Baatein teri kitni haseen~

Mein yaad inko jab karta hu,

Phoolon si aaye khushbu..

Your talks are so beautiful~

When I remember them,

A fragrance of flowers surrounds me..

_______________________________________________

~1 and a half years later~

Shahzaib's POV :-

Hamesha ki tarha mene tumhe aaj bhi apne khwab dekha,

Iss baar tum halkey gulabi rang ki chaadar odhey kisi bagichey me tehel Rahi thi,

Tumhare haath mein mustafa tha,

Jisey tum pyaar karrahi thi..

Baccha...aaj hamara mustafa dhai saal (2&half years) ka hogaya hoga..

Mujhe tumhare Chehre per sukoon nazar aaya,

Per kiya batau mere dil ka haal?

Mujhe sukoon nahi hai..

(Like everytime you came in my dream,

This you were wandering in a garden while clad in a baby pink shawl,

You had mustafa in your arms,

The one you were loving..

Baccha..today mustafa will be 2 and a half years old, right?

When I saw you in that dream, you looked peaceful,

But what should I tell you about the situation in my heart?

I have no peace..)

This is me, I have become like this. I have become silent over these years, only my daughter fatima is the reason that I may smile sometimes for her. She is healthy now, Alhamdulillah. I am thinking of sending her to kindergarten but Jamila aunty says it's too early. I quickly changed into my formals and walked towards fatima, who is missing? Where did she go?

"Fatima~ where are you?" I called her, but couldn't find her.

"Fatimaa~" I almost sang her name because every time I call her like this, she response with a loud giggle.

"What's wrong? Where is this girl?" I mumbled, searching her near the love seat.

"humphhh~" A small hand touched my leg with a light sound, I turn around to see fatima covering herself with her blanket and trying to scare me.

A smile spread on my lips but I tried to look scared, so she thinks that her plan worked.

"Oh Allah! A ghost in my room! Allahmiya please save me! Such a big ghost!" I said, acting as If I am really scared and she giggled while continuing her play.

"bhau~bhau~" She made sounds, her tiny hands making patterns like lions in the air.

"Allah what should I with this ghost? I should run now..." I said, stomping my shoes on the floor so she thinks that I left.

She quickly removed her blanket from her face, looking at me with mixer of surprise and delightness.

"Got you little one!" I said, putting my hands on my hips to look a little angry.

She looked at me with her big doe eyes, the ones that resemble my beloved Shahnoor's eyes. Her cheeks turned red, she clutched on her blue night suit. Looking so cute, may Allah protect her from evil eyes.

"Are you trying to scare baba?" I asked, she looked down.

"Answer me fatima.." I said, softly.

"ye-esss..." She replied with an innocent smile dancing on her pink bow shaped lips.

Alhamdulillah, she is very smart girl. She quickly catch up everything that happens around her and also she started saying many words like 'yes' or 'no'.

I bent down to her level, looking at her with furrowed brows.

"Baba is angry with you." I said, pouting.

"Bhy? (Why?)" She tried to ask why, I control myself from smiling.

Getting no response from me, She put her small hands on my shoulders and kissed me on my right cheek.

"This one too.." I said, turning my face towards the left.

She giggled and kissed on my left cheek. I quickly engulfed her into a bear hug, that's what it is for her.

Knock! Knock!

The knocking on the door disturbed our play, I quickly said 'come in'.

"Bhai, breakfast is ready. We are waiting for you." Naimal said nervously, she is firoz's wife.

Firoz married her in last year's ending, its only 8 months to their marriage. Naimal is Shahnoor's choice for him and I must say she choosed the best girl. Naimal was a teacher before coming here, firoz told her to leave her business behind at which she didn't argue at all. She is nice girl, her most habits are just like shahnoor. She likes to dress up like my baccha, so I gave her all the new clothes, accessories, bags and cosmetics of Shahnoor's but kept the ones that my wife already used. I kept some of the things that I can pass to fatima someday.

Alhamdulillah, firoz is doing fine after marrying naimal. She is the best companion for him, maybe that's why shahnoor chose her. Although, naimal's parents hesitated in first place to marry off their only daughter in Mafia's family but Shahnoor already had convinced them before going for hajj.

"Bhai, Can I take fatima with me?" Naimal asked, hesitantly.

"Yes ofcourse, baba ki jaan do you want to go with chhoti mumma (younger mother)?" I asked fatima after answering naimal.

She quickly ran towards naimal, hugging her right leg. Naimal happily took her in her arms, kissing on her cheeks and left. I am really grateful to Allah for giving naimal and firoz love for Fatima, they both love her as if she is their own daughter. I rarely stay at home, keeping myself busy in business. Naimal and Firoz take care of Fatima every time I leave, I can say she has spent more time with them than me.

Third person's POV :-

At the dining table, everyone had their breakfast in silence when Mrs. Jamila decides to announce the good news.

"Shahzaib and firoz.." Mrs. Jamila started, gaining attention of both males.

"I want to tell you that Allah has blessed us with a good news, I went to doctor yesterday evening with naimal..and her reports have came earlier this morning, Alhamdulillah she is expecting." Mrs. Jamila announced with happiness.

Naimal blushed looking at fatima, who is playing with her gold chain around her neck. Firoz looked surprisingly at his wife, her smile said it all making him grin. Shahzaib stood up and put his right hand on naimal's head.

"May Allah bless you and your child with health and happiness." He gave her blessings being an elder brother-in-law.

"Jazakallah bhai.." Naimal whispered.

Shahzaib looked at his young brother, who is going to be a father now. He walked towards firoz and gave him brotherly hug.

"Its a blessing firoz, take care of your wife." He advised the soon to be father.

Firoz's eyes welled up, his heart engulfed with the memories of shahnoor as he looked in Shahzaib's glossy eyes. Holding Shahzaib's right hand with his both hands, he kissed it with respect.

"Bhabhi would be so happy to hear this..." Firoz said, hushly.

"She is...she is really happy, believe me." Shahzaib said, patting firoz's shoulder with his left hand and slowly walked out of the scene.

. . . . . . . . . . .

He came in his study room, settling himself on the leather swing chair his eyes stare at the picture of his beloved wife.

Adorned in a beautiful red salwar kameez, she was studying for her exams the time when this picture was taken. She looked breathtakingly beautiful, her dark black tresses made her appearance more attractive. Shahzaib's finger traced her picture with love and tears in his eyes.

"Everyone is happy baccha..." He talked to her picture, tear after tear falling on the glass of the photo frame.

"I am happy too for their happiness but..there is a discomfort in this happiness, I feel it is like a torture on my soul when I feel it. The word happiness doesn't mean anything but an agony to your shahzaib." Shahzaib cried, his eyes never leaved Shahnoor's face.

He sighed in defeat, his shoulders got heavy with an unknown burden.

"When uncle left us, you held me but now..you are not by my side, I feel so *taking deep breath* lonely..why don't I die?" He said, in frustration.

Knock! Knock!

He quickly wiped his face and cleared his throat hearing the knock on the wooden door of his study room.

"Come in." He said, in a thick tone.

The door opened and Mrs. Jamila walked in, she knew shahzaib is crying all this time. She walked around the desk and stood in front of shahzaib, putting her hand on his head.

"Don't you hide your pain mere bete (my son)." She said, soothing his head.

"Who should I show it to?" Shahzaib asked, his heart filled with new wave of emotions.

"Allah, he is the one who decided to take her and he will be the one to give you cure for this torture." Mrs. Jamila explained.

Farah's POV :-

Life can be unexpected, it fluctuates your fortune. Trialing us through best to the worst than again to the best. Alhamdulillah, I have past through the worst and living in the best. But this best in incomplete somehow, when I feel happiness or anxiety I don't have my little sister to share it with. Although abu daud never made me feel alone, his eyes says it all. He is not very romantic but he is caring and his silent actions are enough to prove his love for our family.

I quickly walked beside him and interwined our fingers together, at this he looked at me and smiled. I looked at our shadow on the sand as we walked barefoot at the beach.

It is so peaceful here, only the sound of the shore is all we can hear.

"Ayan must be waiting for us." Abu daud said, looking at me.

"Hmm..shall we end this date and go home." I said, teasingly.

"Not a good idea..I wanted to stay here for a long time with you.." He said, smiling.

"But what about ayan?" I asked.

"Rumaisa can handle him for a night." He suggested, sliding his hand behind my waist.

Rumaisa is ayan's babysitter, she is a muslim girl. Alhamdulillah, ayan is smart enough to adjust with everyone now.

"So.. what say wifey?" He asked, winking at the end.

My heart skipped a beat when he pulled me closer.

"What are you doing? Someone will see.." I whispered, blushing hard.

"At this time no one is here, just the two of us..alone." He whispered the last word before his lips captured mine.

Alhamdulillah for everything..

Shahzaib's POV :-

It is late at night when my eyes open, my eyes surveyed the surrounding. It is a different place, much more like a ancient mosque which are made of wood.

"-mother died when he was only six, hu is grandfather died who held him when he was small, Allah protected him from trauma and gave him a shelter in his uncle Abu taleb's house.."

I entered in a huge hall which is dark, only the light through the huge box designed panel illuminated the hall. The faint voice of a little boy I guess got clearer as I took steps ahead towards the huge group enormous group of small children, sitting in line while they all are wearing white jabbah and white topi (cap). They are all engrossed in listening to the bayan a small boy is giving, sitting in front of them on a little high stool. My feet accidentally touched a young boy's back, he turn towards me.

"I am sorry." I whispered.

He didn't said anything, just shift a little aside. I was about to say something when the boy in front of this boy looked at me and shifted aside, I furrowed my brows in confusion.

'Whats happening?' I wondered but than the boy infront of this two boys acted the same and than it repeated with further six boys until clear path has created between me and the boy who is giving bayan.

I slowly walked further, looking at my sides to see this little boys staring at me with no emotions at all. My steps halted right in front of the beautiful boy, giving the bayan. He is wearing the same white jabbah and a pagdi (turban) around his head. For some reason, I felt emotional to see his features which is somewhat similar to me.

"Who are you?" I asked, he looked at me with his innocent eyes.

"Please sit down, do not interfere in between the kutbah.." A man came behind this boy's back from the darkness, he looked much older than me, dressed in white jabbah and a sea green shawl spread on his broad shoulders, he has this long white beard, sharp nose and deep black eyes and mashallah lots of noor (light) on his face.

I quietly obeyed him and sat infront of the small boy. He started his bayan again.

"When our prophet Muhammad sallallahu alaihi wasallam married Bibi Khadijah, he had two sons from her and..he lost them way before his own departure from this duniya (world)..no one loved their children as much as prophet loved his children, he was so happy when his Ibrahim alaihissalam was born from his Egyptian wife maria, but Ibrahim alaihissalam couldn't make it more than 18 months of life, our prophet's heart felt sorrow. Ibrahim alaihissalam's death was painful for our prophet but he never complaint and thought that this what Allah the almighty has chosen for him and had patience looking at the death of his son. But the humans don't understand this, they quickly complains when adversity strikes. Although our prophet Muhammad sallallahu alaihi wasallam was a human being as well, he had all the emotions that a normal human being have and he must have felt grief. This was not the only time he had faced sorrow of loss of his child, he had buried his own children with his bare hands during his Lifetime. He lost his wife Bibi Khadijah, his first companion who believed in him when no one else did, who nourished him with her love. Our prophet Muhammad sallallahu alaihi wasallam is the most compassionate and closest prophet to our lord, when he has faced such adversities in his life than who are you oh human being? In the quran Allah has promised إن الله مع الصابرون. Meaning

"Surely, Allah is with those who are As‑Saabiroon (the patient)"

(Quran, 8:46). So why don't you believe in Allah's promise? Have you don't have any pure faith in his being?"

The boy completed the kutbah with an unanswered question. The old man put his right hand on the boy's head with a smile reaching to his eyes.

"You have done well Mustafa..." He praised mustafa.

My eyes look at him with shock, tears pooled in them.

"Mustafa.." I whispered his name, he looked at me with a smile.

I stood up and walked to him, bending down on my knees I engulfed into my arms. My heart pained but I am more than happy to meet my son. How is he so smart? I heard that the babies who die right after their birth are counted in shaheed (Martyr) in another life. Is my mustafa a part of their special jamaat?

"My son.." I broke the hug and kissed him on his forehead.

"Babajaan, don't you cry..it makes me weak." He said as if he reciting a poem.

I quickly wiped my face, smiling at him with love.

"I am not crying baba ki jaan, I am so happy to see you.." I said, whispering and kissing him again on his cheeks.

"I have brought Ammijaan with me, she is waiting there for you.." He said, pointing towards a wooden door which is closed, my heart skip a beat.

"Shah-shahnoor?" I asked him in disbelief.

"Don't you trust your son? I don't lie babajaan, Ammijaan says its a bad manners to lie." He said, so beautifully that eyes couldn't believe what they are seeing.

"No mere bete (my son), I trust you..you are not lying I know..I am just very happy to see you." I said, trying to control my tears.

"Ammijaan can't stay here for long, go meet her." He said, I nodded and quickly stood.

With fast steps, I stood infront of the wooden door and opened it slowly to see a bright light which soon faded as I walked further. It is a garden of huge green trees, which has colourful flowers on their branches. There are long wheat plants here and there, I walked more ahead and my heart stopped for a moment when I saw sitting on a wooden bench, cladded in a black abaya. Only her small hands and beautiful eyes are visible to me. She turned her head towards me and her eyes smiled through her veil.

"Meri jaann~" I cried, running towards her.

When I stop infront of her, she looked at me with love in her eyes. Cupping my face, she wiped my tears and slowly put her head on my chest where she can hear my heartbeats.

I wasted no time to hug her back and cried feeling her presence after so long.

"How are doing?" She asked, my hold got tighter around her.

"No-not good, not good at all." I replied.

"My duas (prayers) are with you, be patience." She said, calmly.

"Its hard live baccha.." I said, wanting her to understand that I am nothing without her.

"I know..But you have to carry on with your life, Inshallah we will meet in jannah. Please be patience as I am waiting for you right at the door of jannah.." She said, the pain in my heart increased when I realised she is going to leave again.

"Please don't leave again.." I pleaded, tears flowed down my cheeks.

She slowly broke the hug, I missed her presence near my heart but soon she held my hand and looked at me with tears filled in her beautiful eyes.