Adar

Never in a million years did he think he would have the most beautiful woman sleeping soundly in his arms. Her head rested on his chest, raven hair sprawled against the pillows in waves of black, chaotic and free. His wife breathed evenly, lips parted ever so slightly, and the deep rose color of them was a hard temptation.

Over the years, Adar took luxury of her soft lips countless of times, yet each time that he did felt like a new taste all over again, a familiar sense of belonging, a home for his love. Absentmindedly, he traced the curve of her sun-kissed cheeks with his knuckles, touch as soft as a rose petal, gentle as a flowing stream.

She stirred in her sleep, and he found himself smiling down, eager to see those captivating dark eyes.

"Why are you awake?" she groggily asked, snuggling closer to the firm muscles of his chest.

He couldn't stop his grin as he placed a chaste kiss on the crown of her head, allowing the heat of the touch to linger. "To spend my morning staring at you of course," he whispered against her skin. His hand traveled along the curves of her body, stopping at her hip. "How else will I cherish such a beauty?"

She yawned, stretching against him. "You are still such a flirt," she said, laughing. "Are the kids awake yet?"

"They've been asleep since Fajr (dawn prayer)." A dreamy grin crossed him as he pulled Rabiya back into his arms, caging her to his body as she laughed in that velvet melody of hers. "Which means we have a peaceful morning to ourselves."

His wife slapped his chest, causing a grumble to escape him. "The least you could do is wake up early and make me a cup of tea."

"Now, where would I have the time to admire you?" he mused, sitting up. "With eyes as mischievous and sultry as yours, I would be a fool to pass up on a morning in bed with you."

They started to laugh in each other's presence, the sound coming out effortlessly. Like always, their small round of banters led to a wave of euphoria to embrace them, full of the the light from early in their marriage and consumed by the flame that continued to grow.

The more time Adar spent with his wife, the more he allowed her flames to burn him.

Loud pattering of footsteps dragged their attention away as the yelling and fighting of small children entered their room. Lucky for his kids, their parents were still fully clothed.

Adar sighed, sending his wife a longing glance.

"Abbu (father)! Ammu (mother)!" yelled the chorus of voices as their bedroom door was pushed open.

Their daughters came running in, hopping on the bed and into their parents awaiting arms. The eldest daughter, Naeema, walked into their bedroom with a blank expression, glaring at her siblings.

"I told you to wake them up quietly, not to jump on their beds!" she exclaimed. Naeema pinched the bridge of her nose. "You two ruin everything."

Safa, who was ten and the middle child, only shrugged. "There's no fun in being quiet."

Rabiya gathered their youngest daughters into her arms, kissing the crowns of their head.

Through their marriage, the couple were blessed with three overly active girls, Naeema, Safa, and Afrah. The oldest being a fourteen year old high school student and the youngest barely above the age of eight.

Adar tilted his head at Naeema, a teasing glint in his dark eyes. "Cooking breakfast, are you?" he asked as he raised a brow. "Is there something we should know about?"

Naeema played with her plaited black hair, rich brown eyes looking away from her father's know-it-all gaze. "I-I have no idea what you're talking about," she nervously laughed. There was a faint tint to her golden skin, a sign of guilt. "I thought it would be a good idea to make food for my two favorite people."

Throwing his head back in a deep laughter, he shook his head. "What was it this time?"

His two youngest daughters began to giggle, their mother shushing them with a stern look.

Knowing that her parents saw right through her, she decided to confess. "I saw this makeup kit on sale, and I really want it."

His smile fell almost instantly. "We talked about this, Naeema," sighed Adar.

"Please," she begged. "All the other girls at my school wear lipstick and eyeshadow."

"I'm not their father."

"Why can't I?" she scowled.

"Because you're too young," he said calmly, though his temper was steadily rising.

"But-"

"Naeema," said Rabiya, patting at the space in front of her. "Sit here."

Their daughter obediently followed, sitting beside her mother with curious brown eyes, a gaze that reminded Adar of the time he and Rabiya took a shortcut to school. He smiled fondly at the memory, knowing his wife was a great role model for their children.

Naeema wore hijab all on her own, being inspired by her mother's faith and the stories they read to her of the women in Islamic history, how women fought in the wars, how they played a key role in shaping the century in which the holy Qur'an was revealed. Their daughters grew up knowing that their worth came from Allah and no one else.

Safa started wearing her hijab fully within the recent year while the youngest was eager to start. Adar knew his daughters should make the decision themselves because they would be the ones wearing hijab, so they should understand why they wore it before making a commitment.

However, they were strict with other aspects of their lives. This was one of them.

"Ammu, you know I stay away from anything haram (forbidden), but it's a new trend in high school. I'm already stared at for my hijab, and this would help me fit in," Naeema tried to reason.

"Darling, you're only fourteen," said his wife softly. She cupped Naeema's cheek, brushing the soft skin with her thumb. "You don't need to wear makeup to impress others."

"But-"

"Naeema, you are still growing into your identity, still navigating through the rocky shores of adolescence. There is no need to start with makeup now when you still need to find your footing in the world." Their daughter was still unsatisfied with the answer, so his wife took a different approach. "Just because everyone does a trend does not mean you have to follow. Trends disappear as quickly as a season, but your identity stays with you."

Naeema was quiet.

Adar sighed deeply, knowing there was more to the makeup fiasco. After having three daughters, he knew there were some things they chose to keep to themselves, aspects of their lives that Adar had to guess his way into darkness until he found the glimmer of light to share.

"Do you find it hard to wear your hijab?" he probed gently.

Hearing the question, she looked up in shock. "N-No... I mean..." she trailed off with slumped shoulders. "Okay, maybe sometimes."

The youngest of their family, Afrah, patted a tiny hand on her sister's leg. "Apu (sister), you look so pretty with your hijab," she gave a toothy grin. "I want to wear my hijab like you."

Naeema laughed. "Really?"

"Yes!" exclaimed Afrah, nodding eagerly.

"If only it were that easy," she exhaled in a soft breath.

Rabiya smiled. "Your hijab is a test in itself. We live in a country where people are not used to seeing Muslims, where they find the unknown to be threatening instead of beautiful."

"So what did you do to cope?" she asked.

"I would always tell myself that this dunya (world) is temporary. My hijab is not for other people. It's between me and Allah, and even if it comes with its set of difficulties, I know that it is part of my deen (religion)," advised Rabiya, her kind smile still spread across her lips. She tapped at Naeema's heart. "That's where your faith lies. That's where you should keep Allah. No matter what anyone says."

Naeema's dark eyes absorbed her mother's words carefully, letting its comfort sink in. "My heart," she mumbled to herself as her fingers touched the spot her mother's did. Crystal brown eyes shimmered in the new revelation.

And Adar couldn't have been any prouder. He knew Islam was very important to Naeema, but even teenagers flickered with their faith like a candle that threatened to diminish with a wintry frost. It was times like these that their parenting played a role in their children's development.

Because whenever that candle flickered, they would find another spark to ignite it.

* * * *

Their family sat around the table for breakfast as Adar continued to flip pancakes and stacked their plates until their daughters groaned from how full they were. His daughters made toast for them and premade the batter. It was the least he could do for their troublesome antics.

The bubbling excitement continued to grow as Safa and Afrah fired questions at their parents.

After years of separation and distance, his in-laws would arrive to the United States. The visa process was approved and his wife had the full clear to bring her family. Tahmid was married and had a child of his own. Her parents were still alive by the mercy of Allah.

In a few hours, the love that they left behind would finally fill their home.

A hand tugged at his pants. "Abbu, I have a question," pouted Afrah, her short bangs feathering her forehead as a shade of bronze stared up at him.

He laughed, lifting her from the ground. "Ask away, little one."

"Why do we never hear from your parents?"

He was expecting this question. Over the years, Adar did not keep close ties with his family. In fact, the only information he ever received from them came through his letters from Miraj. The void he used to feel began to fade as each of his daughters filled him with love, as his wife showered him in affection.

The cold darkness lingered only for a little, and their galaxy of stars lit up that canvas with the sparkle of joy that ignited every time he was home, every time that he held his daughters close, every time his wife smiled up at him.

They completed him.

Adar noticed Rabiya's unwavering gaze, the way her brown eyes worried for his response, an invitation to find his home back in her arms. She never pushed him to speak of his family, knowing their memory brought him pain at times.

His parents wanted them dead, and that was more than enough of a reason to cut ties. His family's safety came first.

"Abbu, what's wrong?" asked the small, innocent voice of Afrah.

He bent to his knees, putting his daughter down as a sigh escaped his lips. "My parents are faraway from me," he smiled sadly. "Even a plane could not reach their hearts."

She pouted. "But why?"

"Because some people will close their hearts to others. Even if they are within reach, their intentions may not be."

"I don't get it," she said, shaking her head.

Naeema groaned. "Afrah, he's saying we aren't close to them."

"But why?" she asked again, looking up at her father with big eyes full of curiosity, round with wonder.

"Afrah," his wife's lilting voice called. "A lot happened before we came to the United States. Sometimes your Abbu and I don't want to remember it. Our lives then were not as peaceful."

Safa turned to her mother. "Does that mean they hate us?"

It was a painful pill for Adar to swallow, to know his parents did not care about his children. He wrote them letters too whenever he could, told them of the birth of Naeema, of Safa's school achievements, of Afrah's mischief.

Yet they never wrote him back. Although Adar knew what they were like, he still held onto a pillar of hope that one day they would see the light. He wished they put all the blame on him instead of isolating his family.

Part of the reason they left was because of his parents. His sisters were no better.

With a heavy heart, Adar caressed his youngest daughter's cheek with his thumb, seeing her innocence all over again. His children did not deserve to be hated because of his past. They deserved love.

Ya Allah, protect my children from the life I lived. Let them grow in a home full of laughter and joy. Let them never forget that Rabiya and I cherish them with all our heart. Ameen.

A smile tugged at his lips, eyes glistening. "It doesn't matter if they love you or not. You have us, your Ammu, your sisters, your grandparents, a doting uncle, and even a baby cousin. When you are surrounded by people who care about you, then there is no need to focus on others."

Afrah giggled. "You're being mushy again, Abbu."

"Really?" he teased before scooping her into his arms and spinning as she squealed. "You little rascal. How can a writer not be mushy when speaking to his daughter?"

"Abbu!" she laughed.

Safa jumped towards them. "I want to fly too! Pick me!"

"Alright," he chuckled, putting Afrah down. He glanced over at Naeema. "Do you want to be part of this fun too?"

She scoffed. "I'm not a baby anymore."

Rabiya wrapped an arm around her shoulder, causing their daughter to yelp in surprise. "You will always be our baby," his wife joked before she stood up.

"Ammu, why must you degrade me to that?" whined Naeema.

"Because it's true."

"It is not! I'm the oldest."

"So?" challenged Safa, sticking out her tongue. "You still cry when you stub your toe."

Naeema's gaze hardened. "Why you little-"

Realizing it was his cue to separate another sibling argument, he stood between the two girls. He gave them a pointed look.

When they submitted with their silent glares, he stepped aside. They would leave to the airport soon. His in-law's flight would be landing soon, and he knew his wife was bubbling with excitement at being reunited again.

Her beloved grandmother passed away shortly after they left, and he knew it killed Rabiya to be apart from her. She desperately wanted to fly back to Bangladesh, but the travel would be too long and there was still a bounty on their heads.

They did their best, speaking to their children only in Bangla to keep part of their culture alive. His children may never see the home in which they grew, but to Adar and Rabiya it didn't matter. As long as they grew up to be faithful Muslim women, loving daughters, and sympathetic people, they would be happy.

Rabiya walked past him, holding a pile of dishes in her hand.

"Let me," he insisted, taking the load.

"No, I can-"

He pressed his lips to her cheeks. "Please, sweetheart," he whispered when he pulled back.

Sure enough, his wife's golden skin tinted with the kiss of a rose, a velvet ember that grew as she flustered over her words. Her full, cherry lips almost begged to be caressed between his. However, Adar could feel the eyes of his children, and that alone helped him rein his control with an iron grip.

He turned to his kids with a wide grin. "The faster you get ready, the earlier we can leave for the airport."

Instantly, their kids jumped out and about, running up the stairs in a chorus of voices. The banter between his daughters continued as they imagined how their grandparents and uncle would spoil them in gifts, arguing over who could embrace them first.

Adar and Rabiya could only laugh at their antics, chuckles rumbling through their chest and eyes as bright as the rays of sun that peeked through their curtains. A wave of euphoria mingled with the bittersweet pain he often felt when thinking of his parents overseas.

His wife must have noticed as she continued to scrub at dishes. She kept her gaze down, voice speaking in a hushed tone. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"I am."

She sighed. "Adar, it's okay to admit to missing your parents and sisters. I wouldn't blame you for it."

He chuckled. "I know, sweetheart."

"So, what has you feeling so gloom?"

"That they never gave our children a chance. They could have problems with me as much as they want, but what did my children do?"

His wife placed the clean plate in the dish rack, turning to her husband with a defeated gaze as if she accepted the fate and hatred of his family. "We can't force people to be who we want, Adar. You have done everything right, and if they still have issues with us, it is entirely on them," she told him firmly. "You are not the man they told you to be. You are better."

His heart swelled with pride, with the overflowing love he felt for his wife. After all these years, his chest was struck with the arrows of her beauty, her kindness, her unwavering faith. Whenever he gazed into those dark, crescent eyes that twinkled like the moon, he knew his home would always be with her, wherever she was.

As a school teacher, she inspired children. As a mother, she nurtured their daughters in good will and value. And as a wife, she brought peace with her gentle touch.

"You truly are a miracle disguised as a beauty," he mused with a grin.

She rolled her eyes at him playfully. "And you are still an unbelievable flirt."

"Even when I first met you, I only wanted you for myself. Miraj would tease me about it mercilessly until I finally gave in," he chuckled at the memory. "I miss him too."

"You should give him a call soon."

"I will In Shaa Allah (if God wills it)," he agreed before embracing his wife from behind. "Though I don't feel like letting this warmth go anytime soon."

With a soft laugh, they continued to talk about absent-minded things, life, and their daughters. Adar did not need passion to burn them in order to feel his heartbeat fall in rhythm with hers.

No, he only needed to hear her voice, hear her melodious laughter to find peace in the chaos of life.

His arms tightened around her waist. Ya Allah, please continue to keep my wife and daughters safe. Please keep that spark in their eyes and let me be a man worthy of my wife.

It didn't matter how many years were swept under their rugs. His Rabiya was always a woman he never deserved, a best friend he couldn't live without.

He had a new legacy to his name as an editor to a top newspaper in the United States, and still he believed he was not enough.

"Adar," his wife said pointedly.

"Yes, dear?"

"Are you doubting yourself again?"

His grip gave it away. "I believe no is the correct answer here."

Sure enough, Rabiya continued to bring him into reality, into the ribbons and pearls that encompassed their lives.

He was enough for her, and he prayed that he would always be.

* * * *

The airport did not change much. In fact, the same smell of spilled coffee and lingering bleach drifted into his senses. It was a scent that reminded him of America, of the hidden quirks that resided within those walls, a land of freedom waiting to ink the stories of the immigrants that built it.

His family stood near the terminal, waiting eagerly. Afrah could not stop jumping around, causing Adar to shush her whenever he could.

But Afrah was too excited to listen to her father. "Abbu, when are they coming? Are they going to take too long? Do you think they'll like me?"

He ruffled her black hair. "Patience, little one. They will be here soon."

Afrah gave a little pout, making the rest of their family laugh.

"Of course they won't forget you," scoffed Safa. She flicked Afrah's forehead. "Grandparents don't forget that easily."

"Neither do uncle's," added Naeema as she fixed a pin on her hijab. She turned to her mother. "Do you think the baby will like us?"

Rabiya raised a brow. "Babies love anyone who give them food and attention."

"Sounds like Afrah," whispered Safa to her older sister.

"Girls, be nice," Adar chided.

"Sorry, Abbu."

And before they could comprehend, a family walked out of the terminal, their handbags sliding behind them. A man with a graying beard and his wife in a classic, black burka. Beside them was Tahmid, carrying bags meant for two people. His wife, another woman in a floral abaya and hijab, followed with a sleeping baby in her arms.

The second their eyes met Adar and Rabiya, their gazes glistened, hearts lurching in their chest in an attempt to reach them.

He felt Rabiya grip his arm for balance, a breathtaking smile lighting up her features as she watched her family run towards them.

Tears lined their cheeks at the years that aged them all, but the broken hearts began to heal. His chest constricted with overwhelming emotions, the thousands of words he wished to say to a family that accepted him as their own.

When they were within reach, the hugging ensued along with waterworks.

"They're here! They're here!" yelled Afrah as she ran towards her uncle and aunt.

"Wait for us!" called Safa with Naeema hot on her tail.

Tahmid gladly embraced his nieces, chuckling deeply when they bombarded his with questions. His brother-in-law was a strong man, and even his emotions rained down on him as he pressed kisses onto their cheeks, the crystal glaze never leaving his dark eyes.

Soon, arms embraced his wife and him. His father-in-law wept as he clutched onto Adar, whispering his thanks to Allah over and over again.

His mother-in-law was no different as she held onto her precious daughter for dear life.

"We thought we would never see you again," she whispered, wiping her cheeks.

"That is not what Allah had planned," smiled Rabiya as her voice shook with her trembling emotions. "I missed you."

She cupped Rabiya's cheeks, eyes telling enough for them to understand.

Adar held onto his father-in-law, feeling the tears soak into his shirt.

"My boy," he said, pulling back to stare at Adar. "You've done well for this family. It feels surreal to be able to hold you this close."

This brought more tears to their eyes, and Adar found it difficult to maintain his emotions. This fatherly love was one he never received, a distant memory from a dream. The way his voice cracked at 'my boy,' triggered a release of the pain he kept buried for years.

His in-laws accepted him for who he was, for his shortcomings, his mistakes, and his accomplishments. To them, Adar was another son. He clutched onto his father-in-law, afraid to let go as if he were a child again, waiting and pinning for his father's approval.

Behind the lenses of darkness rested the silhouettes of those that brought strife to his heart, yet further in the distance, understanding grew like the ripe fruits of an apple tree. No longer did Adar run aimlessly in the shadows. No longer did his chest hurt when he thought of the family he left behind.

Not when he had everything he needed right in front of him. A prince, they used to call him. A prince without a crown, without the might of an army, without a kingdom had found peace in those who cherished and loved him.

His eyes blinked open as the dark memories faded. Looking over his father-in-law's shoulder, his gaze settled on the laughing features of his wife. A soft glow encompassing her, visage lit with noor (light). Even though time continued to drift into a cycle of grief and hope, there were some things that never changed.

And when he closed his eyes, that was what he saw.

----

AND THAT'S A WRAP, FOLKS! Wow, can't believe this story finally ended.

Like I said in the previous author's note, writing PFP has been a rollercoaster of emotions, and they mirrored those of my characters. I hope I did justice to not only the struggles they faced, but also to their love story.

JazakAllahu Khairan for reading this story.

I wanted you to connect with them, to understand the parallels in their lives to ours. A lot of the events in this book were true (taking out the romance and war parts). The village drama, the abuse, the greed all of it is true. It happened.

Some of you may be wondering what happened to her uncle's kids. Well, as stated in the last scene the kids were in, their mother kept them from their father's family. She sacrificed their well-being, severed the ties between families for an estate that ended up in ashes.

It's dark, but this is also true to a certain extent. I don't want to go into too much details because I plan on making a Q+A about the time gap and what parts are true soon. Bear with me, I got a genetics exam tomorrow T^T

What did you think of this ending? And what are some questions you want me to address in the Q+A?

Don't forget to vote, comment, and follow!

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