"Can I say something that may sound crazy?"

My brows furrowed down at my lovely wife, whose nearly naked body rested beside me, only my flimsy dress shirt covered her soft feminine curves.

With my dress shirts, Tasneem always left the top few unbuttoned, her cleavage a sight for my greedy eyes, a tempting distraction shrouded under the sultry allure of a wife far too good for this world. With an innocence that reddened her cheeks at my suggestive whispers under the veil of night, her beauty only radiated even more, taking me off guard and leaving me breathless.

Her bubbly laughter could melt the coldest hearts. Her blinding smile could make any man drop to his knees. Although I heavily preferred if no man ever caught sight of my wife in the ways I could just as she could only see me in ways other women could not.

Tasneem's raven black hair was sprawled across the satin pillowcase, tendrils of black like ink spilled in intricate designs that decorated her side of the bed. Her curls faltered out of place, mostly my fault after an intense night.

After ghusl (full body purification), we changed into more suitable, less distracting clothes since Tasneem turned as red as a rose every time she saw me shirtless. I pulled on some sweats while I gave her one of my old office shirts.

Her head rested on my arm, slim body snuggled close to my side. We fit like a puzzle that was meant to be, two sides of one coin. We were perfect together.

"Ibrahim?" her lilting voice spoke, breaking the spell she cast.

"Sorry," I kissed her cheek. "What were you saying?"

Tasneem pouted, scrunching her nose in irritation. "What were you thinking about?" she asked as an accusation of sorts.

I lazily glanced at her, a smirk finding my lips. "Well, wife," I said lowly, "if you must know, I was thinking of a thousand different ways to get you out of that shirt."

Her eyes widened. "Ibrahim!" she yelled, slapping my chest.

I couldn't stop the rumbling laughter from echoing off the walls of our bedroom, the sound filling the empty cavities of space that once felt like a sinister shadow, tendrils of darkness overseeing every sliver of light that escaped. Hearing my joy, she lost herself in her own laughter, lips wide with humor.

She sat up, shaking her head. "Stop that."

"Fine. What was this crazy thing you wanted to tell me?"

Her brown eyes instantly brightened. "Oh, I almost forgot," she smiled. "I wanted to ask you about something."

I cocked my head to the side. "What?"

Her sun-kissed skin tinged with heat, ripe with a pink blush. "W-Well," she stuttered. "I wanted to know if... you maybe... no pressure or anything, but I was wondering if-"

My curiosity only heightened at her rambling, hearing her fumble around for her words, falling off the edge of her sentences, and murmuring a series of jumbled words. It was a maze to try to interpret, a complicated gesture at something that burned in the back of her mind a fleeting thought that refused to sit in silence. She bit her lip.

"Tasneem," I interrupted, voice soft. My arm went behind my head, body outstretched against the mattress as I looked up at my wife. "Just relax. What's on your mind?"

She fidgeted with the ends of her sleeves again, eyes focused downward as if embarrassed. Her curtain of black curls falling over her forehead, covering her eyes. "I want a baby."

I don't think I heard her right. "What?" I asked, sitting up. The duvet fell at my waist, sheets pooling around us as I tried to comprehend the words my wife tried to tell me. She couldn't possibly mean a real child.

She looked up at me, confident and determined eyes settling on me. "I think we should have a baby," she said.

"Are you sure?"

I couldn't stop myself. There were so many reasons why a child shouldn't be our priority, why a child could be forced into a world no child should ever be involved in, why our entire lives could be scrutinized by this one decision. Between Tasneem and I, we suffered at the hands of twisted fates, at the mercy of the public, where we were treated as pawns for political gain, for selfish investments.

My little brother, my pride and joy, was tormented at a place where safety should have been guaranteed. They usurped him of his rights, of his religious freedom through their actions, and if they had more time, I could have lost Bashir to their hatred. All because I had a past that unraveled in the public eyes. All because I had a darkness that haunted my personal life.

I couldn't do that to my own child. I couldn't hurt an innocent soul because of my past, yet as I stared into those mesmerizing, warm, brown eyes, I felt the pulsing need to give her what she desired, to allow her to possess me in the way that only she knew how.

Having a child with her, just the simple thought, brought a smile to my lips.

"Do you... not want to have a child now?" she asked, visibly nervous. "We could wait, especially with everything that happened. I just thought... well, I don't know what I thought."

Sensing her qualm, I reached out towards her, pulling her in my lap. "Tasneem, do you want a child with me?" I asked her for clarifications.

"Yes," she whispered, not meeting my gaze.

I tilted her chin, forcing her eyes to meet mine. "Then, let's have one."

"But you don't seem like you-"

My lips found hers, taking them between the heat of mine, a sizzling sensation coiling around my nerves. Closing my eyes, I lost myself in her aura, her warmth engulfing me as her arms wrapped around my neck, pulling me closer as she angled her head.

Passion ignited from within, the force of attraction too demanding, too fierce to ignore, yet her lips moved slowly against mine, sweet like the tarts she made me on those bad days we had.

With fingers curling around her waist, my heart thumped loudly against me, drumming through my veins as if the drug of my wife left me defenseless and lost in her touch, her lips, her small gasps. I never wanted to pull away.

I never wanted to let her go.

My lips left hers, foreheads touching. "Not true," I whispered.

She bit her lip again.

"Don't do that," I growled lowly. "It makes me want to do things to you."

As if Allah planted a seed of rationality into her heart, she pushed at my chest. "No, we need to talk about this," she insisted.

"I know."

"Why did you hesitate before? Did you not want kids?" she fired question after question, doubts swirling through her doe-like eyes, confused and distraught.

"No, that's not it at all, Tasneem," I soothed, pulling her back into my arms. Nuzzling the crook of her neck, I inhaled her heavenly scent, the sensual aroma of roses, soft and delicate yet potent with its strength. "Trust me when I say having a child with you would be the greatest blessing of my life."

"R-Really?"

"I promise you this."

"Then why did you hesitate?" she asked again.

I sighed, holding her even closer to me if that was possible. "Because of all that we went through," I said quietly. "After what happened to Bashir, I'm scared of it happening again."

Tasneem cradled my cheeks, making me face her, face my undying fear of losing another family too soon.

I lost my parents and almost my brother, but I couldn't lose her. I couldn't lose our future in the wake of scandals and lies. The public eyes were vultures, greedy for the distraught of others, hungry for the fall of an enterprise.

"Ibrahim," she smiled. "We're okay. The scandal is over. We're fine now Alhamdulillah (thanks to God)."

"But for how long? Is it right of us to bring a child into this reality of ours?"

She laughed softly. "No one said parenting was easy. You think your grandparents thought they'd lose their son and daughter-in-law like that? You think my parents knew about the extent of discrimination when they first came to America?"

I shrugged. "I guess, but still. What happened to Bashir was horrifying."

"And you defended Bashir with every fiber in your being. You demanded justice. You changed his schools. You managed to make a national uproar about bullying through the scandal."

Damn, she got me beat.

Her slender fingers threaded through my hair, stroking through the dark locks of hair that remained unkempt and tousled from our evening together.

The gentle tug felt calming, soothing me from the pounding insecurities thundering against my skull. My wife's touch seemed to brush all the negativity away, and instead she showed me a future of the two of us, a baby in arms, brown eyes that matched hers and skin that resembled mine, innocent and curious.

A child. Our child.

The years would fade away, the night would turn to dawn, the child would grow and grow until he or she left their imprint on the world, left their own legacy and rewriting ours. This child would be extraordinary, one of a kind, a miracle. I could see it.

Just the mere thought of this nonexistent child brought a longing ache to my chest to hold and nurture, to raise a family with my beloved wife. As I gazed into those hopeful brown eyes that once lured me to the point of obsession, I knew she did more than enough to convince me. She could make any day brighten with her smile, could make any child feel loved with her personality.

A father, I could be a father.

Her alluring voice broke my train of thoughts. "If you're willing, we could start trying for a baby," she whispered. "After helping the kids in the orphanage, I don't want to get rid of that feeling, that sense of peace and happiness at watching their faces light up with blinding smiles. Of course, we'll still help and all," she rambled, eyes lit up with the excitement that bubbled through her lips. "But I just wanted to know what it would be like to have a baby, our own flesh and blood."

I winced at her word choice. "Flesh and blood?"

Tasneem pursued her lips. "You know what I mean," she groaned.

Laughing, I rested my chin on the top of her head, fingers idly stroking small circles on her back. "I know, sweetheart, I know," I murmured. "I like the idea of having a baby. I'm just... worried."

"Don't be."

"How can I not? I almost cost Bashir his childhood."

A brief silence ensued between us, where only our subtle breaths filled the air, hearts humming to a calming melody, our beats mingling as one, thoughts as conflicting as a reigning storm, cloud with misfortune and ominous winds. My chest felt heavy, a ballast pressing down with my burdens, with my mistakes.

I knew I couldn't always protect my family. I knew I couldn't always be perfect. However, just this once, I wished I could, I wished I could give Tasneem exactly the life she always envisioned, the life that Bashir never experienced. Our millionaire life was not what was told in magazines and papers, nor was it the ease that pop culture portrayed.

Although I was set in terms of economics, my family and anyone associated with me fell victim to some of the harshest, cruelest, and borderline abusive criticisms. People who have only seen us on a news article or heard our names would judge us for a number of reasons, for everything we did from our births, for our every mistake.

That life could be too difficult for a child to grow up in.

Tasneem's head rested against my shoulder, eyes closed. "Ibrahim?"

I hummed in response.

"What ever happened with Bashir's school?" she asked softly.

Pausing, I thought about the consequences I practically forced the school district to enforce. Of course they hated me for it since their special and talented students were now being punished for a bullying incident that every other parent deemed insignificant, but I wasn't letting up. No type of bullying should ever be tolerated, no matter the reason.

"I made a couple of calls, made Thomas run some errands, and then gathered some lawyers to draft a case against the district," I said as a matter of fact. "You know, I did the usual."

Tasneem straightened, arching a brow. "And?" she pressed. "What happened afterwards?"

"They did what I asked. The boys were punished, and they have no choice but to implement a new school policy about bullying," I continued, watching her smug expression. "You really thought I'd let them get away with all that?"

Her grin only got wider. "You just proved that you're more of a father figure than you think."

This sly little fox.

"You really think I'd make a good father?"

"I know you will," she smiled, not a second of hesitation. "In Shaa Allah (if God wills it). So, what do you say?"

Tasneem's words kept replaying in my mind like a record player that I refused to stop. I had done more than most siblings would for their youngest brother or sister. If I hadn't lost my parents so soon, I might never have sacrificed that much. The circumstance made me grow up, forced me to think about someone who wasn't myself.

I grew up too soon, but I didn't regret any fragment of my past. As broken and tormented as I was, the best part about being a shattered piece was bringing the pieces back together.

My child may have difficulties in the future that I may not even understand, but those calamities would engulf the child in wisdom and honor, in courage and faith.

I glanced down at Tasneem, seeing her pleading eyes, her adorable little pout, and the overwhelming compassion of her visage. That was the moment that I knew would be one I remembered forever.

"Let's try."

She flung her arms around my neck, embracing me, her lips kissing every part of my face that she could reach as I sat chuckling at her excitement.

"You're the absolute best," she praised, smile so bright, so pure that I was hypnotized by it.

"How about I show you the things that I'm best at?" I said, voice heavy with desire. My lips found her collarbone, lightly biting down. "May I?"

Her breathless moan was answer enough. I had her pinned to the bed in seconds, mind too hazy to even comprehend the burning sensations that followed every nerve of my body. Every part of me reacted to her, every part wanted more.

I wanted to drive her to the brink of pleasure and back again, to the endless gasps of ecstasy. She drove me crazy with need, made me insane on her love.

As my lower body pulsed at the sight of her flushed cheeks below me, my mind was in awe at the beauty that illuminated off her form. She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, the most caring, the most compassionate.

Even when the whole world hated me, she stood by my side. Tasneem was willing to sacrifice her future to salvage my reputation. With nothing but Allah in her heart, she almost risked all that she worked for in a pursuit to save a once bitter man.

As sweet and vibrant as the pastries she made, Tasneem managed to cure my symptoms of hate and vengeance. Perhaps it would take me even longer to forgive the man who stole my childhood from me, but that was okay.

The bitterness of life lasted longer in the mouth, but with time, the sweetness of the untold future would overpower it. And that was the patience that I awaited.