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*

Fawad

"I told Mr Bukhari, that he and I will have a few meetings, and I would get to know about the sort of background Taif comes from even better." I told Mina over breakfast the day after the Bukhari family had visited us. "I may know Taif at work, and he seems like a good kid, but that's not enough for us to marry Iman off to him." 

Mina nodded thoughtfully before taking a sip of her tea.

"Why don't you meet up with Mrs Bukhari?" I suggested. 

"I really do not have a good judgement when it comes to reading people." She shook her head. "I would trust anyone who speaks nice words, even though I know that not all people mean what they say." 

"You're wrong." I looked carefully at her. "You have good instincts, and especially when it comes to your daughters." 

"What are we trying to find out exactly? We have seen how respectful and well-mannered Taif is." 

"A good way to assess someone is to talk to their parents. I agree, that this is not always the case, but for my experience, in general it gives you an idea of sort of person he is." I immediately thought about how my mother had blatantly disliked Umair's family on the first meeting, and she had wondered (in front of me and Papa) how we could expect Umair to be exceptional, giving his background. Their home itself reeked of family politics, and it was obvious in every little interaction the family had with each other.

From my first meeting with the Bukharis, I found them to be very likable, very wise. But it was about my daughter, and even though Hamza had turned out to be an exceptional damaad (Ma Sha Allah), his early days with Hania had taught me to be more cautious regarding Mani.

****

Iman

"Our fathers are meeting today." Taif told me, leaning against the wall by the water filter, as I grabbed a disposable glass. 

"So?" I pressed the button, watching the clear liquid fill the transparent glass. Just watching the water pour inside was making me thirstier.

"So? Iman, I'm feeling like I'm being tested, and you're so casual about it." 

"Papa mentioned that he needs to assess everything, and he told your father that your parents are free to do the same." I sat down on a nearby chair to drink water. "It's normal for weddings, especially for the girls' parents." 

"You all have known me for years now." Taif sat down beside me.

I looked at him. "No doubt. But I'm their daughter, Taif. Even when you give someone a precious object, you get worried. A daughter is a part of her parents, a piece of their hearts and soul; why wouldn't they be careful before marriage, regardless of who the groom is?" I gave him a small smile. "Don't be offended. My mother already considers you her damaad-to-be." 

He returned my smile. "I'm not offended. I have nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of. I'm sure we'll pass in your father's assessment." 

I was paged by Dr Matthews, and it was time to get back to work. I stood up and glanced down at Taif, who remained seated. "When the intentions are pure, everything works out smoothly at the end, even if we do have to face obstacles to get there." I walked away, and despite my words, I suddenly felt nervous.

What if we don't pass this assessment? What if Papa refuses? What will I do in that situation?

Those questions running in my head had me tensed for the rest of the shift.

****

I arrived home early in the evening, feeling utterly exhausted. For a few seconds, I just sat in my car, rubbing the back of my aching neck, as I stared up at my house. I was born and brought to this house, I had grown up there. This has been the only home that I'd known my whole life. Even when I'd briefly moved to Edinburgh for my undergraduate degree, this has been what I'd considered home.

I got out of the car and walked up the front steps slowly, practically having to drag myself. It had been one of those days where I was more mentally exhausted than physically, but somehow the mind's fatigue was affecting me completely.

I pushed open the door and immediately smelled palak chicken, a spinach and chicken curry that I absolutely loved, especially accompanied by boiled rice. "Uff, Mama, you jaan! May Allah always bless you. Ameen." 

She came in the doorway of the kitchen, an apron wrapped around her slim frame.

"Assalam Alaikum." I greeted her. "Let me shower and change, and then I'll eat till my stomach explodes."

"Walaikum Assalam." She replied. "Bring your laundry basket downstairs when you come. I'll wash them in the morning." 

"I'm fully abled, Alhumdulillah. Allah has blessed me with limbs, and a working body. Plus, I'm an adult. I'm not going to dump my dirty laundry on you." I told her. 

"Iman, it's fine, I..."

I just rushed upstairs, not willing to let her try to convince me.

After a long shower, I changed into a comfortable outfit and rushed downstairs to stuff food into my hungry stomach. I brought the laundry basket down, but rather than letting her wash it, I immediately filled up a load and turned the machine on. A

As I finally sat down to eat, Mama sat opposite me, looking thoughtful. "Aren't you going to eat, Mama?" 

She shook her head. "I'll eat with your father." 

"But won't he eat out?" 

"Not dinner. He met Mr Bukhari for lunch." She replied, pursing her lips together.

"Uh-oh." I ate a spoonful of boiled rice mixed with palak. "I fear that expression. What happened? He isn't happy with his assessment?" 

"It's not that." She shook her head. "Iman, you know your father and I don't care about materialistic things. All we care about is that our daughters' husbands are good people, loving, caring and kind. Yes, they should have a stable job, but we're not looking for wealth or luxury."

I nodded slowly, raising an eyebrow expectantly at her.

"We'll discuss this after dinner. Eat first." She seemed to change her mind.

"No, it's okay. Talk to me, Mama." 

She took deep breath. "Iman, Mr Bukhari was open and honest to your Papa. He said that they couldn't provide this lifestyle. Fawad and I don't have a problem with that considering that Taif and his parents seem like wonderful people, but..." 

"But...?" I froze as I realised what she was trying to say. "You're worried about how I would be able to adjust?" 

She didn't meet my gaze or reply, but I got my answer.

"Look, Mama, with my career, all I really need is a roof over my head and three meals a day." I admitted honestly. "I know that I have blown a lot of Papa's money on useless nonsense, but those things don't matter to me anymore. I'm focused on achieving my goal of being a cardiothoracic surgeon, and that's all." 

"So, you are happy to adjust to his family's lifestyle?" She asked me, carefully.

"Mama, Taif has already made me aware of his economical background. Now, as long as you and Papa are satisfied, I have no issues." 

"We're going to do an Istikhara tonight." She replied. "And then we'll know for sure." 

"You need to trust me. I'm fully capable of adjusting and adapting." I reassured her. "I've grown up, Mama. I'm not that silly little rebel child anymore. I'm Dr Iman Fawad." 

She gave me a tearful smile, and came around to kiss my forehead. "I love you, my mano billi." She whispered the nickname that she used to call me by when I was really young.

*Mano billi: Children's way of referring to a cat/kitten; a play on the name 'Mani'.

"I love you too, Mama." I suddenly felt close to tears myself, but in a typically Iman manner, I joked to hide my emotions. "You won't be loving me anymore when I keep popping up here even after marriage." 

She had her arms around me and she kissed the top of my head. "This is always going to be your home, Mani, and you and Taif will be welcome here anytime. But just make sure that you give Taif and his family your time as well. You're starting a new life, and trust me, in the beginning marriage takes a lot of effort from both sides. You can keep away from us from a while, but don't neglect your new responsibilities, okay? Once you're settled in and used to each other, that's different, but in the initial stage, make sure you know where your priorities should be." 

I nodded, listening to her advice. She had maintained her marriage so well, Ma Sha Allah, that I knew that it was a good idea to listen to her. 

****

Fawad

The first rays of sunlight pushed through the lingering clouds, as I stood outside in my back garden after Fajr. There was a light coolness in the air, and dew blanketed the grass; the grass on which Hani and Mani used to run around squealing and giggling, creating a raunak in my whole home.

"What a way to start my day! First Fajr, and then the sight of you in the early morning sunlight!" Mina's voice came from behind me, and I turned to see her walking towards me, a shawl draped over her shoulders. I noticed in amusement that she was wearing my large black slippers, and she looked adorable in them.

She approached me and slid her arm through mine, resting her head on my upper arm. "Jawab mil gaya?"

*"Did you get your answer?" [For the Istikhara]

I nodded. "You?" 

This time she nodded.

We stood in silence for a while, watching the sky turn lighter, as the birds flew around, happily chirping.

"Mani ki shaadi..." Her voice broke, and I realised that her answer was the same as mine... affirmative.

*"Mani's wedding..."

"It had to happen one day, Mina." 

"Yeah, but it feels like it's too soon. It seems just yesterday when she was learning how to crawl, and now she's going away from me to start her own new life with her husband..." Her shoulders shook as she silently sobbed. 

I freed my arm and wrapped it around her shoulders. "At least she found a good guy, Mina. I can honestly say that I didn't even find anything of concern regarding Taif, or even his family. Financial status is irrelevant. They are genuinely good people, and you can tell them in the way Taif speaks respectfully to everyone." 

Even the way Mr Bukhari spoke, indicated great wisdom and intelligence. He had tehzeeb in his language, something that was increasingly become rarer and rarer.

*Tehzeeb: etiquettes/manners.

"Iman may not have the same luxuries at our home, Fawad Sahab, but she will be given the respect of a daughter. She and Taif will be living their lives as they wish, with no hinderance from us. Yes, we will guide them or advice them if we feel that their decisions may not be good for them, but we will pressure them into thinking that we were interfering." Mr Bukhari's words came back into my mind.

"We'll meet up and fix a date, but only after they speak to Taif, and we speak to Iman." I told my  wife. I closed my eyes and almost felt small arms wrapped around my neck. In my mind, I saw those big dark eyes as they stared up at me, filled with tears, and that adorable pout. Mani's two ponytails hung down her back as she tilted her head up to look at me pleadingly, asking me not to go to work. "My choti patakhi is getting married, In Sha Allah." 

"In Sha Allah." Mina repeated softly.

A daughter's wedding was a bittersweet moment for parents, but it was even harder for us knowing that with Mani gone, Mina and I would once again be on our own. Yes, they had gone to Edinburgh to study, but they were still under our care. But now, even Mani was about to take her first steps into the new chapter of her life, In Sha Allah. 

*

Iman

The wedding was going to be in Lahore. Papa had suggested that based on the fact that our extended family was there, and the Bukhari family had happily agreed.

Appi had lost it completely. She squealed happily in excitement when she our parents told her and Hamza Bhai about the date fixing. Appi hadn't been able to come because of another hospital appointment, but she came over the next day.

"We have to leave for Lahore as early as possible. I need to buy my outfits from there!" Appi was saying to Mama as I came down into the kitchen one morning.

"Calm down, mother-to-be. First prepared to welcome the third HamNia child into the world." I told her, immediately grabbing a pancake that Mama had prepared and putting it onto a plate. "In Sha Allah." 

The wedding was going to be a few months after the birth of Appi's third baby.  She had been a little worried about attending a wedding with basically a newborn, but Mama had reassured her that there were plenty of people to help her take care of the baby. 

"I can't believe Mani is getting married, Mama. In Sha Allah." Appi was in tears all of a sudden. 

"You can't believe it? Ask me how I feel! I gave birth to her." Mama looked at me, seeming close to tears herself.

"It's my wedding, not my funeral. No tears." My filter-less mouth couldn't shut up.

"Astaghfirullah, Iman!" Mama snapped. 

"Sorry." Wincing, I walked over to wrap my arms around her. "Be happy. I don't want you to ever be sad, especially not when it's something related to me. I've caused you enough pain already. No more, Mama." 

"May Allah bless you both with an abundance of happiness, Iman. Ameen." Mama whispered. "May you and Hania always remain happy in your married lives, and may you always be blessed with good health. Ameen." 

"There we go, all my problems solved before they could even touch me. A mother's prayer is very powerful." I hugged her tightly. 

****

A FEW MONTHS LATER

Tomorrow afternoon, we were flying out to Lahore for my wedding. Today, my parents had held a dua-e-khair at our home, where an Imam from the mosque had been called over to make special supplications to commence my wedding festivities, and ultimately my married life.

The Imam was at our house already, whereas I was stuck in traffic on my way back from work.

"Move it, you snails!" I slammed my palm against the car horn. 

I could just picture the headlines in the news: The bride's 'dua-e-khair' turned into prayers for her departed soul after her mother kills her for being late.'

In my defence, I was dealing with a patient, and she had actually needed my assistant. It would have unprofessional, and even immoral, for me to leave her behind. The dua could commence without me, but I couldn't leave a patient in need. It went against my conscience and my profession.

I smiled. My profession. Dr Iman Fawad. "Alhumdulillah." The word automatically slipped out o my mouth as I realised how blessed I was.

When I pulled up outside my parents' house, as expected, my angry mother was standing at the doorstep, glaring at me. I winced. Ya Allah, help me!

I got out, grabbed my bag and walked up the steps. "Assalam Alaikum, Mama."

"Have you seen the time?" She asked.

I gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I know, Mama, meri jaan. But I had a patient, and I couldn't leave her halfway through."

"History does repeat itself." She muttered, most likely referring to the amount of times she'd heard this excuse from Papa.

"I'm here. I'll go and quickly wash up and change" I said.

"We've already kept the Molvi Sahab waiting for so long! It doesn't look good, Mani. He has other things to do as well." She pressed a hand against her temple, anxiously.

"Mina." Papa's reassuring voice came from inside the house, and he appeared behind her. "I have explained to him and he understands. You should be proud of her selflessness, putting her patient, a person in need."

"Fawad, you..." She shook her head, frustrated. "I swear, you or your daughters will be responsible for my heart attack, I'm sure." 

"Good think that you have two good-looking doctors to take care of you then, right?" I grinned, cheekily. "A cardiothoracic surgeon and a future cardiothoracic surgeon, In Sha Allah."

"Do not give me sass, and go get ready." She ordered me.

I pouted slightly at Papa, who winked at me to reassure me that he'll take care of Mama, and I smiled and rushed off. 

****

Papa sat beside the Imam, and the latter loudly began the supplications. In the room, it was the Imam, my parents, me, Hania Appi and Hamza Bhai, and the kids were sitting trying to remain as quiet as possible after Mama had gently explained to them not to make noise. Hassam, Hani Appi's newborn son made gurgling noises occasionally, but otherwise you could hardly tell there were kids in the room.

Simultaneously, we were also on a conference video call with my Mamus and their wives, as well as my Phupho's family.

"May Allah protect the new couple from evil eye and from harm. May they be blessed with happiness, good health, and a strong faith. Ameen." The molvi sahab concluded the dua.

"Ameen." Everyone repeated.

Mama was in tears, and she walked over to run both hands over my dupatta-covered head, before leaning down to kiss my forehead. "All our duas are always there for you, Mani. And may those duas remain with you long after we're gone. May our duas act as shelter for you and Hania and your families. Ameen." 

"Mama..." I felt overwhelmed.

Papa saw the molvi sahab out, and returned into the room, walking over to where Mama stood. He reached out and placed his hand over my head. "May Allah bless you with a blissful married life, and grant you and Taif good health. Ameen." He sat down beside me. "Remember my one advice, my choti patakhi: hardships are a part of life, but remember that Allah does not burden a soul more than it can bear. Always remember that in difficult times, and know that you need to retain your faith strongly and fight through hardships. You are Iman Fawad, I have full faith that you will face all issues maturely, and will come out stronger than ever, In Sha Allah." 

"What if I can't? What if I get overwhelmed? You are placing way too much trust in me." 

Mama sat down on my other side and grabbed my hand. "Iman, none of us were born knowing everything. We learn with experience and with time. Trust me, you'll just know how to deal with different issues. You are mature enough, I just know it. But it's equally important that, as spouses, you and Taif should both support each other. Majority, if not all, of my problems were eased thanks to the support of this man right here. Alhumdulillah." She nodded towards Papa.

I smiled, looking at Papa. "Not everyone is Fawad Ali." 

"Of course not." He agreed. "Because everyone is different, with their own qualities. Never compare. Making comparisons is not only unhealthy for a relationship, it forms resentments, and could potential harm the other person's self-esteem." He put his hand on my head again. "Trust me, Mani, if I had even the smallest of doubts that Taif will not treat you right, we would not be going ahead with this marriage." 

"So, you trust him completely?"

"I trust him as much as a father could possibly trust any potential husband for his daughter." 

"That's good enough for me." I leaned against him and he wrapped his arm around my shoulders. "I now truly know what Appi meant when she said to you that you'll always be her favourite man. It's the same for me, Papa. We're lucky to have a father like you, Alhumdulillah." 

"And what about me?" Mama asked me, pretending to be offended.

I paused, thoughtfully. "Papa's lucky to have you!" I giggled.

"You cheeky patakhi!" Mama swatted at my arm, lightly as Papa chuckled.

"She's not wrong though." Papa agreed, winking at her.

As I sat between them laughing, with Papa and I teaming up while teasing Mama, and Appi joining in after she'd put Hamad to bed upstairs, I briefly forgot that it was my last night as a bachelorette in this house. Tomorrow, we would leave for Lahore, and I would come back with Taif's family, In Sha Allah.

And when the reminder came crashing back as I finished the Maghrib prayer, tears flowed down my cheeks as my heart yearned for my childhood. Responsibilities and adulting were scary things. 

Nothing in my academic journey had caused me as much nervousness and anxiety as the prospect of moving with new people and starting my own life.

I'll be fine, In Sha Allah. Stay strong, Iman. I reminded myself of my parents' advice, and of the fact that I had their full support.

****

Jasmina

I quietly pushed open the door of Iman's bedroom and stepped inside. The room was cold from the air-conditioned, exactly the way Mani loved it. The thick, dark curtains prevent even the hint of moonlight, pitching the room into complete darkness. 

I used the light of my phone to make my way to the bed. Mani was laying on her side, her mouth opened slightly, and the duvet pushed towards her waist. Her bare arms were exposed in her t-shirt, and as I placed my fingers lightly over her upper arm, I realised that her skin was cold. Setting my phone down, I pulled the duvet up to cover her. Her messy dark hair was in a ponytail, with a few locks of hair spread over her face. 

I pursed my lips together as I stared at her, my eyes filling up. It seemed like just yesterday when Iman was relying on me for everything, from feeding her, to getting her dressed. And tomorrow, when we left for Lahore, we'd go knowing that Iman would not be returning back with us, but would be going to her new home with her new husband, In Sha Allah.

I walked around and sat down on the bed behind her, running a hand over her head. A selfish part of me wanted her to wake up so that I could hug her tightly. I wanted to spend each and every single remaining moments with her by keeping her close to me.

When Hani had gone off to her own home, it had been the most difficult events of my life. Sending her off, my Hani, my little shadow, had made me cry for weeks, no exaggeration. And now my younger daughter, the raunak of our home, was leaving as well. I was already facing he empty nest syndrome. When Iman had chosen to first qualify as a doctor, both Fawad and I had felt relieved because it had meant that she would be with us a few years longer, and now even that time had flown by.

"Main kya karoongi aapke baghair, Mani? Mujhe to yaad bhi nahin hai ke maa na hona kaisa hota hai." I whispered as tears escaped rapidly. 

*"What would I do without you, Mani? I don't even remember what it was like to not be a mother." 

I lay down beside her, turning off my phone light. 

"Mama?" She muttered.

"I'm here, Mani." I placed a hand over her upper arm.

She turned so that she was facing me. "You're the first person complaining about having peace in her life." 

I laughed, surprised. I should have known that Iman would joke around to make me laugh. While Iman normally didn't get emotional openly, I knew that she deeply sensed my emotions, and if I'm upset she always did her best to cheer me up. It was a trait she had directly inherited from Fawad. "Maybe I'm used to the chaos. Maybe I love the chaos." 

"Well, chaos loves you too, Mama, but it's time this chaos creates new trouble elsewhere." She sounded like she was smiling.

"Do not even mention trouble, Mani." 

She snuggled closer to me, and I heard her yawn. "Don't worry about me, Mama meri jaan. I can handle whatever life throws at me, In Sha Allah."

"I hope life only throws good things at you, In Sha Allah." 

She didn't reply, and I heard her breathing evenly. I kissed her forehead and smiled.

My sweet little Mano Billi.

*

FLASHBACK

"Mama!" Hani looked at me irritated. Everywhere she moved in the living room, Iman crawled towards her, following her.

I just laughed. "Aww, she adores you." 

"Tell her to stop!" Hania pouted as she continued playing with her doll. 

Speedily, Iman crawled towards her again.

"Aww, she's such a mano billi!" I placed a hand over my heart, smiling.

Iman squealed happily as she reached her elder sister, but Hania ran away again. 

"Hania, play with her for a bit, jaan. Look, she just wants her elder sister." I told my firstborn.

Hania scowled, but sat down on the floor cross-legged. Iman crawled up on her and tried to eat her face with her toothless mouth. 

"Mama!" Hania looked at me, but I was too busy filming that adorable moment.

"She loves you so much, Hani." I said, once I'd finished filming. "She's kissing you in her own way." 

Hania looked amazed. 

I got down onto the floor beside my girls, and leaned down to kiss Iman's cheek. Hania copied my action and kissed her sister's other cheek. I then kissed my Hani's cheek. "See? We all love each other. This is how Iman shows her affection towards you, by following you and by 'kissing' you."

Hania wrapped her arms around her sister, holding her in her lap. "My baby sister, Mani." 

I watched my daughters, my heart filled with love. With the blessings of Allah, Fawad and I had created a beautiful family, a beautiful life together. And I wouldn't give this up for anything in the world. 

At that time, the idea of their weddings wasn't even in my head. We were living in our adorable little world, the four of us, our lives filled with love and warmth.

*

PRESENT

And as Iman stepped out of the house and glanced up at it, I saw a glimpse of tears in her eyes. 

I felt my own eyes well up as I remembered the day Fawad and I had brought her home for the very first time, when my mother was also present.

I'd always feared the consequences of old age, and I had always prayed to Allah to keep my memories intact as much as possible. These sweet memories were all Fawad and I would have left, after seeing our second daughter also leave us for a new life. We had each other, of course, but after years of being parents to Hania and Iman, it would be a different experience to just be a husband and wife again, with no central responsibility towards our daughters.

"The map is showing traffic on the way. It's good that we're leaving early." Fawad's voice made me turn. He had just helped the Uber driver load the bags into the bag of the seven-seater Mercedes. I was travelling with my daughters, Hina and Hassam in this car, while Hamza, Hamad and Fawad were going to come in a different cab. 

As Iman walked towards the car, she briefly paused to look at me. Her eyes seemed to be saying, "Mama, I don't want to go!" the way she had once verbally said when I was taking her to school. Her eyes were pleading with me in a similar manner, and again, I had no choice but to take the tough decision of not falling weak to her requests. I took her hand, and we walked to the car.

"Khalla, sit with me!" Hina shouted from inside the car.

"Hina, don't shout!" Hania immediately told her off.

I sat beside Hassam's car seat, while Hina, Hania and Iman sat on the three seats directly facing us. 

"We'll call you when we reach the airport." Fawad told me through the open doorway.

"I want to go with Nana Jaan!" Hina cried out suddenly, attempting to free herself from her seat belt.

"Hina..." Hania looked at her. "Stay seated. You're going with us!"

"Nana Jaan!" Hina pouted and stared at him wide-eyed in a shockingly familiar way. She held out her arms towards him.

"Come on." Fawad, naturally a softie, nodded. "Hania, take her seat belt off. We'll take her." 

Hania shook her head in disapproval at her daughter, but obeyed her father. Hina got up and I helped her pass me by, until she jumped straight into Fawad's arms.

Fortunately, in all this, Iman had cheered up a lot.

"Bye!" Hina waved at us from the safety of my husband's arms.

Fawad closed the door and stood aside as we drove off. 

Hania and Iman constantly chatted away, reminding me of the long car rides when they were laughing and giggling throughout the drive, keeping me and Fawad amused. I occasionally kept glancing at my daughters, even as I kept my eye on Hassam. 

Iman used to taunt her elder sister for being socially awkward and was often rude to her. But now, I watched my younger daughter hold my older daughter's hand as they laughed, it was hard to imagine that Iman had ever resented her. 

While Hania was a shadow of me, and ultimately also resembled my mother in that sense, Iman definitely went after her father, down to even the most minor of expressions. It almost gave me goosebumps to see our daughters. 

"Right, Mama?" Hania's voice made me jump out of my thoughts and I looked at her. She was looking back at me expectantly, as if waiting for me to answer her question.

"Sorry, what?" I shook my head to clear the train of thoughts.

"She already misses Papa. Haye Allah!" Iman dramatically smacked her forehead.

"Miss him? He's going with us." I resisted the old urge to roll my eyes.

The girls giggled.

"I was saying," Hania said after she'd caught her breath. "That Taif would want to visit you and Papa more than Iman. You'll see. He'll be the one suggesting that they visit you and Papa. Right, Mama?" 

"Oh, no doubt." I joined in.

"You mean like how it is with Hamza Bhai?" Iman shot back.

The girls kept teasing each other the whole way, and I sat back and relaxed.

For the next two weeks, I could forget about the fact that Fawad and I would return to our large, empty home. In Sha Allah. I forgot about how it would feel to be completely on my own while my husband was at work. Even though Iman worked as well, it would be strange to think that she wouldn't be coming back. 

For the next two weeks I was going to forget that I was basically retiring from my role as a mother in a way, no longer being a central figure in either of their lives. 

And it was good that the wedding events would divert my mind. Because each time I even started to think about it, my heart wanted to burst.

****

Basically a completely fresh chapter.

I showed the emotions around Hani's departure in Belong Together, but again, there wasn't much detail regarding Iman.

While Hania's departure was difficult for FawMina, it is even worse during Iman's time because she's their youngest, and now they would be on their own.

Thoughts and comments?

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