A/N - This is the Final Chapter.

Hope you are ready...

My heart ached every time I thought of her, every time I unconsciously mentioned her name, every time I look into Layan and Ibrahim, and today wasn't any different. I looked for Period—the end.

The time I would move on, a fix, a solution to my heartache. There was non I will grieve and for how long I will grieve. There is no glue for my broken heart, no exile for my pain, no going back in time.

"Salam Alaikum doctor gorgeous," Ibrahim teased.

I breathe, "Did she ate, is she happy, right now, does she miss me as much as I miss her ?" I asked him as soon as I saw his face that in a matter of a few years all my defences laid down for him. "Do you think this is my punishment for what I did to you for going against my instinct and going for revenge, do you think that how I get punished ?"

"Stop this, Wahaj" He shut his eyes tightly, his chest heaves he seems to be as broken as I was, but he hid it well, "Inshallah our daughter is in Jannah. No fatigue, nor disease, nor sorrow, nor sadness, nor hurt, nor distress would befall her. She is happier than we could ever be Wahaj." He softly smile toward me, as he quickly touches his eyes to remove the tear that was placed on his face.

His voice became steady again, "Come on, go get ready, the whole family is waiting downstairs." He orders.

"I am not going," I respond.

He quirks an eyebrow. "Why not? After all these years, after all these trials, for this certificate that you worked so damned hard for." I walk from where I stood as I went toward him and pushed him out of the room as I locked that door.

"Dammit, Wahaj, open this door." He spoke, "Please," He begs.

My throat is as dry as a dessert, but I found the words, "Ibrahim, please don't push this. take Layan for icecream or something but leave me here."

He huffs and leans on the door, hissing. "Fine," His voice seemed to give up.

"Mama," A voice spoke through the door, and I could swear that I heard Lila as I rushed to open the door.

My expression softens, "L-layan," I hissed.

She nods. "Make her proud,"

With those simple words, my heart seemed to pound in my chest a little louder as I gaze toward Ibrahim, "Sorry, I had to bring the big guns," He looks at me unapologetically.

"You're so mean," I grumbled as I stare into his sights.

He smiled and handed me a picture taken from Lila's camera, and it was her with her kind smile and a hand gesture of a thumbs up posing in front of my figure behind her as I wore my lab coat to go to the hospital as my mouth was shoved with food. "Make her proud," He murmured.

I couldn't let the tears flow in front of these two because I knew we wouldn't stop crying if we did. My heart broke, but all I whispered was.

'Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'oon (To Allah we belong and to Him we will return.)

*************

In a matter of an hour, I finished getting ready, wearing minimal make-up with a caped embellished organza flowy dress that comes with a crew neck. To top it off, I wore my white hijab. I wore what he bought for this occasion. 

"Did I tell you today that you look beautiful?" was the first thing Ibrahim told me when I came downstairs to the view of his parents, Ahmad, Mellisa's five kids, Layan, and Ibrahim, my husband.

I looked thoughtful for a second as I laughed, "Nope, it was gorgeous that you used earlier."

He growled and got my hands before he kissed it, humming when I pulled away. A few moments later, we pulled inside the three cars to get to the graduation cermoney.

When we got into the ceremony, as I held into Ibrahim's hand as he held into our daughters, there were soft whispers in the crowd of students as well as parents as we entered. Even though the scandal was a few years ago, it was still distinguished to them.

The big names didn't disappear so quickly, and the judgment in their faces didn't either. I looked apologetically into his eyes, and he looked at me the same way. The rude awakening seemed to tell us that even with our many false, we were just as toxic together as we were right for each other.

No prince was charming, it was only a matter of compromising on each side so we could make the marriage work, not only for us but for our daughters - our daughter. 

I was disturbed from my thoughts by the sudden appearance of Aisha with her toddler that isn't a toddler anymore but a ten-year-old girl. My two aunts, Khaled,and my cousin(Eylul).

Ayaaz joined the military since his anger issues with his mother's sudden death and me not accepting his proposal took a turn and he decided it was best to get away. 

"Congratulations doctor," Aisha greeted as I came in for a hug, "Don't forget the small people, when you become rich and successful, Inshallah." 

Aisha is one of my most genuine friends. No matter the days or the years that we don't see each other. When we meet again, it is as if everything is forgotten and we are back from where we left off. When I need her, she was there, and when she needed me, I tried to be there for her.

"She isn't a doctor yet," Ibrahim interpreted jokingly, "Don't discourage her from going to that stage and getting her degree."

"Sorry, buddy," She spoke before she teased him, "Congratulation Doctor Joje."

I laughed as I looked over for Layan who was already playing with Khaled, my aunt's son. When I looked at Layan, I rubbed at the ache in my chest, something that was always there and probably would still be.

It was sort of a reminder that she was with me in some way, and that I would never forget my daughter. As I left them be and went into the graduate seats, I glance at them between moments to check if they were there.

How much I wish Mama Ghada could see me now. How I want Lila to see me. How I wish my father didn't do what he did. How I hoped he could be in the audience even after everything. But he wasn't. They weren't here.

All I could do was smile and say Alhamdulillah for everything in my life. The good and the bad. Some were blessings, and some were lessons that no matter how you get in life, it was only a test, and the only place I could be pleased was in the hereafter with her. 

I shuddered, still unable to handle thinking about her and shaking those thoughts away as my name was being called as a Valedictorian.

I could hear the crowds cheer as well as facilities and students as I was going to make the speech. I practised for years for the statement. I put my whole life for that certificate, but it seemed dismissable when I think of how many hours I could have spent with Lila. Instead of working my hardest to get this degree, oh how I yearned as I stood in the stage and Professor Lee began to introduce me.

"Graduates, honoured guests, parents, and friends, Chamberlain's College welcomes you to 2020's graduation ceremony. We're going to call the students up so they can receive their certificates. For now, we you're going to hear from one student who is not only one of those considered to be an exceptional student but also this year's valedictorian. Valedictorian for every year she has attended. For now, though, let us begin," she started.

I finished my speech with a few hiccups since I didn't practice it too well. The statement didn't consist of anything personal. I only spoke about our journey in medical school since this was a day for every medical student, and after the clapping finished, I watched my mentor begin to work through the list of the graduates. Professor Lee had offered me the chance to work under her after the professor suspension. Rosie Chamberlain also presented to me the opportunity to study masters and continue in her school, but I refused.

"Wahaj Muhammad," Professor Lee called out, pride evident in her voice.

I rose on shaky feet, and Camila reached out and grabbed my hand to help steady me. I shot her a grateful look as I locked my knees and forced myself to walk to my mentor, smile on my face. The crowd behind me was going wild, all on their feet.

I blushed, but I was so damned proud of myself that I didn't let it bother me. Rosie smiled at me as she handed me the certificate of completion.

"Congratulation, Wahaj," she told me. I nodded and thanked her before turning to the crowd as I looked toward my family, and Layan took a photo with her camera, and I smiled as I headed towards my seat.

************

As the ceremony ended and the congratulations faded. I looked at the empty space of Lila. The chair I preserved for her before she passed. 

It would have been easier to lose an arm, a leg or two– anything— than to live without my flesh and blood, without the beat of my heart. Almost anything would be more comfortable than living without my precious child.

The professor stood there and beside him stood Layan as I walked toward them with a fake smile presented on my face. My eyes trail to my husband. His eyes remain firmly on Layan as she walks away, but I draw in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, "Where is she going ?" I asked questioningly.

"She want us to follow her, Layan has a surprise," he breathes.

I laughed, "O-kay."

With another lungful of air, I cast a grin toward Ibrahim as I walk beside him, our hands tingled in each other. "Where's everyone else?"

"No questions," Layan shouted from afar, "Come on, hurry up," She orders as I laugh loudly when Ibrahim starts running with my hand tangled in his as he ran faster.

When we finally stop, I see the lecture room where the professor and I spent our days in Pickering, as I look into his now light emerald eyes.

I raised an eyebrow as I entered the lecture room where everyone laughed and held up cameras, recording. "What is going on," I questioned with a laugh on my lips as he guided me, and I followed as we took a seat in front of the class.

Layan stood where her father used to as she began to talk, "Lila and I recorded a lot of things on our camera." She breathes as I wanted to hug her the moment she vocalises her sister's name as an unmistakable scar that I wish to remove was becoming apparent in her eyes. "Deniz, Baba, and Roya helped me put it all together into a video."

"Your daughter sure knows how to imitate," I chuckle as she impersonates the way he talks and his posture. "Go on, Love," Ibrahim encourage Layan, "We are waiting for you."

Ibrahim moves in close to me, and whispers in my ear, "Doctor Wahaj, stop. Interrupting the class. How I supposed to focus when all I hear is your voice."

"Should I move ?" I ask him jokingly to the boo sounds of the crowd of my family behind us.

His eyes seem to talk, but his murmur followed 'How can Breath if you did?!'

His words didn't mean anything to me when his whole body talked and his actions made me feel cherished, needed; because though I know he was sadder than I was since I spent more time to get to recognise the jewel that was our daughter. He didn't, but here he forgave me and stood beside me, and after all this time later, we still want each other there.

Layan finished what she was saying as she went to sit in her father's lap beside me as she held my hand. When the video started, I meet Lila's beautiful, emerald gaze in the screen. "Mama,"

A simple word, I pleaded to hear one last time from her mouth, when I look into her eyes all I see are her big dreams, her dream to be a fisher, her larger than world smile.

I looked toward Ibrahim and Layan who sat next to me. There is a small laugh in their eyes as tears seemed visible in their eyes too. Ibrahim hugged the girl on his lap tightly as a laugh became apparent in his eyes. His grin that lights up his face, a presence that demands attention and a stance that commands respect and admiration still took my whole realm away.

Lila's voice spoke again, and I gave my full concentration, "I recorded every year this video from when I was five years old, and Baba gave me the camera. In case one day, Allah took his Amanah, and I didn't say goodbye to you." She explains.

"I am now seven; If I am not here," This was said before she began her speech. She says her age in every recording as the recording continued showing her cute five-year-old face and then sixth and then finally seventh, the last. 

My heart ached every time I saw her little face, how I longed to hug her and to touch and smell her hair, how I longed to see her grow up, But it wasn't written and I smile at her face on the screen, "Be a famous doctor Mama, help a lot of kids for me. Make them laugh just like you made me. Don't be sad. Be proud. I will always love you eternally, Mama."

When she finished, my heart seemed to try to retain its shape to be in my chest, but it wasn't allowed to do so. "Baba," She began again.

"Make Mama smile, Make Layan nice and remember to drink orange juice for me." I could see the emotional toll it took on Ibrahim even though he seemed not to be surprised and have seen it before; it still didn't make the pain go away as I press my hand in his, "I love you, Megaannum (For a million year)," She finishes.

"Layan, go fishing with baba even if you don't like it so he won't miss me too much. Be good to Mama, so she doesn't get angry so much. And I love you so much Layan."

She seemed to add everyone's name even Nermin, her uncle Ahmad, the five kids, my aunts. She didn't want anyone to be left out and when the video finished.

Everything I needed to say was already written on Ibrahim's face as I could see the cries and sobs of some there such as Nermin, my aunt Seren, Layan(her sister).

It was moments like that, sitting amongst family, watching a sad reality that made me realize that life does go on, no matter how much you wish it didn't at times. There was a time that I didn't think I could move on, even with Ibrahim beside me.

Weeks after we lost Lila, the pain had been so intense that I spent it mostly on my mat. Praying to god that I didn't know how to handle this that it was too much of a pain for me to handle. Praying the pain away. I had felt so numb from it all that I closed down. My faith was the one that pulled me back up. Ibrahim was the one who walked beside me.

The crowd roared and clapped as the video ended, before making duaa for those lost.

"I'm so proud of you, buddy," Ibrahim whispered to Layan, taking her in his arms and hoisting her onto his shoulders.

I looked over to Ibrahim, finding tears in his eyes again. He was overwhelmed. "I don't understand," I said to him. "When did she record any of this?"

He shrugged. "Never underestimate the power of Layan. She seemed to tell her to do so every year." Ibrahim held into Layan as she smiles.

"Lila was never afraid of going there; she never was afraid of leaving this world because of what you told her about Jannah. But she was afraid of leaving you in this world. That is why every year I record her in my camera to say whatever she wants so when the time comes, and she wasn't able to say goodbye, we will have this."

It seems that every year, Lila felt pain but never told us how bad it was. Every year weakened her tiny frame and Allah knew and took her to a place with no more pain or disease. 

"You're amazing," I whispered to Layan, kneeling down to hug her as I looked up to Ibrahim and muttered, "I love you so much,"

"Love you, too. Always." His words spoke, and for the first time, I believed them more than anyone else's words.

Though I will grieve the death of my daughter forever, it does not mean my life is lacking happiness and joy. Quite the contrary, It is not either/or, it's both/and.

My life is more rich now. I live from a deeper place. I love deeper still.

Because I've clawed my way from the depth of unimaginable pain, suffering and sorrow, again and again– when the joy comes, however and whenever it does– it is a joy that echoes through every pore of my surface and every bone in my body.

My life now is more precious and vibrant and full, not despite my losses, but because of it. I learned that Allah was always beside me every step of the way to guide me back to him.

*************

Eleven years later

You asked me the other day for his story, Layan. Not for the testimonies or the trials. Not for the facts or the medical records. Not for the reasons. Just like you did, all these years ago when you requested for your father to write when he was in prison, he wrote his diary.

You are now asking me to do the same. You've read the testimonies and the medical records. Though it's real and contains all the facts, you wanted the one with our laughter, with our tears with our heartaches and with our triumphs.

This is that story, my love.

My journey, your father's journey, Our family's journey. It all started when your father met me in a lecture room. He read my name and recognized me. Some people that surrounded us are still around us, and some are just a distant memory.

Your father and I made wrong turns, mistakes which we'll never be able to rectify fully, but it has led us to where we are now, and though life is never perfect, Layan, I hope we've made the best of it. I hope we've done our best by you.

So enjoy this story. Cry a bit. Laugh. Learn from it; share it with your own children because after all, that is the real story; this is the real story behind your father and me.

This is The secret life of my Husband, the professor.

Assalamu Alaikum beautiful people, 

We're done, and now I simply want to thank all of you for reading, for commenting even when things got so hectic for so many hours of speculation and discussion, of disbelief, of tears and of joy.