid prayer. He steps forward with his arms wide open, “come on. Hug your man.”

“I’m not your son,” I tell him.

“Shhh. hug first, debate later,”

“There is no debate,”

“Ya Allah! Just give me my hug. People are watching,”

I shake my head at his dramaticness and accept the hug, returning it as well.

“This is nice,” Farhan says after a few seconds.

“This is enough,” I say, pulling away.

“I got my yearly dose,”

“Do you hear the words that come out of your mouth?”

“I know I have a beautiful vocabulary.” He proudly says, “Yes, I will teach Maham,”

“No.”

“I will take no charge. Don’t worry,”

“I’m leaving,” I say and turn around to head to my car.

“Hey! I wasn't done talking!” he calls out before he follows.

“We’re meeting for brunch later, I’ll listen to your nonsense then,” I say and unlock my car.

“Do you think I will give you my attention when my adorable niece and nephew are present? You think too highly of yourself, son,”

I sigh, “are you done?”

“I will never be done but I’ll let you go. I can’t handle a grumpy Faizan who misses his wife and daughter. That’s a nightmare,” he says, “the brunch is at two, right?”

“Yes,”

“Alright. Off you go now,” he says and walks away to his bike.

I get in my car, start the engine and start driving back home, eager to see my wife and daughter.

I stop by the flower shop to get flowers as usual before resuming my drive to the house.

I park my car in the garage and step out to head inside.

I find the living room empty as I step inside. So, I make my way to our bedroom where I find Maham seated on the bed, dressed in a beautiful pastel green kurti and gharara with light golden embroidery, her small hands decorated with golden bangles that she is inspecting with a determined gaze. Her hair is nicely clipped back with golden clips.

“Assalamu Alaikum, najm,” I greet her, quickly earning her attention.

“Baba!” she lifts her arms up, a gummy grin on her face as she stares up at me.

I put the flowers aside and pick her up, cradling her in my arms. I place a gentle kiss on her cheek, “you look so beautiful,” I tell her, earning a heartfelt giggle.

I smile, “where’s ammi?”

Maham points behind me and just then, I hear the bathroom door unlocking. I turn around and catch my beautiful wife walk out in a stunning green kurti trousers which matches the color of my thobe. The ends of her sleeves and kurti are embroidered with golden patterns. Her hair is down, her face beautiful as ever.

“Assalamu Alaikum,” she greets with a smile.

“Wale kum Assalam,” I kiss her cheek as she steps closer, “you look lovely, amar,”