Present Day

I spoke with Trisha and she took all the things she was keeping at my old apartment as storage. She even cleaned up and decorated for me which I thought was incredibly sweet of her. So now, it was time to move in for the next couple of months. I hadn't fully unpacked so it wasn't difficult to move as I just took all my suitcases to the flat.

"But why can't they come with us if we can't stay there?" Isa asks.

"How many times to I have to tell you? Because there's not enough space!" Why did kids ask so many questions?

"So when are we going to Hamleys?" Another question?

"Next week, in'sha'Allah," I reply, trying to keep my cool.

"And will everyone be coming or is there not enough space?" Isa asks and I looked at him suspiciously. Is that sarcasm? Or is it a genuine question?

"They will be coming," I reply and continue unpacking while Isa sits on a chair, swinging his legs back and forth.

"Mama, how old were you when you moved here?"

"So many questions!" I say and carry on without answering.

"Mama, were you thirty years old?"

"Hey, I just turned thirty this year!" I reply. I still like to think of myself as a young adult.

"Mama, are you upset with me?" Isa asks and I stop what I'm doing.

"No, do I sound upset?"

"A little bit," Isa replies, giving a small genuine pout.

"Aw, my baby!" I say, leaping over to him and hugging him. "I'm not angry." I don't know how to explain to him that I just feel a bit uneasy. I know the reason behind my uneasiness but I want to block it out for as long as I can. I'm scared that if I let down my guard, all the memories and emotions attached to them will come flooding back. I wasn't ready for that yet.

I'm ignoring how the wardrobe in the bedroom reminds me of the time it was filled with the clothes if Isa's father. I'm denying how the kitchen has any memories of Isa's father cooking. I'm blocking out the image of Isa's father and I cuddling on the sofa in the living room. I don't want, nor need those memories right now. I have new memories to make with my little Isa and I need to feel some positive energy in order to do that. This probably means I shouldn't sound annoyed at Isa.

"I'm sorry if I sound mad. I'm just hungry and tired," I tell him. The effort I'm using to block out memories is making me too lazy to cook so I decide to order some food from outside.

I give Isa his new remote control car to play with while I finish unpacking. Then, I decide to order some food.

"This hungry house thing is awesome!" I say to myself, tapping away on the iPad Eliza let me borrow. "I've been away too long," I add with a little laugh. I ask Isa what he wants to eat and he replies,

"Pizza!" I order us both a big pizza because big pizzas have a thinner base, therefore they tasted better.

I lean back on the sofa, wondering what to do until the pizza arrives. I look over at Isa and follow around the remote control car which seems to me crashing against a wall at every turn.

"Can I have a go?" I ask and Isa looks up at me with a questioning look. Was it really that weird for me to be playing with a toy? "It looks fun."

"Okay, Mama. Five minutes," He orders, giving me the remote.

"Yay!" I say and I start to play. "In Hamleys, there are these remote control helicopters which go back and forth. And they have these other remote control cars which flip around. It's so cool."

"Do they have remote control dinosaurs?" Isa asks, excitedly. "Do they have remote controlled everything?"

"No, but the last time I went, they had members of the royal family made from lego and a spiderman hanging down from the ceiling." Isa gasps in response.

"I wanna go now!" I start becoming worried that I'm making Hamleys sound a lot better than it is. But it's the only thing I could think of from the top of my head that could truly excite this boy. Suddenly, a fantastic idea forms in my mind.

I get the iPad and start searching for any circuses that might be coming nearby soon. It seems I'm in luck! On the weekend, there's going to be a funfair in Wanstead Flats which isn't too far from us. I get my phone out and phone Eliza.

"There's a funfair this weekend! What do you think?"

"That sounds great but I have to take care of Sami so I'm not sure if I can come," Eliza admits.

"Then who's going to take us? I want Isa to enjoy himself in the time that he's here."

"Well, I can ask Imran to take you, Isa, Farah and Ummi," She offers.

"He's already taking us all Hamleys next week," I say, feeling guilty.

"Nonsense! He wouldn't mind taking you all. Plus, he'd do anything to make Farah happy and she loves funfairs! Good thinking by the way, Esha."

"Thanks," I respond, still feeling unsure. "Are one hundred percent sure that Imran won't mind?"

"Yes! And it'll give me some time alone with Sami to bond," Eliza says.

"You're his mother, weren't you supposed to have a bond with him from his birth?"

"There's always more bonding to do!" She argues and then the doorbell rings.

"Pizza's here! Thanks for letting my borrow your iPad and telling me about this hungry house app," I say.

"You're welcome."

"Asalamu'alaykum!"

"Wa'alaykumsalaam," Eliza replies before we hang up.

I secure my niqab before opening the door and taking the pizza. I thank the guy and then put it down, feeling my stomach grumble.

It's not long before the Pizza is finished and Isa and I sit with our stomachs full. I throw the box away and settle with Isa.

"What do you want to do?" I ask.

"Can you tell me a story, Mama? About a boy who goes on an adventure!" Isa says and I groan in my head. I don't want to tell a story.

"Shall we... watch a story about a boy's adventure instead?" I ask. "Come on, let's see what films there are to see." I pick up the iPad and start searching for kids' films on Google. After much searching, Isa and I decide on Mr Peabody and Sherman.

"How can the dog talk?" Isa asks as soon as the film begins.

"It's not real, Isa," I reply. A little while later, Isa asks,

"How are all the other dogs normal but Mr Peabody is reading a book?" Aren't kids supposed to have great imaginations and watch these things without questioning how realistic they are? I never questioned why Simba could talk when I was a kid.

"Mr Peabody is special and the world has accepted that he is a talking genius dog," I explain. But no matter how much I explain things, Isa seems to conjure up more questions. And the questions just keep on coming.

"The way Sherman says Mr Peabody is so cute," I say.

"Shh Mama, you're ruining the film," Isa says and I stare at him, shocked!

"I'm ruining the film?" I ask. Isa looks up at me with an embarrassed smile.

"Sorry, Mama," He says, realising he sounded a bit rude. Though I was more in awe of the fact that he'd think I was ruining the film from one comment after all the questions he had been asking!

We were past half way through watching Mr Peabody and Sherman before the doorbell rang. I was quite surprised that someone was here at this time. In less than an hour, I had to start getting Isa ready for bed. It was probably Eliza or Ummi coming to see Isa. I put my abaya and niqab on, just in case Imran was with them. When I open the door, I'm surprised to see that it's not any of them.

"Trish!" I say, putting my arms out. We met only the other day but the encounter was so brief. Behind Trisha were my mother-in-law and father-in-law. When my eyes fell upon them, I suddenly feel so guilty. When Isa was born, I called them and confided in them. I sent them pictures and updated on them on Isa growing up, learning to walk and crawl. But somehow, when life became more busy, we just grew apart and I even stopped thinking about them.

"How are you, darling?" My mother-in-law asks me. When I first met her, I knew we would have gotten on well if it weren't for the circumstances of her son's conversion and marriage to me, a Muslim woman. But the fact that we had personalities which got on well was proven after the tragedy when I surprisingly found comfort in long phone calls to this woman. We both shared our pain with one and another over the loss of a mutual loved one. I surprise myself by hugging her and letting all my barriers break down. Hugging her reminds me of Isa's father and his absence for this was the woman who brought him into this world. I let in the pain I'd been blocking out all day and cry on his mother's shoulder.

"Mama," I hear Isa say. My mother-in-law and I let go of each other, and she takes a step past me, standing in front of Isa.

"My my, so this is my grandson?" Isa stares back blankly and then looks to me for help.

"This is your Abu's mama. Do you remember?" I ask him and Isa doesn't respond. I'd shown him pictures of his father's parents several times but I never spoke of them much. While I was in England, we didn't meet many times and we never had any opportunities to make memories which I could tell Isa. I only knew of the stories Isa's father told me from his childhood. There was also the fact that the last time Isa spoke to them was two years ago.

My father-in-law comes forward and puts his hand out for Isa to shake. Isa reluctantly shakes his hand and my father-in-law kneels down and ruffles Isa's hair.

"And I'm your baba's baba," He says. I give Isa a look, hoping he'd hug his grandparents but instead, he just smiles at them politely.

"I see my Ayo in him," my mother-in-law says, suddenly embracing Isa. Isa looks at me again for help.

"Mama, Baba, come through," I say to them, leading them to the living room. When we first met, Isa's father insisted that I called them both what he called them which was Mama and Baba.

They take Isa's hands and follow me inside. I tell them to make themselves comfortable while I go to the kitchen to grab some refreshments. I feel so grateful that I had at least bought a few snacks and juice earlier in the day. The empty cabinets and drawers were depressing me.

I place some juice and empty glasses in front of the guests and take a seat next to Trisha. I see Isa's explaining the story of Mr Peabody and Sherman to his grandparents.

"I'm so sorry I didn't call before coming back to England. So many things have been going through my mind, it just kind of... I guess I forgot," I say. I can't believe that I didn't call them. Every time I remembered them, I made a mental note that I'd contact them but then I'd forget again.

"It's okay, Trisha let us know," my mother-in-law replies. How can these people be so understanding? "Can I talk to you in private, dear?" Or maybe they're not as understanding as I thought them to be. Am I in trouble?

"Sure, follow me," I say and I lead her into the guest room.

"How have you really been? How are things in Pakistan? I remember you telling me Isa was very happy there. Is this just a visit or are you coming back for good?" I wonder if Isa's endless questions is something inherited by his grandmother.

"I've been very well, Mama. When I eventually got back to teaching in the school Isa's father and I opened, I just became really busy with balancing everything and I couldn't call as often as I did." I had to get my excuse for not keeping close ties out of the way. "But Isa's very happy in Pakistan. There's a strong community there and Isa's very much a part of it and very dearly loved. I just thought it would be nice to visit here," I explain.

"That's good. And to be honest, I feel like I should apologise. I mean, I realised it was always you who called me and I never called you because I always thought you might be busy. But I have been seeing my grandson growing in pictures and videos sent by you and Trisha. I'm grateful for that. But honey, I still worry about you." I look at my mother-in-law in confusion.

"What do you worry about?" I ask.

"Look, if you don't mind me saying, you're still young. I understand how much in love you and Ayo were. But maybe it's time you move on. You can't stay like this for much longer. It's okay for you to move on," my mother-in-law advises. I just stare back at her. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"I... Mama, it's not so easy," I begin.

"It's never easy," She says.

"You don't understand. It's like the pain has dulled but his absence has worsened," I confess for the first time. "I try to block out thoughts about him, things that remind me of him. As Isa's growing up and feeling the absence of his father, I can't help but feel it far greater. How can you expect me to move on when Isa's father is still consuming parts of my mind and I have to force myself to block him out?" I say, tears pooling in my eyes, threatening to fall.

"Perhaps that in itself is a problem. Don't block it out. If you do that, it'll all one day catch up to you and break you far worse than you expected. If you block it out, you won't be able to move on."

"How do I let it all in? I don't know how. What if I do and I break? Someone needs to be strong for Isa," I say, trying to calm my emotions.

"Stop distracting yourself and stop blocking out the memories. It'll be better for yourself and Isa in the future. It may hurt but maybe you need to hurt in order to heal. And then, you should move on." A silence pursues before my mother-in-law adds, "And remember, Jesus loves you. Open your heart to him and you'll feel the difference." We both smile at each other with the understanding that neither of us has given up preaching to the other.

"As much as I love prophet Jesus, I have Allah in my heart and I guess I need to increase my faith in him. It helps you focus only worshipping one Lord," I say and she shakes her head.

"I would like to get back to my grandson now." She smiles at me and leaves the room.

I sit at the edge of the bed and look around the room. We had many memories in every corner of this place and this room wasn't short of them. I remember a time when we had an argument and I sat in this room, locking the door and refusing to come out. I was annoyed from work and Isa's father had phoned me and told me he was cooking dinner since he came home from work early. I came home feeling hungry and looking forward to dinner, only to find that Isa was still cooking and that he was cooking moussaka. As a result, I locked myself in the guest room.

"I'm sorry, I forgot you don't like aubergines! Just peel that layer off!" Isa's father had been yelling through the door in an attempt for me to forgive him. After he gave up, I got even madder at the fact that he gave up in trying to earn my forgiveness. Seeing that sulking wasn't getting me anywhere, I got up and unlocked the door, ready to sit in front of Isa's father and frown. I opened the door and I was instantly grabbed by the waist.

"Haha! I got you!" Isa's father said and I couldn't help but smile. Then I apologised for acting silly and I ate the moussaka he made, peeling of the top layer and placing it in Isa's father's plate.

I give myself a few more minutes to sit and let my mind delve into the delightful memories. When I snap out of it, I don't feel as much pain as I expected. But I am left with a heavy feeling inside of me. I walk back to where Isa and the others are sitting and join them.

Though I sit with them, my mind is away, pondering over several things. I think about what the future has in store for me. I wonder if a time will ever come when Isa's father won't be a huge part of me, though that seems unlikely. It also dawns on me that I'm so used to regarding these people I call Mama and Baba as my parents-in-law when in reality, they're no longer my parents-in-law. I've always been a person who, on the most part, lives in the present. But now I'm beginning to worry about the future. Should I, as they say, 'move on'? If I don't, will I regret it? How could I even do such a thing?

So many questions! I had enough from Isa without asking myself so many more. I decide I'll work through this conflicted mess in my mind with guidance from Allah and help that he has blessed me with in the form of family and friends.