© All copyrights belong to StarsAndMoon1447 on Wattpad

*

Hamza

I would have stood in the foyer of Hania's parents' house forever, pacing back and forth with my fingers tangled through my hair, if it weren't for the fact that Hania grabbed my arm and loudly called out my name.

"Hamza! Focus!" She said, staring at me worriedly.

I looked at her blankly, as my brain took its sweet time to register what she was saying, before I nodded. "I have to go."

"Everything alright?" Fawad Uncle came out into the foyer, looking concerned.

"Papa's been arrested." I told him tonelessly. "He's being framed and I need..." What do I need? I don't even know anymore.

"Hamza, relax." He told me. "I'll come with you if you want."

"Please." I almost sounded desperate, even to myself. "I have no idea how to handle this."

"Okay, let's go." He nodded, before turning to Hania. "You stay here, Hani. I'll go with him, don't worry, okay?"

She nodded, even though she looked anxious.

I left with Uncle, and he ended up driving because I was in shock. My mind was building up endless 'what if' stories, and I didn't want to even think about what would happen if Papa went to prison.

"Don't worry, Hamza. He'll be fine, In Sha Allah." Uncle kept reassuring me, but I was terrified. Money laundering was a terribly serious offence in the UK, and Papa could end up in prison for fourteen years if was proven that he was guilty.

Wait. But Papa's innocent. Why would be end up being proven guilty? I need to trust him.

****

When Uncle and I arrived, there were people all over my father's house, and Papa was still there with the police. The lawyer, Brian, was having a heated discussion with one of the police officers.

"Papa, what's going on?" I asked, worriedly.

Brian answered instead. "They found a large amount of money at his house, money that is unaccounted for."

"What?" I frowned.

"Well, they claimed that it was unaccounted for, but Mr Muneeb has clear bank statements to show that the money is legal and is from his own savings." Brian shook his head. "I myself was called here with claims that he was being arrested, and it wasn't until I got here that I realised that your father was handling the situation perfectly."

"So, why were you angrily arguing with the police?"

"I was just asking them to catch whoever is responsible for repeatedly causing problems for Mr Daniyal Muneeb." Brian replied. "In the meantime, I will be looking forward to prepare a nice, delicious case of defamation against the person responsible." 

I glanced at my father and was once again reminded of what he repeatedly kept telling me. Allah was with the innocent, and with people with good intentions. There's always some sort of threat when you're a successful businessman, but he was never afraid. He built this empire with honesty and dedication, and he had full faith in Allah to protect his hard work from people with evil intentions.

Repeatedly, my father kept avoiding trouble, Alhumdulillah. May Allah always keep him away from trouble and ruin. Ameen.

"You okay?" Uncle patted my back. "You look like you're about to faint." 

"I'm just relieved. In the last few months, I have been repeatedly reminded of the importance of having faith in Allah." I sighed. "Alhumdulillah." I frowned. "Now, if I can just deal with the person who is causing him this much trouble." 

My mother. I knew it. That woman was so poisonous that she made vipers and cobras look bad. 

****

I feel like our emotions were on a roller coaster these days, up and down, tensed and relieved.

The first thing I did when I got back to Hania's parents house was take her aside and hugged her. Hania was my stress relief.

"He's okay, right?" She whispered.

I nodded. "Yes, Alhumdulillah." 

She pulled back to look up at me. "With Allah looking out for him, there's nobody or nothing that can cause him harm."

I nodded. "Agreed. And Papa has remained strong in his faith, constantly. I'm glad that these problems are over." I grabbed her hand. "But now I'm going to have to fight hard to repair the damage caused to his company by these incidents, which means that I'm going to have to spend more time at work."

"Don't worry, take all the time you need." She reassured me. "I'll be right here, by your side."

As I hugged her, I came to a sudden realisation. It's funny how the smallest things can have the biggest impacts on you. Hania reminding me of her support caused a sudden idea to pop into my head: I want to start a family with her. I'm ready. Now it was just the matter of Hania being ready. 

****

Taif

"Beta, kya kar rahe ho?" Ammi found me in my room later, making notes.

*"Dear, what are you doing?"

"Interview ki tayari kar raha hoon, Ammi." I replied.

She sat down a glass of milk on the bedside table, causing me to smile. "Doodh pilo. Kuch khaya bhi nahin hai. Doctor ban na hai to sehat pe bhi dehan do."

*"Drink this milk. You haven't eaten anything. If you want to be a doctor, focus on your own health as well." 

"Ammi, maine late lunch kiya tha. Bhook nahin hai." I resumed making notes.

*"Ammi, I had late lunch. I'm not hungry." 

"Mera bacha." She ran a hand over my head before bending down to kiss my forehead. "Allah tumhain kamyabi de, sehat de aur tandarosti de, aur tumhara Iman mazboot kare. Ameen."

*"My son."

"May Allah give you success, good health, and may he strengthen your Iman (faith). Ameen."

She winced as she moved to walk away.

"Aapki taangain dukh rahi hain, Ammi?" I asked, concerned.

*"Are your legs aching?"

"Kuch nahin hai. Tum fikar na karo. Umar ke saath to yeh sab chalta hai." She said. 

*"It's nothing. You don't worry. This is normal with age." 

She again ran a hand over my head. "You focus on your important interview, and leave all these worries for when you finally become a doctor, In Sha Allah." 

"In Sha Allah. But I won't find success if I ignore my parents' pain." I stood up. "Main aapki tangain duba deta hoon."

*"I'll massage your legs." 

"Mera socha, itna hi kaafi hai. Maa Baap ke dilon se to waise hi duayein nikalti hain apni aulaad ke liye, chahye aulaad itni fikar kare ya nahin." She said. 

*"You thought about me, and that's enough. Parents always pray for their kids, even if their kids don't care for them." 

I smiled.

"Bus jo bhi ho, mere bachay,  apni neeyat saaf rakho. Saaf neeyat ka natija hamesha acha hota hai." She told me.

*"No matter what happens, my sons, always keep your intentions pure. Good intentions always result in goodness."

"I know, Ammi." I wrapped my arms around her shoulders. "Now come on, I'm going to massage your legs whether you like it or not. Aap to dua daingi hi, laikin thoda extra sawab kamanay main koi harj nahin hai."

*"You will pray for me anyway, but there's no harm in doing some extra good deeds." 

She looked at me, pride shining in her eyes, and my heart felt warm and content. It gave me absolutely pleasure to give peace of mind and happiness to my parents. I owed them my life, and there wasn't enough that I could ever do to thank them for it. The least I could do was always keep a smile on their face.

****

Hania

"Our Ibrahim?!" I looked at Iman, stunned.

Hamza had gone home to be with Uncle, and even though I insisted that I went with him, he reassured me that he will handle everything at home, and that I should stay over as planned.

"I'm so stupid, aren't I?" She whispered, sitting on her bed with her legs up, her arms folded over her knees.

"What, for having feelings? That means every human being in the universe is stupid." I rolled my eyes. "Iman, what you are feeling is natural. You are a future doctor, so you even understand the science behind it all, but it's all a part of life."

She looked at me. "Is there something wrong with me? Why doesn't he like me?"

It was very weird to see her act like this, but she was probably feeling rejected, and the feeling of rejection can impact self-esteem as well. I knew that very, very well.

"He does like you, just in a different way." I whispered. "Iman, unfortunately, people that we have a crush on might not always return those feelings. But that's okay. It doesn't mean it's their fault, or that there's something wrong with you, it's just something that nobody can help. All I know is that you are one of the strongest females I know, and Iman Fawad doesn't let anything bring her down, does she?"

"I blame you and Mama for being so romantic-minded." She smiled weakly.

"Remember one thing very, very clearly, Mani." I told her gently. "What's meant for you can never miss you, and what's not meant for you will always remain out of reach. If you and Ibrahim are destined, you'll find your way to each other, like Mama and Papa did. But if you're not meant to be, no matter how hard you try, it'll never happen. We have to go with the flow and see what Allah has written for us." 

"I want to end up with a doctor anyway." She shrugged. "This way he won't be always whining about my work hours, because it would be the same for him. We'll meet for meals, and then rush off for our various duties." 

I laughed. "You've thought hard about this, haven't you?"

"And, this way, he won't get an inferiority complex." She added. "Some guys hate a career woman. It makes them feel insecure. Oh, and if he works at St Michael's, Papa can keep an eye on him and make sure that he doesn't cheat on me."

By this time, I was crying with laughter and had stitches in my stomach. This girl was seriously hilarious, and I loved her to bits. She started giggling as well, and then we couldn't stop, and I felt like I was going to die right here of lack of oxygen from laughing too hard.

Can you imagine? Cause of death: Laughing too hard.

There was a knock on the door and Mama opened the door and peeked in. "Can you guys keep it down? You'll disturb everyone."

"Iman's getting married to an imaginary doctor!" I gasped out. "She's already planned out their life together! Come and join us, Mama."

She smiled and closed the door, coming to sit at the foot of the bed, facing us. "So, who is our younger Damad?"

I'd just calmed down, and her question sent me into a fresh fit of giggles.

"I don't know his name or age or where the hell he is right now." Iman wiped a tear away from the corner of her eye. "All I know is that he's the one."

In a few minutes, the three of us were laughing uncontrollably. 

"I really should go before my own doctor comes and thinks that we've lost our minds." Mama stood up, smiling.

"Tell him to keep a lookout for Iman's potential future husband around the hospital." I told her.

"Don't be silly!" My sister told me. "The dude's still in medical school, probably."

Once again, we were laughing.

It felt good to be here, spending some much needed time with my two favourite ladies. I'd missed our mother-daughters bonding time.

"Mama, before you go..." Iman said, cheekily. "Can you make us some French toast, please? I'm hungry."

"Let her go! I'll make it for you!" I shoved her lightly so that she almost fell off the bed.

"It's okay, I'll make it." Mama ruffled her head, lovingly. "That father of yours probably needs his late night coffee anyway."

"As a doctor, shouldn't he set a better example?" I grinned.

Shaking her head lightly, she walked out of the room, a small smile on her face.

"Appi?" Iman whispered, conspiratorially.

"What?" I looked at her and saw her excited expression.

"Are you thinking what I am thinking?"

"Babe, I'm never thinking what you are thinking." I said. "I'm way too innocent to reach your level."

"True." She laughed again. "I was thinking, let's go annoy Papa, like old times."

"Let him work! You know that when he drinks late night coffee, it means he's working." 

"Appi, you don't live anymore so we don't get to do this too much, and this is our chance!" She said. "Come on! It'll be fun!"

"Fine, but you annoy him more so that you get into more trouble." I said.

The two of us got off the bed and made our way down to his study.

Our father was typing away on his laptop, a serious expression on his face, fully focused on whatever he was doing.

"Hi, Papa!" We both said in unison, walking over to stand on either side of him.

"What do you two want now?" He asked, wearily.

"Nothing, we're just here to see what you're up to." Iman shrugged. "Carry on. Don't mind us."

"Baap hoon main aap dono ka." He looked at her, eyebrow raised. "I know you aren't just here to silently observe. What is that cheeky mind of yours up to, Iman?"

*"I'm your father." 

"We missed you." I added. "We're just here to stand beside you, quietly."

"There's no such thing as 'quiet' when the two of you are together." He smiled, leaning back in his seat. "You're here to annoy me, aren't you?"

Iman began to play around with the things on the desk, intentionally trying her best to get him all riled up. When we were kids, we used to come in here while he was working and caused chaos. We didn't do it to annoy him, but to spend time with him because he worked so much. But Iman and I ended up chasing each other around and knocking things over, but he never got annoyed, not once. I think he enjoyed the sound of his daughters' laughter and chatter as we played all over the room.

I leaned down and wrapped an arm around Papa's shoulders, my eyes tearing up. It's only when you're married that you truly realise how carefree and sheltered you were at your parents' house. I was happy and carefree even now, but now we had to face our problems ourselves. Before marriage, our parents kept us sheltered from all problems, and always stepped in to help us out. "I missed you so much, Papa." 

I think I was even more emotional seeing Hamza's worry for his father. I understood him so much that I couldn't even begin to tell him. If I ever, God forbid, saw my parents in trouble, I'm not sure if I would be able to bear it.

"If you guys ever have a problem, you'll let me know, right?" I told him, sitting at the edge of the desk, facing him. "I know you don't have a son, but you have me and Iman, and even Hamza."

He stood up, realising why I was suddenly crying. He pulled me into his arms, letting me cry against his chest. "Alhumdulillah, I know that very well, Hania. I know you're scared about what happened with Daniyal Bhai, but look how Allah pulled him out of the situation. Allah guides us in the worst of situations, meri jaan, so do not ever worry about me and your mother." 

"Of course." I sniffed. "But I'm here as well, as are Iman and Hamza. And I promise, Papa, I am willing to do anything for you and Mama. Daughters are always underestimated, but they are strong enough to look after their in-laws and their parents. Alhumdulillah."

He kissed the top of my head. "I know. And I know how strong you and Mani are." He held out an arm for Iman, and she joined us.

We came here to annoy him, but after the events of the day, I just wanted to remain close to my parents. I never wanted to leave their side. For some odd reason, I felt like they were safer when I was around them. Weird, right?

"While we're all emotional, Papa, can I get some extra allowance this month?" Iman just had to be Iman. Seriously. 

I whacked her arm with my hand, as Papa chuckled.

I know Iman jokes around to often hide her emotions, and I knew how protective she was of our parents. 

Anyone who thinks that parents who only have daughters are eventually left alone. That's absolutely rubbish. The bond between a girl and her parents grows stronger after marriage, as I now knew. I was also fortunate enough to be blessed with a husband like Hamza, who treated my parents as his own, and didn't behave like a stereotypical husband who always has problems with his in-laws.

Alhumdulillah for all the blessings in my life.

"What's going on in here?" Mama stood in the doorway, holding a tray with two coffee mugs and our French toast. "How dare you all have a family moment without me?" She set the tray down on the desk.

"I love it when Mama gets jealous of our bond, Papa." I looked up at Papa, before giving Mama a teasing smile.

"Mama is so adorable when she's jealous. Ma Sha Allah." Iman agreed.

"Your mother is adorable, no matter what." He winked at Mama.

"Appi, shall maybe these family moments are changing into couple moments, so shall we grab our French toast and go?" Iman asked.

"There's no time for romance." Mama rolled her eyes. "Fawad, Arhaan Bhai is waiting for you. I've made you both cups of coffee, and he's downstairs in the living room." 

"Join us, Mama!" With one arm wrapped around Papa's waist, Iman held out her other arm. "Ay khandaan thoday baghair te adhora ay."

*"This family is incomplete without you." 

"Very good job, Mani." Papa kissed the top of her head. "And you're right. Come on, Mina." 

There was a light knock on the door and we turned to see Rabia standing there, awkwardly. "Sorry to bother you, Phupho, but can I speak to you for a second?"

"Of course, meri jaan." Mama nodded, and immediately headed out with her.

"Guess you better join Mamu as well." I looked up at Papa again. "I'm sure you both are in the mood to catch up." 

"I'm going to go and see what Ibrahim is up to." Iman shrugged.

"Iman." Papa said. "It's late at night, if you both want to talk, come downstairs." He looked at her pointedly. 

"Yes, Papa dearest." She nodded. "I was going to do that anyway. Give me some credit." 

I took the plate of French toast and began to walk out.

"Hania, just a minute, jaan." Papa called out.

I turned to face him. "Yes, Papa?" 

"I saw how supportive you were of Hamza, and I just want to say how proud I am. Hamza has not had an easy life when it comes to family, it seems, but I'm glad to see that you're being an incredibly supportive wife for him. That's how a good spouse should be, husband or wife." He nodded in approval. "Keep it up, and remember, sometimes some people can't openly express their feelings or emotions, but as his spouse, it's important to remain attentive to their behaviour, in order to be able to understand how they're feeling." 

I nodded. "Yes, Papa." 

He began to walk past me, patting my head before walking away. 

"Wait, Papa!" I called out after him and went out in the hall to catch up with him.

"Hmm?" He turned to look at me. 

"Should I have stayed with him tonight, rather than staying here?" I was worried about that. "You're a husband, would you have felt bad if you were in that situation?" 

"While I could see why you feel that way, it may be good that Hamza gets to spend time with his father alone, Hani." He said. "You're his wife, and you have your own place in his life, but don't forget that he also has certain responsibilities and duties towards his father. Maybe they can openly discuss things on their own, and Hamza can ensure that he's okay. You offered to go with him, and he wanted you to stay here, so don't overthink okay? Let the father and son have a chance to talk it out as well." 

 "What if Uncle thinks that I'm selfish?" I bit my lower lip, worriedly.

He chuckled. "Daniyal Bhai adores you like a daughter. He never stops praising you and saying how happy he is that you married Hamza. You have good intentions, Hani, and nobody can every doubt that." 

"Fawad, meri coffee thandi karadti hai tune." Suddenly, Arhaan Mamu called from downstairs.

*"Fawad, my coffee's gone cold [waiting for you]." 

"Go and fulfil your bestie duties now." I smiled at my father, before leaning over the railing. "Sorry, Mamu. I'm the culprit. I was talking to Papa." 

"Since it's you, I'm forgiving him, Hani beta. Otherwise he messes around too much." Mamu smiled at me from downstairs.

Papa laughed and headed downstairs, while I took the plate of French toast in my room. "Mani, wherever you are, I'm going to eat all the toast!" 

"Appi!" I heard her scream from downstairs, and I giggled.

****

Rabia

Jasmina Phupho followed me into my room. Ismael was currently downstairs, also having coffee with his Papa and Fawad Uncle.

"Everything okay, beta?" She asked me, worriedly, placing a hand on my upper arm.

I burst into tears.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Her maternal concern made me cry harder. 

"I...I s-started my p-p-periods. The sheets are all ruined." I said between sobs. "I'm so embarrassed to face Ismael." 

"Aww, Rabia." She looked at me with empathy. "It's okay, it's nothing to be embarrassed about. He's your husband, Rabia. I understand that it's embarrassing initially, but trust me, in a few years you'll be asking him to buy you your sanitary products." 

"I know, but I'm still ashamed."

"Why are you ashamed? It's natural, meri jaan." She said. "Bohat samajdar bacha hai, hamara Ismael. Aur upar se medical student. Us say kya sharmana? Aur agar woh na bhi hota medical student, to shohar to hai na aap ka? Generally speaking, a married couple go through so much together, that eventually there would be a time where talking about periods to each other would be as easy as discussing the weather."

*"Our Ismael is very mature. And to add to that, he's a medical student. Why should you be shy with him? And even if he wasn't a medical student, he's still your husband, right?" 

"But what about the sheets? It's so awkward." I blushed.

She smiled, but not in a making-fun way. "Rabia, pardon my bluntness, but let me tell you something, married woman to married woman. It may be awkward for you to hear, sweetheart, but I think you're mature enough to handle it. My husband was present during the birth of both of our daughters."  She looked at me pointedly. "It's not easy at first, I understand. There's all this shyness and awkwardness, and it's natural. But you need to give time to both yourself and Ismael. Yes, you can be discreet in these matters, but don't try to go out of your way to hide them simply because you feel embarrassed. When it comes to your husband, it's nothing to be ashamed of, okay? You share a life, a bed, and eventually children with your husband, that's how intimate this relationship is." 

Speaking to her made me miss my mother more, and I threw my arms around her and hugged her tightly. "Thank you, Phupho. Sorry for panicking."

"Don't apologise." She said. "I've been in your position, and I can understand." She paused briefly before speaking again. "I'm glad you were able to open up to me, and you're always welcome to come and talk to me. But, I'd like to gently remind you, that Nazia Bhabi is amazing, as is Zoya Bhabi. You can always approach them both as well, okay?" 

I nodded. "I felt shy. Technically, Nazia Aunty is my mother-in-law." 

"I understand, beta, but you need to know that you're never alone. You'll always have maternal support whenever we're around, whether it's me, Zoya Bhabi or Nazia Bhabi."

I nodded again.

"Come on, I'll get you some clean sheets. Don't worry, okay?" 

I began to feel so much better. Marrying Ismael had not just given me a great husband, but also something that I had been really craving: maternal figures. Alhumdulillah.

****

Hamza

Ever since my intentions towards Hania had turned pure, my life had genuinely improved. Alhumdulillah.

She was a beautiful, sweet blessing and I wondered what I'd done for Allah to send her into my life.

I sat in bed, attempting to watch TV, but I kept thinking about (and missing) Han. I turned and saw Hamia on the bed beside me and I smiled. I'd never imagined that I'd have a wife who loved to cuddle teddy bears, and who got excited in snow. Someone whose smile radiated so much innocence that I felt like an even bigger sinner when I was exposed to it. Someone whose heart was so pure that it never harboured any negative feelings, even when I was at my worst. Ma Sha Allah, Hania was a rare gem in this world. She was not just a matter of pride for her parents, but for everyone who even knew her. She was an amazing daughter, a wonderful wife, a loving sister, and she was even a caring daughter-in-law to Papa. 

She had the uttermost respect for her elders, and the way she cared about her Dado was impressive. Everyone who knew her praised her endlessly. 

"I need to give sadqah for her." I muttered. Poor Han was always suffering from something or the other. Maybe her goodness became a reason for evil eyes to affect her so easily. 

After witnessing my parents' marriage, I'd never imagined that I would love someone, let alone to this extent. Hania was my entire world now, and I'm glad that Papa had chosen her for me. 

Once I had gotten home, I'd had a long heart-to-heart with Papa, and now be both felt a little bit better.

But now that I was alone in my bedroom, I realised just how big a part of my life Hania had become. I missed her tremendously.

I lifted my phone to message her, but then I decided to let her spend some time with her family. If she is at her parents' house, she should focus on them, rather than me.

Just as I set my phone down on the bedside table after setting the alarm, my phone screen lit up. There was no noise as it was now on silent, but I could tell that it was a message. I reached for a phone and chuckled.

<Hania: Want some French toast?>

She'd sent a photo of herself, biting into a piece of bread, her eyes wide and innocent.

<Hamza: I honestly can't decide what looks more delicious in this photo.>

Han sent me some smiling/blushing emojis, before adding: <Hania: Are you feeling hungry, Hamza?>

I laughed out loud at her inuendo.

<Hamza: Of course I am. Can I have a bite, babe? 😉>

We continued our flirty and almost 18+ banter for a while, and a thought occurred to me.

It is said that good people get good spouses, and bad people get bad spouses. Your spouse reflects the sort of a person you are. If I have a wife like Hania, does that mean that in Allah's eyes, I'm a good person? Because Hania cannot be a bad person to have a spouse like me, so it probably has to be the other way around.

Somehow, the thought made me feel much better about myself. I'm glad I had chosen to continue my marriage with good intentions.

****

Lots of things happening in this chapter. To be honest, I didn't expect to write it today, but here it is. 

Thoughts on Taif? Does his personality/characteristics seem familiar?

I have truly enjoyed writing Hamza's character and his journey from a brat boy to a loving and dedicated husband.

Thoughts and comments?

Thank you for reading and don't forget to vote.