2 and a half years later.

Time halted in the most unknown ways, at the most unknown places. Time had flown by so fast that I barely had time to process things as they were. Time ruins, sometimes, but time does heal at all costs. The stitches do seal a reminder for the rest of all your life, but it also exists to make you stronger.

My frail, perfectly sculpted wrists pulled my hair up in a ponytail, the whimsical winds playing with the curtain bangs that escaped my grasp. My hair gently grazed my slightly exposed back, caressing my skin as if to tease my endless train of thoughts.

The sun was yet to disappear behind the clouds that threatened to rain, and I soaked in the last of the bright rays, closing my eyes and sighing. The birds silently murmured in approval at my small attempt at self-care, and I looked down to spot the usual beautiful pathways of Italy.

Italy embraced me in its warmth and aromas of pizza from the nearby bakery, garlic and spices being openly grinded at a distance adding a sense of cultured vintage setting to my environment. I looked up, and closed my eyes again, awaiting a gush of wind to take away another stress of my tensed muscles. I relaxed under my own weight, inhaling a deep rush of peace.

I held on to the railings, taking in the smell of rain as I watched the city's clouds infront of me. The balcony was big enough to accomodate our entire family, and I'd turned it into an indoor garden. Roses of all sorts lined up the right lane, with other flowers like jasmines, forget-me-nots filling up the left lane. As if the overlooking views of Castellucio was not breathtaking enough, mine and Zaidaan's balcony in itself, combined with the naturally beautiful views the town of Umbrio offered, was a show-stopper.

Though less populated, I and Zaid managed to find our home in Castellucio, Umbrio. We travelled to many, many places, migrating like nomads because Zaid could work from anywhere and I wanted to go everywhere with him and our daughter.

Muskaan, now a very chubby and talkative two year old, was a sight to behold. Watching her grow, my heart couldn't help but explode at everything she did, from throwing tantrums to random cuddles she shared with the two of us.

Past two years had been difficult, my treatment had taken up a toll on me, and equally on Zaid. The bullet was ruthless, and it mercilessly managed to damage my lower abdomen. Mamma told me, just last year, that I had closely met death, but Alhamdulillah had fought back to life.

My train of reminiscing thoughts came to a dead end when I heard a shuffling behind me,

"Mamam?"

The instant smile on my face was never less at Muskaan's baby voice, her habit of uttering a word longer than it actually is making it all the more beautiful.

I turned to my baby daughter, who stood nibbling her bottom lip, a sign that she was hungry. She'd taken to calling me 'Mamam' instead of 'Mamma' just because she couldn't stop repeatedly calling me when she was a few months old. I didn't correct her, to me, it was way more a lively name than anything else she'd ever call me.

"Yes, my baby? Did you jump down the the crib again?"

Her tousled hair gave away the mischeif she'd recently started doing, and Muskaan gave me a sheepish smile before pomping away, and I followed her lead, picking her up in my arms half-way.

I dropped a kiss on the side of her head as she swayed her arms about in dramatic notions, blabbering away on things only she and I could understand. Her speech was fine, even though she stuck on a few words that were quite difficult. Muskaan was a smart child, always observing the way everyone behaved around her.

Once I had fed her, I scooped her up and said,

"Muskaan, let's get ready before your Baba comes back, okay?"

"Okay!" She threw her arms up with a goofy smile, her almond eyes crinkling at the sides. Kissing her cheek, I set her down on the side of our jacuzzi,

"Mamam, ghazal!"

I gave a small laugh and shook my head, "Not now, meri jaan."

Muskaan Ayesha Farooq had the most beautiful way of entrancing everyone around her, especially me, as she knew her small pout would never get a 'no' from her Mamam's side.

And so, I gave her a defeated look as water filled around her in the jacuzzi.

An year and a half ago, while I was recovering, Husna had taken it upon herself to give Muskaan a bath. Though Sahar bhabhi had always accompanied, scared that Muskaan might slip, it was Husna who paid utmost attention to baby Muskaan's bath. And of course, in casual Husna fashion, she'd recited poetry to keep Muskaan from crying and have her attention. Muskaan had love dher Khala Husna's mini poetic tales, and six months later when I took back the job, she wouldn't stop crying during bath time.

Confused, when it didn't stop for a month straight, I had called up home and asked, and when I recited a few familiar verses, she was quiet and happy again.

And this time, was no different.

Carressing her soft baby skin as she splashed water everywhere, I began,

"Mai teri surat liye zamane mein phira,"

Muskaan, widened her eyes at my voice, making it clear that she had heard this one somewhere as I continued,

"Saari duniya mein magar koi tere jaisa na tha."

I kissed her forehead, the water dripping as she played with the strings on my robe,

"Aaj milne ki khushi mein sirf mai jaaga nahiin,"

I wrapped her up in a towel, picking her up,

"Teri aankhon se bhi lagta hai ke tu soya na tha."

My daughter gently slipped her hands inside the bathrobe that I held out for her, and I tied the laces in the front, straightening out her short curls at the end,

"Ye sabhi viiraniyan uske juda hone se thi,"

She listened to me intently, and I knew she'd be seated there as long as I recited, even if she understood absolutely nothing. I slipped the satin robes off me, as they gracefully fell off, and my slender shoulders bent forward as the air hit my pale skin,

"Aankh dhundlayi hui thi shahar dhundhlaya na tha."

I gently, yet in a velocity I previously hadn't adapted myself to, scrubbed my skin with the softest of fragrances and the richest of oils, smoothening out the dull aches of my collar bones and elbows with the warm water,

"Saikdon tuufaan lafzo mei dabe the zer-e-lab,"

As I stepped out and wrapped a towel around me, Muskaan raised her hands, motioning for me to pick her up. I did, and we made our way to the dresser,

"Ek patthar tha khamoshi ka, ke jo haT-ta na tha."

We heard the key turning from a distance, and Muskaan squealed.

He was finally home.

I hurriedly dressed Muskaan in her father's favourite pink frock, placing a soft, cotton headband with a bow on top, and eased out the creases in her dress. Her hair had thankfully dried, and just as I placed her down, the door to our room opened.

"Darling!" I heard his voice call out.

It took Muskaan less than a second to rush out of my light hold, throwing the dresser's already slightly ajar door completely open, and run in her father's embrace,

"Baba!"

Zaidaan Ibrahim Farooq picked our daughter up in his arms and twirled her around, Muskaan's gleeful laughter echoing in our duplex apartment.

He kissed her nose and she laughed,

"Your beard!" She said between her laughs, and Zaidaan nuzzled her closer, knowing full well his beard tickled her.

My heart was not in its right place in that moment, and looking at their mini-reunion, I was sure to fall down at his affection with our daughter.

He then placed her back on her feet, and she tip-toed to kiss his cheek as he asked,

"Jaano, where's Baba's darling?"

I blushed even if he hadn't seen me, and I sighed quietly at the way he asked her the question, despite me chiding him a million times for calling me 'darling' infront of Muskaan. He'd straight up denied my claims, saying, 'You are my darling, behind and infront of our child. If they don't know what their father calls their mother with love, who else will?'

The said child now gave a cheeky smile,

"Mamam's there!" She pointed my way.

The open door seemed like an entrance awaiting his entry, and his gaze seemed like a person lost in a desert, searching for an oasis, searching for my eyes.

Our eyes met, and the usual shocks cascaded down my spine in batches. My lips parted, the gasp hitching midway in my oesophagus. His eyes painfully tore away from mine, distractedly travelling down my body.

Blood rushed to my face, my exposed legs, for the bathrobe ended right below my knees, not helping my state, my fingers circling around my wrists in anticipated anxiety, and all I said was,

"Zaidaan,"

It was way below a whisper, but I knew his ears could hear this call of his name from octaves away, and he instinctively stepped forward, eyeing me with a rush of emotions in his eyes,

"Muskaan?"

The toddler was now busy playing with one of her teddy bears,

"Hmm?"

He turned to her, and kissed the top of her head,

"I've kept your chocolates right over there."

He pointed towards a small flower vase not far from our room,and Muskaan picked her teddy and ran towards it, completely forgetting her parents.

Zaidaan now turned towards me, a devilishly handsome smirk on his lips,

"I wondered," he spoke, and I looked away, stepping back as he continued,

"if I could dress Mamma up today?"

He stepped forward, and I daringly took a step ahead,

"Mamma only dresses up with Muskaan."

He chuckled, leaning against the doorframe,

"Mamma is shy, really? Even after all these years?"

I rolled my eyes, and he closed the door slightly behind him, leaving it open enough for me to watch Muskaan.

"Zaidaan," I said, a warning edge to my voice.

He stood only inches away from me,

"Yes, darling?"

I blushed and shook my head, "You're crazy!"

He just smiled and pulled me closer by my arms, and I clutched his sky blue shirt in my palms, my gaze focused on the way his blazer hugged his biceps. He leaned his head against mine,

"You look beautiful today," he breathed into my ears, and I unknowingly pulled him closer. I chuckled when we locked eyes, blushing under his gaze as his smiled,

"Isn't this a lovely sight to come home to?"

I shook my head, burying my head in his chest,

"It isn't."

"Shhh," I heard him whisper as his cold fingers traced my cheek,

"It is."

I pushed his face away from the crook of my neck, staring into his pretty orbs,

"I missed you."

"And I love you."

I smiled at his reply, and he smiled back, kissing the palm of my hand and closing his eyes. I shifted closer, resting my head right above his heart.

I took in a deep breath; an attempt he knew was to breath him.

And that was when our tiny little moment was interrupted when Muskaan barged in, chocolate smothered around her lips,

"Mamam! Dress up! Come, dress up with Muskaan!"

I laughed as we pulled away, Ziadaan a bit groggily, and I picked her up in my arms, seating her on the soft barstools.

Zaidaan put an arm around Muskaan,

"Jaan, can Baba help you and Mamam today?"

She faked to contemplate her answer, eventhough it was written all over her face,

"Yes!"

He looked at me with an innocent smile,

"Well, good."

He would never change. I turned towards my wardrobe when Zaidaan stopped me, coming forward and swiftly sweeping out a silk magenta sundress with fluffy chiffon sleeves.

He held it out for Muskaan to see,who jumped up, her eyes in glee. Muskaan loved her Mamam's clothes, and this one seemed to be her new favourite,

"Muskaan likes! Mamam, pwease wear it!"

I kissed the top of her head, and she excitedly rushed out to give her mother space, and Zaidaan caught me in an embrace yet again.

I looked at the dress, and knowing full well it was new, I asked,

"Where did this come from?"

He kissed my eyelids, "Happy Anniversary to you too, darling."

Three years to our wedding! Of course I remembered, but since I hadn't given him a gift yet, I knew he thought I'd forgotten. None of usually forget important dates, and so he probably knew I was upto something.

I practically pushed him out the door and his laughter boomed in the house, as he and Muskaan made their way down.

And then, I finally exhaled a long breath, turning around to dress up. Let's get this done, Bismillah!

***

"Sahil, Sahifa! Look here!" I called out as Zaidaan waved at my family on video call, with Muskaan staring at them shyly.

Sahil gave toothy smile and Sahifa, now nearly ten, said her salaam and moved away, the once naughty litlle girl now a quiet, understanding young girl.

It was no denying that I missed them, and it was pretty obvious they did it too. Fariyal appeared behind Husna, and I shifted Muskan up so that she is clearly seen, and Fariyal smiled, nodding,

"Muskaan, say something. Why are you so shy?"

The two year old all but buried her head in my shoulder, sucking her thumb before an idea hit her, and she stuck her tongue out before leaping from my lap and running away.

Fariyal and Khalifa Bhaiya laughed, and Husna stuck her tongue back out.

We talked for a bit more before hanging up, and Zaidaan then called up my in-laws.

I sighed as Muskaan came back and sprawled on my lap, cradling her own fluffed toy. Things were pretty rocky in the beginning with Zaidaan's side of the family. With Abaan's deeds added upon mine and Fariyal's misery, Tayajaan had taken the case upon himself. As a result of it, Abaan had divorced Fariyal. Fariyal had denied a divorce in the beginning, but when he'd tried another move to try and get Muskaan's parent-ship back, she initiated the divorce. It took nearly four months to get the divorce, and another three months for Abaan to be sent away, but this time he went on his own, swearing to never return.

He was out of our lives for good, and I couldn't have been happier.

It took us a long time to get back on normal terms with each other, and owing no anger and resent against each other, we all forgave each other and ourselves, somehow going back to what we were; a family.

Inaya had proceeded take up her Masters, and had stayed with us last year while we were in Australia. Sami Bhai had stuck to his word, and kept in touch with me to get updates on Inaya. He was waiting, and I didn't know when, but I hoped they would unite soon.

"Happy anniversary to my favourite couple!" Inaya said in a sing-song voice, and Muskaan gave her a flying kiss for some reason. Me and Zaid smiled, it felt like home.

Asma Baji's four year old son, Wahed, and her one year old daughter, Afra were seated behind Inaya, both loud. As Zaidaan tried getting Afra's attention, she burst into tears and Inaya had to move the camera away to calm her down.

Ammi, Abbu and Tayajaan blessed us with prayers and a while later, we made our way out in the balcony to have dinner.

Per usual anniversary celebration, we ordered a bit too much for two people and a toddler. Muskaan all but threw her food everywhere in her attempts at 'eating' by herself. For once, we ate in silence, with the clutter of utensils and Muskaan's screeches being the only noise disturbing the silent night air.

I was lost in thoughts, and a part of me knew Zaidaan was thinking the same thing as me. Though the

Abaan-phase of our life was practically over, it had an impact on us. We grew out of it, yes, but as much as we tried, it came back at random times. And this time,it seemed to come back on our third anniversary dinner.

I thought of Fariyal. She didn't really take it all well, and she was still struggling to move on. She refused to do literally anything with her life, and everyone was tired of making her see the sense she turned a blindeye to. She went into therapy, and eventhough it ended just a few months back and she talked more now, I knew it wasn't the same for her.

Husna was the only person throughout these years who remained the same. And she was my key to sanity, to know that she still is the same, still strong, still there, forever there for me.

Zaidaan sighed infront of me, and I dropped my spoon,

"I don't think we can eat in this mood,"

He looked down and sheepishly smiled,

"Right. Let's just skip to dessert."

I chuckled when I noticed he ordered pancakes of all things, and he smiled as he fed me a piece.

I held is hand in mine, kissed the top of Muskaan's head, and looked at him.

In that moment, a rush of wind enveloped us in its mercy, foolishly claiming to hide us from the stars. And in that moment, despite imperfections, I was grateful.

I was complete.

***

Once Muskaan was put to bed, I leaned against Zaid's shoulder. He placed his hand on mine, and I laced my fingers with his.

I had to tell him now, but every second I tried, my heart thudded against my chest, fearing his reaction.

It took me seven minutes to muster up the courage to finally ask him,

"Zaid?"

Eyes closed, he hummed in response.

I shifted so that I was facing him,

"I got a call from the adoption centre."

His heard slightly jerked up, and he furrowed his eyebrows,

"W-what?"

I clutched my phone tightly,

"Yeah. Remember a few months ago we'd spoken to some authorities? Well, one of them called back a week ago. They said there's a baby if we'd like to adopt."

I said it all in a go, and I watched as his eyes went from confusion to realization to an excited, cheery shine. He leaned ahead,

"Is it a boy or a girl?"

I bit the side of my lip, "A girl."

He was up in a second, and lifted me in his arms, twirling me around, his laughter booming in the silent apartment.

I instantly shushed him,

"Zaidaan! Quiet! Muskaan will wake up!"

He placed me down and cupped my cheeks,

"Did you say yes?"

I nodded, "I said yes."

He silenced me by closing the gap between us, before letting go and leaning his head against me,

"Thank you."

I shook my head against his forehead,

"We deserve this."

He closed his eyes, "We do."

I traced his eyelashes with my finger tips, and Allah knows how long we stood like that, happiness oozing from us, but I knew there was only one word booming in both our heads,

Alhamdulillah.

I kept your face in my mind and searched everywhere, no one in this world, however, was like you.

It doesn't seem like I was the only one who was up all night, anticipating the moment we will meet, your eyes tell me, that you haven't slept all night either.

Ye sabhi viiraniyan uske juda hone se thi,