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It had been a whole week since our 'argument' with Zaid and I felt like I was beginning to lose my mind. My nights were sleepless, my thoughts never ending and my days restless. No matter how much I tried to go back to my normal routine, I couldn't. It was taking a toll on me and more importantly, the kids. They weren't laughing as much as they used to, weren't talking as much as they used to and weren't smiling as much as they used to.

My dad told me a few days ago to go see a family psychologist, but I didn't feel like that would help. I didn't know what I needed.

I was in this constant hole that I just couldn't seem to get out of.

As scary as it was to admit it to myself, I wanted Zaid. I wanted to be with him. Be a family. Forget everything in the past and just move on with our lives like nothing had happened. But I couldn't.

How could I? I wouldn't even feel like I was his wife.

"Mummy, can we watch Zaky?" Hamza spoke from the floor across me as I was on my bed, aimlessly watching them play with their toys.

"Of course, sweetheart." I answered him as I took my phone off the charger and opened YouTube, clicking on a random episode as I helped them both onto the bed on either side of me, holding the phone so they could watch.

Eventually both of them fell asleep and I smiled, looking down at them, locking my phone and putting it on my bedside table. I covered them with the blanket and lay beside them, watching their rhythmic breathing that eased my heart and my soul.

No matter how hard life got, or how far my thoughts stemmed, as soon as I looked at my babies, even if it was for a minute, all worries dispersed and I only had them as blessings to ponder on, and truly, they were enough. They would always be enough for me.

But would I always be enough for them?

:::::

"Bella, I'm going to leave a bit early today." I smiled. "If that's okay with you." I added quickly and she smiled nodding and agreeing with me. The restaurant was fairly empty anyway and I was standing around for most of the day.

I got into my car after clocking off and drove to a place I hadn't been in five years. As I pulled into the street, my heart began pounding. Memories of the countless times Zaid and I had walked, drive and spent time in this street was too much to bear.

"Bismillah." I muttered, taking a deep breath in and out as I turned into the open gates and into the home that looked abandoned. The flowers and hedges around it that Zaid and I used to care for together were dead.

I parked the car and sat, leaning back in the seat and looking at the house. There were no curtains and the house itself looked lifeless.

I took a deep breath and left the car, taking my phone and locking the doors. I wonder whether or not I could even get in the house. I turned the door handle, surprised when it opened with a creak.

I squeezed my phone in my hand and took the first few steps into the hallway, covering my mouth as a soft sob escaped. The hallway carpets still were laid out, the grey colour now looking darker from the extensive dust covering the surface.

I took soft steps towards my left and entered the living room, leaning my back against the wall as countless memories of Zaid and I watching movies, lectures, TV series and documentaries flooded my mind.

All the furniture was still in place, just how I'd left it years ago. The light toned grey couches now matched the normally white tiles as they were covered in dust.

The coffee table we would put junk food on was still sitting in the middle of the room, then back corner near the bay window flooded with cushions where I would always read Qur'an. The yellow cushions had now lost their colour and were faded.

I sighed pushing myself off the wall as I walked to the kitchen.

I had cooked many meals in this kitchen. We both had. Many times. Together.

I swallowed and ran a finger across the bench gathering the dirt on my fingers and shaking my head. Just as I turned around I heard a laugh from upstairs making me jump.

"Bismillah." I spoke, my breath hitching, my chest heaving up and down as goosebumps surrounded my body.

Slowly, I walked up the stairs, the creaking very light. "Hello?" I called, my voice cracking and barely any sound coming out. I cleared my throat and as I took another step, I could hear people speaking. Men specifically.

I took my hand to my heart and took a deep breath.

Why were there men in my house?

Wait. My house?

I mean, Zaid's house. SubhanAllah.

I got closer to where the sounds were coming from and listened to the conversation from behind the door, squeezing my phone in my hand and taking quiet breaths.

After not being able to make out the muffled noises from the pounding of my own heart in my eardrums I stood back and turned the doorknob, pushing the door open with all my strength and taking a step back, looking inside with wide eyes at the men who jumped at the loud sound of the door slamming against the wall behind it.

"Who are you?!" I said, my voice loud but still shaky despite how strong I wanted it to come out.

There were three men in the room, all looking at me with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

"Assalamu alaykum." One of the men said slowly, trying to send me a warm smile to make me calm down. As soon as the greeting of peace left his lips, my tense muscles eased and I slowly sighed.

"W-wa alaykum salam." I answered back with a stutter. "Who are you? Why are you here?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"Uh-we...we were hired." The younger man said. He was still older than me, but younger than the other two who looked about my dads age.

"Hired?" I asked, my mind going haywire with thoughts.

"Yes. Brother Zaid hired us to do the interior design of the house, starting off with this room and the room next door which is completed." One of the other said and I only now looked around the room. The walls were painted to a white colour. The floor was covered in brown carpet, a simple grey and white patterned carpet placed on top.

The walls were covered up to the halfway mark with blackboard. It was a kids play room. Books sat in a small wooden crate on the corner and in the middle of the room was a round table with four stools, pieces of chalk sitting on it along with colluded pencils, markers and paper in a heap.

Behind the table was a 2 seater couch for someone to sit decorated with a few cushions.

The men saw me looking around. "There's also this section, ukhti." One of them said, stepping back. I looked around at them and slowly tread a few steps forward, looking through the archway and into the other side of the room.

There was a feature wall with different coloured triangles. Drawers sat on the back wall with shelves on top of it to the ceiling holding countless toys. I'm the other side there was a bay window, more toys sitting on the bay.

Another round table sat on the corner with two stools and yet another couch behind that one.

"Where've all these toys come from?" I asked looking at two whole baskets filled with toys.

"I bought them..." A voice said slowly. I turned around, my eyes falling on Zaid. He still had his work suit on, one of his hands shoved into his pants pocket. "What are you doing here?" He asked me.

I stammered over my words, joining my hands in front of me and looking down. "I-I don't know. I...guess I was just curious to see how this place was."

"I'm slowly getting it renovated and cleaned."

"I see."

"Yeah."

We were both speaking quietly.  A few seconds of silence ensued and we glanced at each other. I quickly averted my gaze and sighed before we both spoke at the same time.

"Do you like it?"

"You want to live here?" I said at the same time.

We both smiled and looked away. He released a chuckle and I sobered up, clearing my throat.

"I should go." I spoke up, taking a step towards the door but he quickly side stepped in front of me and softly placed his hands on my shoulders.

"I want to live here. With the kids. And you. Soon, inshaaAllah." He said, answering my question from earlier. 

I shook my head. "Stop it, Zaid." I spoke.

"I'm not. I won't stop. I know you want this to work too, for the sake of our kids. You're just scared. Scared that I'll hurt you again. I'm going to prove to you that my intentions are only pure. Bi idhnillah I'm going to show you that." He spoke, making my cheeks redden.

I stepped away from his grasp and looked down, managing to barely suppress the smile threatening to show. His eyes lit up, clearly seeing that I was trying to hold back a smile.

I walked past him and towards the door, stopping at the doorway. "I like it." I said, answering his question from before. "But those shelves aren't good. The kids could climb onto the bay window then climb the shelves and fall." He turned his head to look at them and I finally smiled, shaking my head as I tread down the stairs and left the room, giving a small smile to the workers who were loading their van with items.

As I pulled out of the driveway, an odd sense of comfort and peace was in my heart, my smile never leaving my face, and only growing when I finally got home and saw my babies.

"Mummy, look what Hafsa did for me." Hamza said, running over to the dinner table and reaching up to get a piece of paper before bringing it back to me after I hugged them both.

I looked at the coloured lines on the paper, probably a rainbow.

I widened my eyes and opened my mouth agape. "SubhanAllah, it's beautiful Hafsa!" I said, kissing her head. "Well done."

She smiled at me widely before Hamza folded it back up into a little square. "Jess said we can hang it on the fridge." He told me with a grin and I laughed, telling him it was a good idea as I ruffled his hair.

"Mummy?"

"Yes, sweetheart?" I answered Hafsa.

"When can we see Zaid again?" She asked me, making the smile fall off my face as I licked my lips, clearing my throat and plastering a fake soft smile.

"Soon, inshaaAllah." I told her simply and she replied with InshaaAllah also as Hamza walked away and put the drawing on the table again.

"Mummy?" Hamza said as he tuned back around.

He stayed silent as I nodded for him to continue with a smile. Tilting his head to the side, he spoke softly, asking a question that almost made my heart stop.

"Is Zaid our baba?"

I wasn't sure whether or not I had heard correctly. Could I have heard correctly? Where on earth could a four year old think up something like that?!

My heart pounded so loudly in my chest that I felt it at the back of my throat, my chest heaving as I stared solemnly into his eyes and clearing my throat.

"B-baby, w-where'd that come from?" I asked with a cough, stuttering my words as I looked at him and held my hand to my chest trying to calm the erratic beating of my heart.

SubhanAllah

"Is he?" He asked simply, making me stressed.

"Hamza." I stated, narrowing my eyes at him, wanting an answer as to how a four year old could figure that out.

He shrugged his shoulders and looked down making me sigh and stand up from my kneeled position. I looked down at Hafsa to see her eyes wide, her little mouth agape as she looked at me.

Rip it off like a bandaid?

I cleared my throat. "Yes. Yes, Hamza. Zaid is your baba." I said slowly, watching as he looked back up at me and stared aimlessly into my eyes.

"Not fair! Is he my baba too!?" Hafsa shouted, stomping her feet. "I want Zaid to be my baba!" She whined and I stopped her before she could throw a tantrum.

"He is your baba, love." I said to her, leaning over and sliding my hand over her head as I smiled slightly.

"I don't like baba." Hamza said as he ran out of the room.

"Hamza!? Hamza!" I called, but he didn't stop or say a word. He continued running and I get tears prick my eyes, a lump growing in my throat as I sat Hafsa down near her toys to run after Hamza.

He hadn't gone far. I saw him sitting down in front of the bedroom door.

I sat next to him, extending my legs in front of me and without hesitating, gathered him in my arms and sat him on my lap, his legs on either side of my thighs as I held his face and made him look up at me.

"Hamza, I want you to listen to me, okay?" I began. He didn't say a word but I continued regardless. "Your dad loves you. He loves you so much wallahi. Just like how grandpa loves me, Zaid loves you, okay?" I told him truthfully. "I know, you don't like him, because he wasn't with you and because he makes mummy sad sometimes..."

"Sometimes?" He asked softly.

I paused. "Yes, sometimes. Before baba had to go to work, he always made me happy." I spoke. "Baba and mummy were really happy. He used to make me laugh all the time, just like how you make me laugh." I told him with a grin as I watched his eyes light up.

"If you don't like baba, mummy will be sad. But you know who else?"

"Who?" He asked.

"Allah." I answered. "Hamza, in Islam, you need to make mummy and daddy happy, okay? Allah tells you look after your mum and dad. Don't hurt them. Don't make them sad. So if you don't talk to baba. You will make him sad and then Allah will get angry because you aren't listening to Him." I said.

His face fell as he listened to me.

"You want Allah to love you, yes?"

He nodded vehemently and I smiled at him.

"Then you need to love baba, sweetheart. If you love baba, for the sake of Allah, if He wills, He will love you too." I said, pulling him to my chest and wrapping my arms around him.

"May Allah always make you of those whom He loves, baby." I whispered as a tear slid down my cheek.

"Ameen." He answered and I chuckled as I pulled away and wiped the stray tear.

"So, are you going to love baba now?" I asked Hamza.

He smiled and nodded. "I will."

"Alhamdulillah." I answered with a grin.

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"Someone's here to see you, Sumayya." Kyle spoke.

"Zaid?" I asked.

"No, a girl."

I raised a brow. Maybe it was Halima.

I tied my apron and shut my locker with my leftover lunch in there. I had about 5 minutes left so I'd talk to whoever it was and then start the second half of my shift.

I walked out and saw Kubra. My mouth fell open as I saw her make up covered face and her tight clothing. Her scarf thrown lazily over her head and shoulders. SubhanAllah.

May Allah guide us all. Ameen.

This was not how I remember her. Even when she was younger she would dress in modest clothing.

Maybe this was why halima said that her and Zaid never got along.

Zaid was big on gheerah over his womenfolk. Me, his mum, his sisters, his aunts, even my mum. When we would go out, he would always watch out for us and if someone gave us a weird glance, he would step up and make sure we were safe, just in case someone decided to attack. He would always walk on the outer side of the pathway according to the sunnah of Rasulullah ﷺ to make sure we weren't at risk of being hurt by cars or passerbys. He would fix my mums hijab when it would open and reveal her neck a little.

I always encouraged my mum to wear bigger hijabs and slowly she has started to alhamdulillah.

"Kubra." I said with a soft smile as I walked up to her.

She didn't smile. Instead, she licked her lips and joined her hands in front of her. "Can we talk outside?" She asked.

I raised a brow but nodded regardless.

I walked ahead and sat on the bench outside the restaurant, throwing a leg over the other and adjusting my skirt.

"You've gro..."

"Let's cut the legalities." She smiled, though it was anything but genuine.

"Legalities?" I spoke with a small laugh, raising my brows.

"My brother has come to you fifty times asking for your forgiveness. He takes his anger out on us. I don't know who you think you are, but you've got no right whatsoever to put my brother through this misery and heartache. Those kids are his kids as well. You have no right to stop him from seeing them." She spoke, narrowing her eyes at me.

I widened my eyes and scoffed. "Kubra, listen to me. I don't know what you think you know, or what scenarios you've made up in your head, but I know for a fact that Zaid would not complain about these things to you. Whatever you want to say, say it openly." I said to her. She stayed silent and I sighed. "Fine. If you're not going to speak truthfully, then I have a job to get back to." I stood up and took a few steps before she spoke, stopping me.

"I do not deserve to be stuck at home all days of the week, just because my brother is in a shitty mood and won't let me out the house." She said, her jaw clenched and her arms crossed on top of her chest.

I stayed silent, tilting my head to the side as I watched her behavior. This wasn't the Kubra I remember.

"I'll speak to him." I told her, turning around and walking back inside before I said something I'd regret. If I treated her like the sister I saw her to be, then I'd say something that would most likely offend or annoy her and no matter how much I cared for her, she was no longer my sister. In my heart, she'd always be, but she clearly wouldn't want that.

I got back into work and time flew by fairly quickly until it was time for me to clock off.

"Kyle, I'm leaving. Tell Bella please." I called.

He nodded and waved a hand while walking to a table he had to tend to as I left and went to my car, driving to the shopping centre to get a few things we needed around the house.

Taking off my apron, I plugged my earphones in and played the Surah I was memorizing at the moment as I walked to the shopping centre from the parking lot, taking a trolley out of the trolley bay and walking into the store.

After basically filling the trolley, I finished everything on my list, and extra, and walked to the cash register, unloading the items onto the belt.

"I'm good thanks. Hope you're doing well too." I smiled at the cashier who asked how I was.

"Well, I've been bagging items for god knows how long, but hey, what can you do? This is what I get for dropping out of college." She laughed making me chuckle.

"I made the same decision and I've been on the other drop-out-of-college job for years." I told her.

"Waitress?" She assumed making me laugh.

"Exactly."

She released a laugh and shook her head as I opened my purse to pay for the items.

"Twins?" She asked as her eyes landed on the photos in my purse. I smiled, looking at them and nodding.

"Their dad?" She asked casually as she put the money in the till and handed me the change along with my receipt once I finished putting the bags into the trolley.

I didn't know how to answer, so I sighed and settled with, "It's complicated."

She raised her eyebrows and nodded as if saying 'Okay, nothing we want to get into.'

"Yep." I said, popping the p. "Have a nice day." I smiled and she thanked me before telling me 'all the best' and moving on to say 'Hi, how are you today?' To the next customer.

"Sumi?" I heard as I was unloading the shopping bags into my boot.

I shut my eyes and sighed, turning around and giving Zaid a forced smile.

"Yes?"

"What are you doing?" He asked.

I looked at the trolley, then at my boot before looking back at him. "Unloading shopping maybe?" I said sarcastically.

"Right. Um...listen, it's good I ran into you here. I was going to ask if I could get the kids on the weekend and take them to my parents. They've been nagging me for the past 2 months since I found out about them."

"Alone?" I asked simply.

"What do you mean?"

"You want to take them alone?"

"Well, you're welcome to come, I just didn't think you'd want to..." He trailed off and I saw a small light up of excitement in his eyes that he did a pretty good job at hiding as if he thought that I was considering getting back with him.

You are considering it.

What? No. I'm not.

Yes, you are and you know it.

"Sumi?"

"Huh?" I replied dazed as I turned around and shook my head, continuing to unload the few bags left.

"I said my parents would love to see you again."

"That wouldn't be suitable." I spoke, sounding like those aunties at the masjid that over though everything. Even though nowadays, with the fitnah of today, they were mostly correct.

"Please? I've been thinking of how I'm going to get Hamza to oblige and be happy about spending time with me. It'll be good if you come."

"Hamza won't be a problem. I've spoken to him."

"And?" He said, his eyes wide.

"And he's going to be more easy to please and less angry at you bi idhnillah."

"InshaaAllah." He said with a smile.

"I can let you take them for the day. Not the weekend." I spoke.

"Why?"

"I've never been apart from them like that. I need them safe in my bed to sleep." I said, shutting the boot and facing him.

"You think I'd harm my own babies?" He scoffed.

I rolled my eyes and took a hand to my forehead. "That's not what I mean and you know it."

"So? Why can't they just stay over. It's only one day. I'll bring them back Sunday night."

"No. Pick them up Saturday afternoon and bring them home before nine." I said.

"My home is their home too!" He said, his voice getting louder.

"They won't want you! Okay? Is that what you want to hear!?"

"Quiet down. People are looking." He spoke through his teeth as he glared at a few faces that had turned our way at my voice.

"Jheeze." I muttered. "Listen, as soon as they get over their initial happiness and after they've been fed and calmed down they're going to look for me. Do you understand?"

His shoulders slumped and he sighed as I released a breath and stalked to the trolley bay, sliding the chain into my trolley and taking my coin back before walking back to the car.

"Fine. But I'll pick them up in the morning."

I looked at him and exhaled. "They have nap time at 12. You won't be able to put them to sleep." I spoke.

"If your dads wife or her son can look after them while you're at work, I will too." He spoke.

"They're not strangers to them." I spoke harshly.

How could he think that after seeing them for a few times he knew them as well as Jess or Justin?!

"Fine! But if you can't make them sleep for nap time, and I will know if they didn't, then you bring them back at nap time."

He weighed his options in his head before clenching his jaw and nodding.

"I'll handle it."

"Pick them up at 10 then." I spoke, getting into my car and driving off, leaving him in the car park as turned on Quran, my shoulders and tense muscles relaxing instantaneously with the words of Allah.

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