Three Years Later

It’s been three years since Naaz and I promised to be by each other's side forever. And today, on our third anniversary, I find myself loving her even more than I ever thought possible.

The morning sun cast a soft glow over the graveyard as Naaz and I walked hand-in-hand. Like always. I could feel a calmness settle over me each time we visited my father's grave, like I was reconnecting with a part of myself. Naaz squeezed my hand gently, and I glanced over to see her soft smile.

"You know, Siddique," she said, her eyes on the nameplate of my father, "I think your father would be proud of the life we've built. I feel him watching over us each time we come here."

I nodded, a deep warmth settling in my chest. "It was your idea to come here every anniversary. I never would’ve thought of it myself. I don’t think I realized how much it would mean to me until the first time we came here… after our wedding."

Naaz’s eyes softened, and she reached up to touch my cheek. "Family is everything, Siddique. And your father is a part of that for both of us now."

In that moment, I felt a rush of gratitude for this woman beside me. “You make me fall in love with you more each time we come here, Naaz.”

We stood quietly, hands clasped together, and whispered a prayer for my father. I could almost feel his presence, as though he was blessing our journey forward.

From the graveyard, we made our way to the mosque, the same one where we got married. I couldn’t help the memories that flooded back: the joy, the love, and the overwhelming feeling of finding someone who was meant to be mine.

As we entered, Naaz wrapped her scarf around her head, looking up at the mosque's tall arches. “Do you remember how nervous I was that day?” she laughed softly. "I think my hands were shaking through the entire ceremony.”

I chuckled. “Oh, I remember. You wouldn’t even look me in the eye until it was over. But,” I leaned closer, lowering my voice, “you looked so beautiful that day. I couldn’t believe you were finally mine.”

Naaz blushed, her gaze softening as we moved toward the donation box. Together, we placed a sum inside, a small gesture of gratitude for the blessings we’d received since that day.

"I hope this helps someone the way Allah has helped us," she whispered.

I wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “It will. I’m sure of it. Just as I’m sure He brought us together for a reason.”

Our next stop was the orphanage, a place we both held close to our hearts. When we arrived, the kids greeted us with bright smiles and excited chatter. Naaz immediately knelt down to hug a few of them, her face glowing with joy.

"Look who’s here!” I called out, and the kids flocked around her, clinging to her hands and pulling her into their world.

As we handed out plates of biryani for lunch, one little girl of age six tugged on my sleeve, looking up with wide eyes. “Uncle, why do you and Aunty always come here?”

Naaz looked at me, and I felt my chest tighten with affection. “Because we love seeing you all smile,” I replied, patting her head. "And because we feel like you’re a part of our family too."

Naaz laughed as the children crowded around, asking for stories and laughing at every joke. She turned to me, eyes shining. "This is the best part of the day, isn’t it?”

I grinned, nodding. "Absolutely. There's nothing quite like seeing these kids happy."

As we prepared to leave, a boy raised his voice over the others. “Come back soon, okay? And bring more biryani!”

We both laughed, promising to visit again. Naaz leaned into me as we walked back to the car, her hand resting on my arm.

“Every year, it feels even more special,” she murmured. “I love these kids, Siddique. I love being able to give back, even if it's just a little."

I kissed her forehead, my heart full. “You give more than you realize, Naaz. To them. To me. To everyone around you.”

As we drove away from the orphanage, I looked at her and felt that familiar swell of gratitude all over again. This woman wasn’t just my wife; she was the light in my life, the strength behind every step I took.

We arrived at Naaz’s parents’ house just in time for lunch, and as expected, her family was already gathered in the living room. Rizwan spotted us first, standing to greet us with a grin.

“Finally! Took you two long enough to get here,” he teased, pulling Naaz into a hug before shaking my hand.

“Some of us still have a few stops to make on our anniversary,” I replied, nudging him playfully.

Her mom was quick to welcome us with a warm hug, holding Naaz close for a moment. “It’s wonderful to see you two. We were just talking about your anniversary plans!” she said, her smile as bright as Naaz’s.

Lunch was a lively affair. Both families were gathered around the table, with everyone chatting and laughing, passing around dishes of food. It was a comforting kind of chaos, and I felt so much at ease being surrounded by them all. Her father shared some old stories that had everyone in stitches.

"Mom, have more," Naaz said laughing as she served Mom another plate of biryani. Well, Naaz started to call my mother Mom after six months of our marriage.

Mom was so happy and emotional that she freaking cried, hugging her. Seeing her crying, Naaz cried, too. I was so shocked to see that. When Naaz informed Rizwan about it, he laughed making fun of them.

Rizwan is an Asshole with a capital "A".

Just then, the doorbell rang. I saw the slight shift in Rizwan and Naaz’s expression, and I knew exactly who’d arrived.

“Oh great,” Rizwan muttered under his breath as Mariyam and her family walked in, their polite smiles fixed as they joined us at the table.

I glanced at Naaz, raising an eyebrow. “Play nice,” I murmured, fighting a smile.

She shot me a look. “I’m trying.”

For a moment, everything seemed calm—until, of course, Rizwan and Mariyam locked eyes. There it was, that ever-present tension, sparking between them like flint and steel.

“Rizwan, aren’t you going to say hello to Mariyam?” Naaz’s mom asked, oblivious to the silent storm brewing between the two.

“Oh, sure,” Rizwan said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Hello… Old lady.”

Mariyam scoffed. “Hello to you too, little boy,” she replied, placing exaggerated emphasis on the “little boy”.

I rolled my eyes seeing their cat-and-mouse interaction.

Rizwan’s face twisted into a scowl. “Stop calling me that. I told you I’m not that little. I'm 21.”

“And I told you,” she snapped back, “that I’m not an old lady. I'm just 24. Show some respect, that I deserve!”

“Respect?” Rizwan’s voice rose, and everyone at the table paused, staring at the two of them in surprise. “Calling me something I hate, won't make me give you respect either.”

Mariyam rolled her eyes. “You know, if you were actually respectful, you wouldn’t mind. But you’ve always been annoying.”

“Annoying?” Rizwan scoffed. “I’d say it's the other way around here.”

"Asshole," she shot back.

"Bitch,"

Naaz leaned closer to me, whispering, “If they don’t kill each other now, it’ll be a miracle.”

I chuckled, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. “It’s good entertainment, at least. Enjoy.”

But just as the tension started to boil, Naaz’s mom stepped in with a cheerful smile. “All right, you two,” she said, clapping her hands. “Enough of that. We’re here to celebrate Siddique and Naaz’s anniversary, remember?”

With a final glare, Rizwan and Mariyam looked away from each other, grumbling under their breaths. Naaz smirked, clearly pleased that Rizwan hadn’t backed down.

After lunch, it was time for me to head to the shop, and I could see the disappointment in Naaz’s eyes as I got ready to leave.

“You’re really going to work today?” she pouted, crossing her arms as she followed me to the front door.

I sighed, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I have a few things I need to take care of, but I’ll be back soon, okay?”

Her lips pursed, still unconvinced. “You’re really going to leave me on our anniversary?”

The sadness in her eyes tugged at my heart, so I pulled her close, tilting her chin up until our gazes met. “Not entirely,” I murmured, leaning in and pressing my lips to hers in a kiss that grew deeper, more heated, until her arms slipped around my neck and her anger melted into something else entirely.

When we finally pulled away, her cheeks were flushed, her breaths shallow. I brushed my thumb along her cheek. “I’ll make it up to you tonight,” I promised, my voice low. “Even if I have to take a shower before Fajr, I’ll make sure you’re not disappointed.”

She laughed, swatting at me, but her eyes sparkled with happiness. “You’d better keep that promise, Siddique.”

“Oh, I will,” I said, winking at her before giving her one last kiss and stepping out the door.

At the shop, as I went through my usual tasks, I kept catching myself smiling, thinking about Naaz. Lately, she’d been more emotional, her moods shifting from one extreme to another. One moment she was laughing, the next she’d be snapping at me, then apologizing with tears in her eyes. It hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Just the other day, Rizwan had raised a brow and suggested, “You know, brother, those mood swings might mean something.”

“Like what?” I’d asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

Rizwan grinned, crossing his arms. “Like, maybe… she’s pregnant.”

His words had stayed with me since, and I couldn’t shake the feeling he might be right. The idea of becoming a father, of holding our child in my arms, was overwhelming—but I didn’t want to get my hopes up just yet. We’d need to visit a doctor to be sure, but still… the thought lingered in my mind, making my heart beat a little faster.

The shop bustled with the usual crowd as I moved from one customer to the next, exchanging pleasantries and making sure each person left satisfied. I’d grown to love this routine—the way people came and went, the conversations, the laughter. It was a small world, but it was mine.

Around late afternoon, Uncle Rahman joined me at the counter for our usual tea. He sat with a broad smile, and I noticed his eyes had that special gleam.

“You’re looking happier than usual today, Uncle,” I commented, handing him his cup of tea.

Uncle Rahman chuckled. “I’m going to be a grandfather, Siddique. My son just told me. His wife is pregnant!”

The news filled me with joy, and I reached over to pat his shoulder. “That’s amazing! Congratulations, Uncle! May Allah bless your family and your grandchild.”

“Ameen,” he said, his voice soft with gratitude. “Siddique, there’s no feeling like knowing a little one will come into the world, bringing new life and joy to everyone.”

As he spoke, my mind drifted to Naaz. What if? Could it be? I offered a silent prayer to Allah, asking for the same joy in my life—that Naaz might be carrying our child. The thought stirred something deep inside me, a mix of excitement and a touch of nerves.

Just then, Zahir walked into the shop, his familiar grin lighting up his face. He’d been coming by more often lately, and our friendship had grown stronger. There was something in him now that I hadn’t seen before—a lightness, a hope I had prayed for him to find.

“Hey, Siddique! Still serving the finest teas in town, I see,” he teased, clapping me on the back.

“Nothing but the best for a man who’s finally taking care of himself,” I replied, giving him a playful nudge.

He chuckled, taking a seat beside me. “The therapy has been helping a lot, you know. I feel… like a different person.” He looked away for a moment, his voice quiet. “After everything I went through… it’s a miracle I’m here, smiling, talking about the future.”

“Allah hears our prayers, Zahir,” I said, my voice gentle. I asked him to do Umrah too, for seeking guidance and peace from Allah. I guess it's working.

“You deserve peace and happiness, Zahir. I always pray, he grants your wishes—and maybe even sends a special girl your way who will love you the way you deserve.” I winked, teasing him.

Zahir rolled his eyes, laughing. “Easy, Siddique. One step at a time, yeah?”

Just as we were laughing, I looked up to see Naaz walking into the shop, her face lighting up when she saw us. I was pleasantly surprised; she didn’t usually come by this late.

“Well, well, Naaz! Visiting us in the middle of the day?” Zahir teased, giving her a warm smile.

She laughed, greeting him with a quick “Hi”

“Hello,” Zahir greeted her back then congratulated us on our anniversary before taking his leave.

As he walked toward the door, I noticed Fatima—a friend of Naaz’s—standing outside, with wide-open eyes seeing Zahir.

The moment Zahir spotted her, his face fell, and he muttered something under his breath. Fatima, on the other hand, seemed determined as she jogged up to him. He gave her a quick, sharp look and said his goodbyes to us, clearly trying to get away from her as quickly as possible.

“Do they know each other?” I asked Naaz, curious.

She shrugged. “They bump into each other sometimes. Fatima drops me off at my parents house, whenever we finish at the office together.”

"Oh!" Fatima always drops Naaz at home after work, a small gesture but I feel grateful for her.

Naaz and Fatima both worked as editors at the magazine, and over the past few months, Naaz had been pouring herself into a new project: her own romance novel book. She’d kept the details under wraps, saying it was a surprise, something I’d only get to read once she finished it. Though curiosity sometimes got the best of me, I respected her secret and knew it would be worth the wait. Whatever she’d written, I was certain it would be incredible—a reflection of her heart and her talent.

I chuckled, watching Zahir disappear around the corner, Fatima still trailing after him. “Poor Zahir. He looks like he’s seen a ghost.”

"Yeah," Naaz laughed, but I could sense something else in her gaze—an excitement and a touch of nervousness she was trying to hide.

I leaned closer, reaching for her hand. “Let’s close up for the day, Uncle,” I said, giving him a nod.

He nodded back with a knowing smile. “Go on. I’ll take care of things here.”

I led Naaz to the back of the shop, where we could talk in private. As we stepped into the godown, I could feel the anticipation building, and somewhere deep inside, I had a suspicion about what was on her mind.

“Naaz,” I asked, my voice soft, “is there something you want to tell me?”

She looked up at me, her eyes shining, and took a small box out of her bag—the very same box in which I’d given her the land papers for our dream house by the lake, last night, then we made love all night.

My heart raced as she handed it to me. “Go on,” she whispered, smiling.

I opened the box and saw the pregnancy kit inside, along with a small report that confirmed it—she was pregnant. For a moment, I just stood there, staring, feeling my heart swell with a happiness I could barely contain.

“Naaz…” I whispered, my voice breaking as tears filled my eyes. I pulled her into my arms, holding her close, feeling her heartbeat against mine. “Thank you, thank you… I love you so much.”

Her voice trembled as she whispered back, “I love you too, Siddique.”

I kissed her softly, still unable to believe it, and as I pulled away, I noticed her eyes lingering on me with a look of insecurity.

“Siddique, if I become fat, will you leave me?" She asked, with tearful eyes.

"Why would you think like that, stupid girl," I chuckled, pulling her for a hug and kissing her lips briefly.

"No. Promise me, Siddique,” she murmured, her voice a little shaky. “Promise me… it’s only me.”

The sincerity in her gaze pierced my heart. She was happy, excited, but I could sense that touch of vulnerability, the fear that she might not be enough for me once things changed, once she was no longer just my Naaz but also the mother of my child.

I took her hands in mine, feeling the warmth of her fingers. “Naaz, you are everything I need. Everything I have ever wanted in this life. I promise—there is no one else for me. I love you, and I need you to live. Naaz, I was always, meant to be yours.”

She looked up at me, her eyes filling with fresh tears as I leaned down to kiss her once more, sealing my promise with my lips, with my heart, and thanking Allah for blessing me with her, for bringing her into my life through my father, who I knew was watching over us from above.

Nothing else mattered now.

Just us.

And our baby.

•-- The End --•

Author's Note:

Here comes the end of Siddique and Naaz's story, but not their journey, yet.

Their journey will be continued even in the next book of the "Meant to Be" series.

I know it was Khan Brothers series before, but then I thought Zahir deserve a book too. He deserves his happy ending too.

Many of you might be eager to know who is the next couple getting a book. So.....

It's Zahir [The Bad Boy] and Fatima.

About the book title, tropes, tag line and when I will start working on it. I'll let you know later. Till then take care. Allah Hafiz.

And do read my other books too. Haha!  ;)

Love you all. And, thank you again. ❤️