Before you begin, I want to give a huge thank you to my incredible ghostwriters. You two are the reason these chapters exist! 💓

Muhammad carried her inside, walking all the way upstairs to the master bedroom as she clung to him. The moment they stepped in, Jadwa wrinkled her nose, wriggling to be put down. 

"I need to wash my feet," she declared dramatically. 

He set her down with a chuckle, watching as she hurried towards the bathroom like she had stepped on lava. He settled into the couch, one arm resting on the armrest as he leaned back, amusement dancing in his eyes. 

A few moments later, she returned and plopped onto the couch beside him, sighing as she opened a bottle of lotion. 

"You'd think your life was just threatened," Muhammad teased. 

Jadwa shot him a glare before squeezing lotion onto her palms and rubbing it onto her feet. "It was." 

Muhammad let out a low laugh, "Unbelievably dramatic." 

She ignored him, rubbing the lotion into her skin before suddenly turning to him. She reached for his hands, her touch gentle as she poured some lotion onto his palms. He didn't protest as she began massaging it in.

Silence stretched between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was thick with something unspoken.

Jadwa exhaled shakily, gathering the courage she had spent so long avoiding. "I'm sorry. I've been so, so unfair to you." 

His eyes softened, but he didn't interrupt. 

She bit her lip, determined to push through. "I'm not going to cry. I'm not going to cry," she muttered under her breath, but her voice was already trembling. 

"I'm sorry about everything—for not telling you about your baby and for acting so poorly instead of taking accountability for my wrong. I said so many things I shouldn't have...." Her voice cracked, and Muhammad instinctively placed a hand on her back.

She closed her eyes for a moment before looking at him again, her gaze filled with raw emotion. "I... I took everything we had, our marriage, and reduced it to lust when that's the last thing that describes us, truthfully. Especially on your side." Her fingers tightened around his. "Because from the moment I met you, all you ever did was protect me and care for me." 

Muhammad swallowed, his grip on her hand firm but gentle. 

"It was hypocritical of me," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I twisted the frustration and anger I had for myself and projected it onto you when all you ever did was love me." 

A single tear slipped down her cheek, and before she could wipe it away, he beat her to it, his thumb brushing it off. 

"Stop crying, baby," he murmured.

Jadwa let out a shaky laugh, sniffing. "The baby wasn't hard to carry. It made me hate some things and do some weird things, but I really, really wanted to have our child. I promise you... I didn't have it in my heart to never tell you. I was just too childish, too scared of something I couldn't even control." She smiled through her tears. 

Muhammad studied her for a long moment before smiling back, a soft, knowing smile. "I know," he said, his voice steady. "I always knew, Jadwa. And Ammi gave me the gift you had for me." 

Her eyes widened in surprise, but then, a breath of relief escaped her, as if a weight she had been carrying for too long had finally lifted.

Jadwa swallowed hard, her fingers trembling slightly as she held onto Muhammad's hands. "My excuses are flimsy," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "They aren't strong, and my reasons can only be deemed as excuses."

She exhaled shakily, as if finally admitting it lifted something off her chest. She had carried them in silence, burying them beneath logic and denial, but now, faced with the one person who deserved her honesty, she couldn't hold them back any longer.

"I was scared, Ya Imran," she admitted, her voice breaking. "Terrified, actually." Her throat tightened, and she forced herself to keep going. "I was scared that what happened to my Mommy... that it would happen to me too."

She couldn't finish that sentence. Couldn't bring herself to say the words out loud, as if voicing them would make them real. She blinked rapidly, her breath hitching as the ache clawed at her chest.

"I was scared of everything about pregnancy, of carrying life inside me, of birthing a child..." Her grip on his hands tightened, her knuckles paling. "Because that's what stole my mother from me, Albi." Her voice wavered, raw with unfiltered pain. "And I didn't know how to face that fear without losing myself to it."

Jadwa swallowed, looking away, gathering the courage to bring up the one thing she didn't know how to forgive herself for using against him. "Then," she murmured, hesitating before forcing herself to continue. "About your past."

She cast her gaze away, unwilling to meet his eyes, but he wouldn't allow it. With gentle hands, he cupped her face, tilting it up so she had no choice but to look at him. He shook his head slowly, wordlessly telling her that it was as good as forgotten. That she didn't need to say anything.

But she needed to.

"Albi, you know... I probably started crushing on you from the beginning." She let out a weak chuckle, her lips curving into something bittersweet. "After our wedding, I couldn't deny the feelings anymore—the attraction, the pull towards you." She paused, inhaling deeply before confessing, "But I knew I had lost the battle the day you told me everything. That was when I knew I was done for."

A slow, knowing smile formed on his lips, and he ran his tongue over his teeth, but he remained quiet, waiting for her to finish.

She swallowed again. "Wallah, from the very start, I knew you were better than me in the eyes of Allah." Her voice was barely above a whisper, thick with emotion. "You are so pure, Ya Imran. So selfless. So true to your words. I think some things are better left unsaid, but I see you, Albi. I always have."

She lifted a hand to his jaw as she spoke. "I see how you stand in prayer every single night, the length of your sujoods. I see the charity you do in Nabil's name, in his brother's name, without ever speaking of it. I see how you struggle, how you battle with yourself, how you never let your past define you." A tear slipped down her cheek. "You are a good man. And that day... the things I said to you, the words I threw at you just to hurt you, still haunt me."

"When you asked if that was the reason..." Her voice cracked, and she bit her lip, shaking her head. "I was so angry. And in my habit of throwing back words, in my stubborn, sharp mouth, I threw it back at you."

Playfully, he made a motion of flicking her mouth with his hands, and she chuckled. "Tsk tsk, this sharp mouth of yours," he cracked his neck, and she laughed at the motions he was making.

Jadwa's voice trembled as she clutched Imran's hands, her eyes glistening with more unshed tears. "Please forgive me," she whispered, her gaze searching his, desperate for absolution. "Not just because I see—truly see—the efforts you make for our family, but because I fear being among the women who will be punished for their ingratitude towards husbands who have been nothing but good to them." Her voice wavered, and she swallowed hard.

She exhaled and straightened slightly. "Wait, I'm not done." 

Imran watched her with an amused grin, his lips twitching as he tried to suppress the laughter threatening to escape. She had that effect on him, this beautiful storm of emotions that always came crashing at once, leaving him no choice but to embrace them. 

Jadwa held up her fingers, ticking off each point as though listing her transgressions. "I'm sorry for everything," she continued. "And especially for asking you to let go of me. I never want that." Her voice cracked on the last words, her vulnerability laid bare between them. 

His heart clenched, and without hesitation, he cupped the back of her head and pressed a soft, kiss to the side of her face, close to her neck. "You are forgiven, my love," he murmured against her skin. "I promise you." 

Then, he leaned his forehead against hers, his eyes fluttering shut as he breathed her in. "I love you too much not to understand you, Hayati." 

This woman before him, was his home, his heart, the rest of his life and, Insha'Allah, the continuation of it in Jannah. He didn't need words to understand her, just as she didn't need to explain everything for him to know. He had always known. 

She could remake him in whatever way she wanted, shape him into the version of himself that fit her best—but the truth was, she already had. Every moment with her, every tear shed, every laugh shared, every argument fought and resolved, had altered him in ways he never thought possible. And there wasn't a single part of him that wanted to go back.

___

Sitting cross-legged now, opposite Imran on the couch, Jadwa kept massaging his palms, which were rough and calloused from all the weightlifting and calisthenics he did. 

His eyes were closed, and his breathing was slow while Jadwa loosened the stress beneath his skin. 

"Dozing off already?" she teased, tilting her head with a smirk. "Because you didn't miss me?" 

He smiled, and she hummed in response. 

"I'm not dozing off, baby," he murmured. 

Jadwa chuckled, rolling her eyes. She couldn't tell if he was, but he was definitely enjoying the little massage. 

"What is it, then?" she asked her voice softer now.

He opened his eyes,shifting his head just enough to meet her gaze properly.

"I'm so happy," he said, his gaze raw and bright, his jaw working. "Very happy." 

Jadwa smiled after a small moment of silence. She raised his hands to her lips, pressing two kisses on his knuckles. Their eyes met, and she flashed him another smile before slowly perching onto his lap and wrapping her arms around him. 

"I missed you so much, habiby. So, so much—it hurts so bad," she breathed into his neck, placing a soft kiss on his jaw as she snuggled deeper into him, as if she could get any closer than she already was. 

"I know, princess." He kissed the top of her head. "It was unbearable." 

Then, without warning, he lifted her effortlessly against his chest, squeezing her so tightly against his muscles that she let out a loud, startled scream. 

"Ouch!" She hit his arm. "Babe!" she groaned in pain, and he laughed so loud. 

"What? I thought you missed me," he teased, raising a brow. 

"I didn't say you should break my bones," she glared, pinching his bicep. 

Imran shrugged, unfazed, and she narrowed her eyes at him. 

Sitting up, she curled her fists and began raining playful punches on his chest and arms, determined to make him react. But he didn't even flinch. Not once.  

The competitive fire in her flared. She huffed in frustration, throwing one last punch before finally giving up with a dramatic sigh. 

"Not a small girl thinking she has any strength," he clicked his tongue with a smile. 

"You could at least pretend! You just said you liked me," she huffed, giving him her signature doe eyes. 

"I didn't say that," he corrected, tapping the pout on her face with his thumb. "I said I love you... big difference, Jadwa." He raised a single brow twice in a playful motion, and she couldn't help the grin breaking across her face. 

"Stopppp," she cackled, hiding her face in his neck to hide her blush. 

"What?" he asked, caressing her head, laughing lightly with her. "You don't want me to say I love you?" 

"Oh my God, babe, shhh!" she mumbled, hiding her face again. 

"Toh ai, I've not even started," he teased, laughing. "Just say you're shy." 

"Another disadvantage of marrying old men... just shhhhhhh," she dragged dramatically, laughing as she sat up properly, tucking her legs against his sides. 

"I—" he started, but she silenced him with giggles and kisses, pressing soft pecks on his eyes, nose, temples, beard, mustache, and the corners of his lips.

Now with her fingers tracing absent patterns along his arm, she tilted her head slightly. 
"Do you have anything to do today?" she asked, and he raised a brow. 

"My day is for you. Why?" he asked. 

"Mmm, okay. I was just asking," she hummed, caressing his thick brows with her finger before tracing it down his ear, following the path all the way to the scar that started on his neck. 

"Okay." He closed his eyes. He knew what Jadwa was doing... but she was suddenly shy. Sometimes, it baffled him how quickly she switched between the moods she liked—bold or shy. There was no in-between. 

"Should we take a nap?" he asked after a moment, his voice low and teasing. 

She scrunched her face. "No!" she said too quickly making his smirk stretch.

"I mean... we haven't had lunch, and I just want to sit here," she paused, pressing a kiss to his lips, then his cheek, feathery and fleeting. "And tell you..." More kisses. "I love you... and hear you say it again." Another kiss to his lips. "And again." Another kiss. 
He let her. He let her kiss him, let her play with the moment, let her act like she wasn't igniting something deep in his bones. 

She ran slow, wet kisses from his jaw down to his neck. 

"If that's all you want, I suggest you stop touching me like this," he murmured a warning, his voice low. 

Their gazes met and locked. Jadwa almost choked on air. 

She wanted him. But the way he stared at her—it was as if she could read his thoughts. That wasn't the issue, though. The issue was handling him.

And, true to God, Imran's patience was hanging by a thin, fragile thread, and moments from snapping, just like the string of her halter dress tied neatly around her neck. 

Her perfume. Her skin. The way his eyes refused to leave her face yet fought to look lower which he did, rightfully. 

When she swallowed, hearing his words, and pulled her lips from his skin, he caught her movement.

His gaze trailed down, landing on the lacy bra peeking through the awfully low neckline of her dress, revealing her cleavage. The position she was in only made it worse, it was temptation served on a silver platter. 

His fingers traced the lace before slipping into the dress, and he pressed the most flattering, wet kiss on her collarbone. A soft moan escaped her lips as she curled deeper into his hold. 

When their eyes met, she grasped his fingers, and he leaned back on the couch, bringing her hand to his lips. 

"Why did you wear the dress for me, then?" he teased, watching her turn into a blushing mess. 

"Mmm?" he asked again when she looked away, but as she turned back, she merged their lips in a kiss. Hungry at first, only to tease him by pulling away. 

He poked his tongue through his cheek, clearly frustrated. 

He knew exactly what she was doing. Acting innocent. Pretending the tension between them was just some casual exchange of kisses between couples. Giving him a taste of hope, then yanking it away. 

At this point, the grip Imran had on her waist was firm—not painful, but tight enough to speak volumes about the restraint he was holding onto.

"Such a patient man you are," she purred in a sultry voice, slipping off his sweatshirt with her hands.  "It's hot in here, right?" she asked. 

The AC was blaring, the room was ice-cold, but the heat between them was undeniable. 
He didn't answer. He didn't have to. She lowered her lips to his skin, trailing hesitant, nervous kisses along the jagged scar that ran from his neck down to the strong, taut muscles of his stomach. 

A low laugh escaped his lips as he watched her attempt to test him. She knew exactly what she was playing with. He could wait all she wanted, but she knew better than to do this. 

"You know what you're doing," he murmured. 

Jadwa twirled a strand of hair around her finger, tilting her head as if confused. 

"What? I'm just loving my husband... or should I not?" she asked in an innocent voice that sent a rush of desire straight through him. 

"Stop it," he warned, grabbing her hand. 

"But I love you," she pouted. 

He inhaled sharply. 

"Say it again," he murmured, voice gruff as he leaned in closer.  "Please"

She placed a quick kiss on his lips. 

"I love you," she whispered, and he nodded in satisfaction. 

"You seem like you yearned to hear it more than I did," she teased, wrapping her fingers around his pinky. 

"Hmm." He hummed. "I agree. At least I didn't throw a tantrum about it," he added, hoping to start an argument—anything to distract her from touching him and sending him into a dimension where he'd want to destroy them both and their sanity. 

She gasped. 

"Don't even start," she glared at him. 

Truthfully, she wanted to hear him say it again too. She wanted to ask, but she was... too shy especially considering what she was doing. Her knees already felt weak, and he hadn't even done anything. 

"Are you hungry?" she asked, abruptly changing the topic, searching for the clock in the room. 

But his lazy eyes lifted to hers before he leaned into her chest, prompting her to instinctively wrap her arms around his neck, caressing it. 

Tilting upwards, she pressed kisses to the side of his neck; tracing his skin with the tip of her tongue, lingering until he stopped her by grabbing her hand. 

"I'm starving, Maama," he groaned, his voice muffled against her chest. 

She almost asked what he wanted, but she already knew better. 

So she kept quiet, feeling his heavy breathing settle against her, inhaling her scent like he was trying to memorize it. 

Her heart summersaulted, then raced. She knew exactly what she had just done.

Jadwa reacted instinctively, her arms slipping around his neck, her fingers threading through the fresh, low-cut strands of his hair, caressing the nape of his neck. 

Lifting her head upward, she pressed slow, lingering kisses to the side of his neck, her lips brushing over the pulse that beat steadily beneath his skin. 

She felt the exact moment his breathing changed. 

His hand shot out, gripping her wrist with unexpected urgency, halting her movements.

Imran lifted her head, his grip firm as he cupped her chin. Slowly and deftly, his index finger toyed with her lips; tracing, pulling her lower lip down, encouraging her mouth to part. Leaning closer, he flicked his tongue along the seam of her mouth in a teasing caress and commanded, "Open your mouth for me."

He barely waited for her to comply before his lips crashed against hers, stealing the breath from her lungs, the world around them fading into oblivion. For Jadwa, time stood still, her thoughts silenced. Her fingers tightened around the nape of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer, but even that wasn't enough.

It would never be enough. 

Imran's grip on her waist was still firm, possessive, his fingers digging into the curve of her hips as he molded her body to his. They fit together like pieces of a perfect puzzle. His body radiated heat and strength, dominating her completely, his weight pressing her down in the most intoxicating way, making her feel both caged and worshipped simultaneously.

Jadwa's hands moved of their own accord, gliding over the hard ridges of his back, her nails lightly digging into his skin through the fabric of his shirt as she lost herself in the haze of his passionate kisses.

"You were made for me. Mine to please. Mine to love," he whispered against her mouth, his voice husky with longing. "I missed you." 

Pulling her impossibly closer, he held her gaze, his eyes dark with hunger, its intensity making her heart race. "There's a lot to make up for," he muttered, the promise in his words curling her toes in response. 

She nodded, her eyes fluttering shut as he resumed his ministrations, each touch igniting a fire within her, taking her to a height only he could reach. 

It brought back memories; memories that demanded to be relived, for both of them. Memories that made her suppress a shiver, the passion in his gaze burning through her skin. 

The sheer intensity of his dominance.

The mood shifted swiftly, as if compelled by the thoughts racing through their minds. Their movements became a shade shy of frantic, edged with urgency. His lips left hers only to trail a burning path down her jaw, his breath teasing her skin as he reached the sensitive curve of her neck. He paused there, pressing open-mouthed kisses—slow, harsh, and almost painful—marking the moment as theirs. 

"Albi," she whispered, barely a breath, barely a plea, but it undid him. 

Once more, their gazes locked, and his mouth traced the edge of her plunging neckline, deliberately skirting around the delectable skin left bare for his exploration.

A low growl rumbled from deep within his chest as he raised his head, tilting her back slightly, exposing more of her neck to him. She gasped, her body arching into his, her nails digging into the his chest.

"I haven't done anything," he said, watching the way she surrendered to him completely. "I haven't started."

Imran pressed his forehead against hers, his fingers flexing against her waist as though he were fighting an internal battle; torn between restraint and desire.

His voice was hoarse when he spoke.

"But you make it impossible to stop," he said, his thumb stroking her cheek, his lips brushing teasingly against hers without fully claiming them again. 

Jadwa opened her eyes, dazed, her heart slamming against her ribs. 

"So don't," she whispered. "I'm yours, aren't I?"

The challenge was there, laced in her voice, in the way she tilted her chin up, trying not to dare him but wanting him all the same. Yet, knowing what such a dare would mean sent a thrill through her, her insides fluttering in anticipation. She ached for his touch, the connection; the pleasure they could unlock together.

"You understand what you're asking for," he warned, his voice dark, rough with desire and pent-up frustration that had mounted between them. 

Jadwa only smiled, her fingers slipping over his chest, gliding against his skin, teasing, testing the boundaries of his resolve.

"Have I ever not wanted it?" Her voice was low, sultry, reverberating in his mind. 

She embodied temptation in its raw, seductive form, daring him with her provocations, oblivious to the beast she had unleashed within him. His resistance had been hanging by a thread... in fact non existent.

But with her words, he felt it snap, the last remnants of his self-control shattering like glass. Just like that, he lost every ounce of restraint that remained, his mind fixated on taking them both to a world beyond her imagination—a world she had never dared to dream of.

Like the snap of his control, her halter dress met the same fate. She barely registered its demise before Imran dived in earnestly. He paused only for a moment to yank it to the side, his fingers tracing her spine, eliciting shivers from her.

Rising from the couch, he led them towards the bed, their hands busy—unraveling straps,ropes,clips, until they reached their destination.

In Imran's eyes, there was nothing but a burning fire for his wife, his need laid bare. Jadwa wasn't far behind, she matched his intensity, yearning for the ultimate pleasure, rendering him utterly senseless. 

What transpired between them was more than lovemaking; it was something neither of them had planned for, something wildly beyond their control. His dominance clashed against her femininity until they were nothing but pawns in the hands of their desires.