• Ten years later •
Samra — 29 years
Fadahunsi — 38 years
Hassan — 10 years
Mahad — 7 years

"Hassan get down right now!" Samra groaned.

"I don't think I can!"

"How did you get up there?" She frowned.

"Well—I climbed," he grinned, sheepishly.

"Climb down then!" Samra sighed.

"I can't, I'll fall and break my leg. Mama please get me down," his voice teared at the end.

Frowning Samra scratched her head, going over her options to help him. Meanwhile, her younger son Mahad, snickered in between the elaborate folds of her dress. His tiny hands held on to the muslin fabric as he watched his mother get angrier by the second.

"I swear Prince Hassan Zaeem Fadahunsi you'll kill me before I see the dawn of my thirtieth year!"

"S–sorry," he burst into soft tears, his nails digging into the soft bark of the tree.

Samra sighed, the anger inside her completely melting at the sight before her. The worried look on her son's face along with his tired figure hanging on to the tree's branch softened her already tender heart. She kissed Mahad's coarse hair, parting from him. Marching inside the manor she called for a male servant, asking him to help her get Hassan off safely.

Ten years had passed with the blink of an eye and she could not believe this had been her life for a decade. She had long outgrown the shell of the nervous and timid woman she wore, instead morphing into one that portrayed strength and power. Samra had started with the help of her sister-in-law and husband a school for teaching women from births that were not that noble. The existing school's refused to enroll these girls simply because of the blood that ran in their veins. She had long since learnt how to fight, throwing punches at Fadahunsi every time he offended her — and this time they actually managed to cause some difference.

Two and a half years after their first born, she had learnt of her pregnancy. Her heart was elated, this time she knew what to do and thankfully her parents had managed to appear in time for the birth. They had named him Mahad, the boy was their pride and joy. His eyes were hazel like that of his father's and his skin was dark like his mother's with a loveliness to it. Fadahunsi had been smitten at first sight, and Hassan too could not help but let his protective tendencies show.

They had tried to have another child many times after that, all in vain. In the following seven years there had been four miscarriages the reason behind them was still not clear. She was healthy and her internal organs functioned well — or that is what the doctor said. Samra could not count the number of times she had cried for her babies that managed to escape the realm of this world before she even held them. Each time she broke a little, but in the spring of this year, she had managed to make it through the first two trimesters and each day that she neared towards her labour, Samra's heart built up with gratitude.

"Mama!" Hassan shrieked.

He ran across the dazzling green garden, into his mother's wide open arms. He hugged her tightly, sobbing into her soft bosom. Samra felt overwhelmed and tears covered her cheeks, she kissed his hair repeatedly, running a hand over his soft back. She prayed verses of protection on her son, peppering kisses on his sodden face. A mother's heart does not waver infront of things such as sweat. A mother's heart is strong than all the steel, softer than all the feathers and deeper than all the oceans. Her fingers dug into his cheek and she dragged her hands over his dirty face. With the back of her sleeve she wiped of the soil and mud that smeared across his reddened cheeks.

"Why are you crying my love?" She whispered.

Samra hid her worry and fear behind the wall of her strong voice. While her heart ached and lungs burnt at the thought of her son suffering, she let it not be shown. Instead, she took the child into her arms and stroke his cheek in soft motions. Hoping that seeing life flood into him would make her feel better too.

"Agar mujhe kuch ho jata?" He sniffed.

[What if something happened to me?]

He spoke her language with great fluency. Fadahunsi had been adamant on teaching their kids both of their languages from the day that they were born. His reason was that their culture could not be lost in their progeny, they would carry it after them. Now she was glad that they had done that, for nothing made her feel more at home than to hear her son's speak the words she was familiar with. The ones she knew better than her own-self.

"Par kuch huwa tou nahi na?" She clenched her teeth.

[But nothing happened right?]

"No. I promise I won't tease you anymore," he whispered.

Hassan wrapped his stubby arms around his mother's frame. They failed to completely engulf her but to him that was beside the point. He kissed his mother's cheek twice and rested his head on her neck. The afternoon's incident had drained him entirely and all that he wanted was to sleep whilst his mother's jasmine fragrance clouded his senses.

"Pedar is home! He is here! I'm going to go see if he brought me something or not!" Mahad screamed from the door that led out into the garden.

He shifted from one leg to another, waiting to see his mother nod her head in his direction before he ran off. Like a thunderstorm he tore through the wide hallways of their large home, throwing himself into his father's sturdy arms as soon as he caught sight of him. The young boy nuzzled his head into his father's shoulder, feeling warm all of a sudden. Fadahunsi grinned down at him, kissing his hair and praying for his longevity.

"Where is your mother?" He questioned.

General Fadahunsi had been away on a two week long trip to one of the Arabian countries. He had tried to fight his sister into letting him stay back, unfortunately, his position demanded his presence and he was without his will and heart asked to lead the expedition. He came on the first chance that he got, not caring that he was missing out on the banquet being held in their honor. One more moment that he was forced to stay away from his wife and children was one more moment closer to loosing his senses.

"She is outside. Hassan is crying," he whispered into his father's ear.

"And why is your brother crying?"

"He climbed the tree to spite mama but later found it impossible to climb down. He thought he was going to break his bones or something," Mahad snickered.

"Why would he do that?" Fadahunsi frowned.

"Mama refused to let him join his friends while they went to the fair," he explained.

Fadahunsi nodded, thanking his younger son for bringing him the news. He knew his wife, she would hide this incident from him — saving her son from his wrath. At times he was forced to wonder about how she saw him. He was by no means a tyrant to their children it was in fact quite the opposite. He was tender hearted when it came to them and let a lot of their muddle headed actions slide. If it were anyone else they would have been thrown in the dungeons for burning his uniform, for destroying his sword and for misplacing his official seal. Even then, his wife thought he was nothing short of a tyrant and he felt hurt.

"Hassan," he cried out.

No sooner had his voice reached the ears of his son, did the little child still in his mother's embrace. His tiny hiccups became highlighted as he stopped telling his mother something. He lowered his gaze to the ground and played with his fingers. Hassan shivered as his father walked closer. His heart prayed to God that the man that was his father would have mercy on him, that he would live to see another day.

"I'm sorry pedar. I didn't mean it — I will not ride with my friends for a week and — and I won't go with Queen Alishba to the hunting grounds next weekend. Please please have mercy!" He begged.

"Come here," he motioned, curling his index finger.

"I—I won't come!"

"Samra apnay lakht-e-jigar sai kahiye idhr aai," he turned his attention to his wife.

[Samra ask your precious child to come here.]

"Fada—Fadahunsi he is a kid please let it slide. Or — or else I won't sleep in our bedroom!" She stammered.

Her cheeks were flushed and she stood between her husband and son. Her small shoulders failed to hide the boy behind her completely. From behind the thicket of clouds minimal sunlight shone over the two. Their figures were immortalized, in the shadow of trees and bright light that illuminated their skin, it was all perfect. Smirking, he lowered Mahad to the ground and walked towards his wife. He brushed his hands over her bulging stomach, a soft kiss placed on her shoulder. His long arms gripped Hassan by the shoulder and he pulled him to his side.

"You and your mother need to give me more credit. I did not mean any harm my star. Is it not normal for a father starved of the sight of his son to search for him as soon as he returns home? Do I not deserve to hold you against my chest? Or to look closely at the scars that mark your precious hands? Come on, let me apply some salve to these red palms, and then I'll show you what I got for everyone," he kissed Hassan's brow.

"Even for Humeira?" Mahad whispered.

Humeira was the name they had agreed on for the child in their mother's womb. The two brother's and their father were adamant that this time around it would be a girl, and Samra nodded in agreement. Fadahunsi had a good intuition when it came to guessing their child's gender and she would not stand at odds with him on this conversation.

"Even for her," he nodded, with pride shining in his eyes.

"What did you get her?" Samra questioned.

"I got her a boar fur brush. It's made with the most opulent mother of pearls. They shine different colors under the sunlight".

"Humeira is lucky! We probably got some wooden horses again Hassan bhai!" Mahad spoke in protest.

"I got you two the finest Arabian swords. Not to mention a fine calligraphy set for your mother. Now come inside before it starts to rain," he spoke.

Ten years had been a long enough time for Samra to learn the art of writing. She was a master at adding skillful strokes, playing with the pressures as she wrote. A part of her could not believe that at one point she needed her uncle's permission to do something so simple. Ever since Fadahunsi walked into her life, things had changed. He had given her a glimpse at how it felt like to be a human.

The night was starry. The clouds that had gathered above in the afternoon, had cleared up a few hours later. An endless blanket of prussian blue with glittering dots covered the horizon. Samra nuzzled into Fadahunsi's chest, tracing the jagged marks above his heart. He had tattooed her name onto his skin with the tip of his own dagger. A gift of his devotion to her, six years ago.

"Fadahunsi thank you for walking into my life. I owe what I am to you," she kissed his throat.

"I love you humdum. Infinitely more than the skies cover the horizon. Vaster than the oceans. With a strength to last even the widest of distances. It is in our love that we are immortal. So thank you for loving me".

OMG OMFGG

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