Jummah Mubarak my Hayatis!

~6 months later~

"How long was your last menstruation cycle?" Jamilah asked as she delicately typed away on her white iPad keyboard.

"It was nearly two and a half weeks. 17 days to be exact," I mumbled as I fidgeted with my rings. I rolled them over and over again, and they circled on my slender and cold ring finger.

They were always slightly loose, but held a firm enough grip to not come off without me trying to take them off. However, recently, they seemed a little looser than before, easily coming off with one tug. Izhar had noticed that I'd slightly lost weight and had become paler, but I had brushed him off by telling him that it wasn't anything big, just my blood level constantly changing.

"Nouran?" Jamilah snapped her fingers in front of me.

"Huh," I commenced.

I flinched and moved my pondering gaze back to her from the big window that streamed the bright rays of the sunshine and sat up straighter in my chair.

"Are you okay?" she asked hesitantly, her fingers poised over her keyboard.

"Um yeah," I nodded reluctantly.

"Okay so, yes or no?" she looked at me calculatingly.

"Hm?" I moved my head towards her, confused as to what her previous question was that she'd asked.

"Nouran," she heavily sighed. Jamilah put her iPad to the side and leaned forward, taking my sporadic moving hands in her warm ones.

"Yeah?" I inquired quietly in a shaky voice.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" she asked with helplessness etched in her sombre eyes.

"Nothing," I looked down and gently shook my head as I closed my eyes shut and breathed in out through my nose.

"Nouran, why are you doing this to yourself? Hm? In sha Allah everything will be okay," she said quietly and rubbed her thumb across my knuckles.

"Yeah, in sha Allah," I whispered and opened my eyes with a reassuring smile.

"Now, that's more like it!" Jamilah smiled and let go of my hands, taking her iPad back. "So, have you had any excessive and unbearable pain than the usual cramps and dysmenorrhea?" she asked and typed away.

"Um," I started as I scratched my forehead. "The cramps are more frequent even if I'm not on my period. The blood is a lot thicker and heavier than usual if that's even possible," I said.

"How many times do you change now?" she met my stubborn eyes.

"Anywhere from 10 to 15 times a day," I mumbled.

"Okay. Your iron level is extremely low again Nouran. Have you been taking your iron pills on a daily basis?" she asked like Mama or Izhar would, strict and already assuming a negative answer to the question.

"Yes, fortunately and unfortunately. Izhar makes sure I take all my prescribed medication and vitamins," I smiled.

She gave me the smallest of smiles, and I knew that that wasn't a good enough answer. "We need to alter you diet, steering it towards foods and vegetables that have a higher iron content. Your hemoglobin is decreasing exceedingly and before it goes into the extremes, we need to get it back to normal."

I simply nodded along, hearing some things while others faded away into the thin and wispy air.

"Other than what we already talked about, is there anything else that's been out of the complete norm?" she tapped her pen against her other hand.

My breathing stopped in my diaphragm as my mind took me back to about a week ago. I'd just finished seeing a patient, and it was the last day of my two and a half week period. Bile had risen to my throat, and it wasn't long before I rushed into the bathroom and yellow bile came out with streaks of red. I hadn't had any blood in my vomit since that one time when Izhar went to Atlanta for a conference. This time the bloody was more thick and chunky in consistency, leaving a queasy feeling in my stomach. I hadn't slept the whole night, my chest merely burning and throat reminiscing the after taste that I'd tried washing out five times.

I hadn't told anyone, and when Izhar had seen my pale face and touched my cold body, he knew something was wrong. I kept telling him that I was perfectly fine and that I'd be okay. Izhar had made me promise that I'd come to the doctor, but I had forgotten to schedule an appointment and the next day I was somewhat better so I didn't bother.

"I've never said this to anyone, but...." and I told her about the streaks of crimson.

******

Though time passed and everything was back to normal, life had been picking up again and the hours were packed with tiredness and work. Izhar had launched three more new products that sold worldwide, and my workload was becoming a lot heavier. We barely even saw each other due to our time away from home. We both knew the other wouldn't last too long without our presence, but on some level it was good because it kept the both of busy and our minds off of what could've been and what wasn't.

Yet, every month I would test from the take home pregnancy tests and pray for a miracle to happen each time. We were unsuccessful time and time again, but there was still hope in Izhar.

I took deep breaths as I sat on the rim of the bathtub. I clutched it with the back of my hands and tried calming myself down. It was that time of the month again, where Izhar would patiently walk outside of the bathroom door back and forth, waiting for me to come out and announce the result of the test.

The minutes passed from when I'd stained the stick, and now it was time. I clenched my teeth as they staggered together and reached out for the cool teasing stick. I suppressed it firmly in my hand and deliberately opened my indignant eyes.

Negative.

Breathe Nouran, breathe.

If I told myself that the test results were false, then I would've been lying to myself because this was the second test in one day.

I took deep breaths and sniffed up my nose. It was going to be okay, we would get though this. My eyes started to burn but before the waterworks could start, and Izhar knocked on the bathroom door. There was only so much emotion a person was mentally capable of carrying before unleashing him or herself.

"You okay darling?" Izhar asked with a strain in his voice.

"I'm fine," my voice broke from its soft chatter.

"Okay, just-take your time," he said patiently.

Six months passed by like the sun and the moon changing their rotation in the sky, months passed like the seasons changed from summer to fall to winter. Six months passed, and there was still no sign of a baby. Six months fragmented down my hope and faith like a shoddy piece of cloth, tearable and worn out.

The first few times, Izhar was impatient to know what the results were, but over time as I came back with no smile and only hollowness in my large eyes, he learned just like everyone else that this wasn't going to be easy. Every time there was a negative test, a piece of me broke. There was only so much I could do, but I knew that I could pray and cry to my Lord.

Surely, Allah does not burden those with more than they can handle.

I knew that if this was my hardship, then in sha Allah if I had faith, I would get through it. I breathed in and out one last time before disposing the test and washing my hypertonic hands. I unlocked the door and walked out to a very tense and rigid Izhar.

He wasn't scared that I'd be positive and would have to share my attention with another baby in the house except for him, but he was afraid that I would be negative just like before and he wouldn't have the pleasure or the right to fight for my attention; yet, he'd never say it out loud.

His hair limply hung in his face where the richest of coffee beans shamelessly mingled with the deepest of oceans, an easy way to conclude that his tension had gotten the best of him and he'd ran his fingers through them multiple times.

Our eyes met, and mine quickly fell to the inanimate floor. He stopped dead in his tracks, his hands inside the front pockets of his black slacks, the sleeves of his grey sweater that sculpted his waist and blue collar shirt he wore underneath rolled up to the genesis of his elbows.

I wrapped my arms around my stomach and sat on the edge of the bed, not looking anywhere in particular. I felt the bed dip beside me where Izhar sat down. He veered forwards, placing his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together before him.

"For indeed, with hardship [will be] ease. Indeed with hardship [will be] ease," (Surah Ash-Sharh, 94:5-6) he recited.

As much as I tried hiding the tears for him, the darn weak bonds of hydrogen in the oxygen let out, and slowly they fell into my lap one by one. Stupid, stupid, stupid crystals of tears.

We didn't say anything to each other for awhile. Izhar sat up straighter and shifted closer to me. My eyes blurred in and out as I watched the frames in front of me on the big wall Izhar had decorated and mounted with exotic and candid captures mock me. My eyes fell to the one of us holding Sahar together at their joint birthday party last year. I had just found out I was pregnant, and then they roamed to the one in which we held Subhan and Silsila for the first time after their deliveries at the hospital.

A soft grumble and sniffle awoke me from my daydream. I turned my head to the side, and there Izhar's head hung above my shoulder, silent teardrops falling onto my shoulder. He had never cried about having a negative test, not once, not ever, and it shattered my heart to the fine tunes of a cello and to the biting sharps of broken glass.

I wiped away my own faint tears with the back of my hand and tilted my head to the side. I kissed his cheek that was away from me and brought my hand up to his other cheek. I had to be strong for him.

"Hey," I whispered in the quietest of whispers.

"I can't see you like this," he replied with a damaged voice. His eyes were bloodshot and filled with regret and remorse.

"We will get through this in sha Allah as long as we have faith in Allah," I said.

He scooted away from me and laid his head in my lap. He clasped his hands together underneath his hand on my lap, and I brushed my fingers over his soft hair. We didn't talk about anything that would break our hearts again, alternately we watched the captured memories on the wall in front of us and spoke about all the moments we had lived through and conquered in that one special instance. I watched Izhar as he animatedly talked about his precious photos, his passion for photography prominent.

"Remember this one? Adam was so mad because the wind was blowing recklessly hard, and Anam wouldn't get in the picture...." he chuckled softly.

He looked up at me with a smile, and I instantly smiled back. My ears were listening, but my heart was paying his words no attention.

My mind kept going back to what Ammi had said to Baba months ago about my pregnancy and Izhar wanting kids. I couldn't stop dwelling on what Tabassum Aunty had endorsed. That wasn't the last time I had heard Ammi talking about my pregnancy. A few months after that, I had overheard her and Huda Appi speaking in the garden.

"It's been five months now Huda! Either she isn't letting my son attain his pleasure or there is something wrong with her body. Have they been to the doctors or listened to the options of treatment? My son is too good to tell me about these things, why don't you ask? I'm getting worried Huda," Ammi exhaled as she'd sipped her chai.

"Ammi, how could you even think that she isn't giving Izhar his rights as a husband? We can see how in love and happy they both are, and you question their status as husband and wife. Have some faith Ammi! Nouran is broken herself in thinking that it's been months, but you forget that your son is with her in this battle. If there can be a problem with Nouran, then there can very well be a problem with Izhar," Huda Appi had said dismissively.

"Huda! Have you gone insane? There is no such problem with my son. Everyone is talking, and what if I die before I see my son's children? Huh, what then? I've been thinking anyways, if this goes on for too long, then we will need to discuss other options."

"You don't know that Ammi! There could be, so please stop blaming Nouran jaan. If it were me in her position would you have said the same thing?" Huda Appi tried calming her voice.

"Huda how can you even think that?" Ammi was astonished.

"Exactly Ammi. You forget that you daughter-in-law is also someone's daughter, someone's sister. Whatever Allah has planned will happen. If they are not destined for this, then so be it! And what other options are you proposing?" Huda Appi couldn't even contemplate what means Ammi may be suggesting.

"There are Halal ways Huda!" Ammi glared at her.

"And what are your thoughts on Halal means Ammi?" She looked her dead in the eye.

"Marriage!"

Second marriage was allowed in Islam under certain circumstances. A man must be able to provide for each one of his wives and behave justly towards them.

"Nour? Nour!" Izhar snapped his fingers in front of me.

"Huh?" I looked down at him, still wrapped up in my thoughts.

"Darling, what are you thinking?" he said sadly.

"Oh, nothing. I just- Izhar," I spoke slowly. "Have you ever thought about second marriage?" I asked shyly.

"What?" he seemed baffled.

"Uh, I was just wondering if you ever-" he stopped me before I could finish.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but before this conversation can go anywhere I would like to tell you that I have never thought about it," he looked up at me queerly.

His eyelashes touched the bottom of his eyebrows, nearly making it all the way at the top. His eyes glimmered with proposition and confidence.

"Maybe you should," I mumbled and fidgeted with my fingers.

"Excuse me?" he quickly got up, and we were eye to eye. They were flustered and bothered, and his head no longer in my lap.

"It's Halal under certain circumstances, and after everything that is happening, maybe you should give it some thought," I grimaced.

He looked away from me and shook his head. I reached out for him, but before I could touch him, he moved away and walked to the other side of the room. He stood in front of the glimmering city and placed an arm above his head on the wall next to him. The muscles in his forearm flexed out of anger, his back tense.

I had pushed him too far.

I took a deep breath and inaudibly exhaled before I slowly got up. "Let me ask you this. Would you tolerate another woman sharing me?" hurt laced his voice like the most potent of poisons.

Izhar moved his head towards the side, and I could make out the slim crease he birthed in the middle of his long eyebrows sheltered between his thick eyelashes.

I gave an unbothered single chuckle and shook my head. "It's allowed in Islam, so if you decided to go forward with it, with a heavy heart, I'd... I'd accept it slowly but surely," I gulped.

"Liar!" he whipped around to look at me.

I shook my head again with a small smile. "I'm serious Izhar," I bit the soft edge of my throbbing lips.

He angrily walked back to me and pulled me towards him with one arm. "One wife is enough for me to handle, and if I'm not mistaken, then only those men can remarry that will be able to treat each one of their wives justly. I'm sorry, but I can't do that. There is only one girl in this world that I can treat justly with the label of my name, and that is you. If this was a joke, then it was a sick and cruel joke. For I have only loved you and only desire you. I don't know what brought on this question, but understand that no matter what happens to you, I am not going to remarry or leave you for someone else. You've asked once? Please don't ask again," he confidently monologued in a dangerously low voice.

Izhar leaned into my ear with his teeth close to the bottom, and anger brimmed in his eyes. "You're wrong if you think you can share me. You may allow it in that big heart of yours, but you'll die inside every moment thinking that you let me go. And one more thing Mrs. Nouran Bayaan Hameed Khan, you will not be let off the hook so easily," he probed menacingly at me and enunciated each and every word.

My eyes widened, and the small hairs on my body rose up. He let me go, but there was a distance between us that I had created.

"Izhar, I didn't mean to hurt you," I said softly as he turned his back to me and headed towards the closet.

"You didn't hurt me darling, you disappointed me. Don't ever say it again," Darling. It had no ring of endearment, but it was streaked with insufferable pain.

******

Izhar and I weren't exactly on speaking terms, but nor were we ignoring each other. Two days into our argument, and I couldn't make him understand where my perspective was coming from. When one or the other had doubts about something, the both of us would discuss it. Arguments weren't abnormal, and neither were they rare. What scared me was not coming to a consensus after our blowup. I felt as if Izhar had failed to realize my point of view. He could be so stubborn sometimes! Even on a day like today, where I met with Jamilah for a followup, I hadn't told Izhar about my appointment. If he could be stubborn, then so could I. Besides, I had to re-outline my patient confidentiality with her and the hospital.

I was luckily no longer on my period, but felt as if I'd caught a cold. I would sneeze with a slight cough in the back of my throat, but dismissed it thinking it wasn't more than a cold.

"Nouran, if you don't mind me asking, have you and Izhar ever thought that maybe having a child just wasn't..." she shrugged her shoulders, no being able to finish her sentence, but I knew very well what she was hinting at.

Did we ever think about giving up?

I gave her a small smile and congregated the courage to speak on the matter. "Honestly speaking, there are more times when I feel like giving up than Izhar. He has this hope inside of him that maybe someday, something will happen. Yet, I think over time, I have been the one who has wanted to push myself to keep going even after the multiple failures. Izhar hasn't given up on me, but he doesn't like seeing me in pain every time a test comes back negative.

I want this, and I want to give him this tangible gesture. There's a presence that both of our families long for, and I know that even if they won't come right out and mention it, they are waiting too. Izhar is too stubborn, he thinks that we can be happy just the way we are. And yes, on some level I agree with him, but I also know that becoming a mother is this mind reiterating concept that only those who go through it will understand. He fails to understand his own emotions sometimes and thinks that it won't bother him, but I know him better than he knows himself. So no, I will never give up, and as long as I'm willing to go, I know that Izhar will never deny me," I concluded.

"I applaud you for your courage Nouran," Jamilah smiled with glassy eyes.

I gave her a hearty smile and nodded. "I actually need to discuss some things with you Jamilah."

"Yes, of course! What's the matter?" she removed her glasses and looked at me with a small bend in between her hazel eyes.

"I wanted to discuss my patient confidentiality. Izhar has been listed as the prime contact for any kind of information or consent. I... I think it's time to change that," I said lowly.

"What do you mean?" she seemed startled.

"You and I both know that there can be several things that can happen at this point. The fibroids may be harmless to a a certain extent, but if by any chance I do get pregnant, the complications are clear. I don't want Izhar to think that he's putting me at risk. He doesn't know what could happen, and I don't think I'm ready for him to stop trying. Please try to understand," I whispered towards the end, my eyes watering, the mascara coated with a sheen of transparent gloss.

"Nouran! He's your husband, he has the right to know. For one minute, think what will happen to him once he does find out-"

"He won't!" my voice rose. "I'm sorry," I breathed through my nose. "I will tell him if and only if it's something to worry about. As of right now, I don't want to add it to the things worrying him and keeping him at bay all day and night," I closed my eyes and leaned back.

I sniffled and regained my composure before glancing back at Jamilah. My heart went out to her as she tried to weigh her emotions to her professionalism. I knew it was hard for her because not only was she my doctor, but a good friend as well.

"There's some paperwork you have to do," she said, not meeting my eyes.

"Jamilah?" I peered as she scrounged for a pen.

"What?" she shook her head.

"I will tell him, just not right now," I assured her.

She met her defiant eyes to mine and gave a single nod. There was a mutual understanding that passed between us. Rule number two in healthcare: patient first.

******

After working a full shift and spending nearly the rest of the evening at Jamilah's office and signing papers and discussing my anatomy and effects, I came home and cooked. It was a long and tiring day, but that never stopped me from getting the work around the house done.

Izhar was currently upstairs and doing his work. If it were any other day, he'd do his work in the office room by the library or more likely sit at the kitchen island while I idly moved around the kitchen. We hadn't spoken straight to one another since the other night, and I couldn't pinpoint what it was that hurt him exactly. I was asking a question that he seemed to find almost absurd, but I didn't think that was it depending on our circumstances.

I kneaded the dough for the roti, I contemplated what could've gone wrong. Was it something I had said? Ammi had made it clear that she was hopelessly waiting for her grandchildren, and even though I understood her point of view, I prayed she'd understand my perspective too and give me some time and space.

She was right about one thing. Nothing was wrong with Izhar, it was me. No matter how many times Izhar denied the fact that it may be true, I knew it through and through every one of my bones.

Ya Allah, grant us peace in our hearts, for only you can ease the ache in my soul.

I grabbed the rolling pin from the side and settled it on top of the small rounded piece of soft dough. Roll, spin. Roll, spin. What is the problem Izhar? Roll, spin. He could be such a child sometimes! Uff.

Allah knew Izhar was a handful sometimes and a baby himself, maybe that's why there was delay.

I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand, trying not to get flour on me as the small layers of my hair came to the front and in my eyes. I got lost in thought as I rolled the roti over and over again. Just the idea of him being mad and upset with me made me furious. Was he bewakoof enough to think that I would be gleeful if he remarried? Idiot! Yes, I would eventually accept it, but no, I couldn't imagine another woman in his arms, wearing his ring on her finger, or his name on her seductive lips.

Roll, spin. Roll, spin. Spin, spin, spin.

"Nouran?" Izhar called.

"WHAT!?" I whipped around, my ears fuming red.

"Umm," he recoiled with shock.

I tried calming down as I fumbled in grasping his abrupt presence. What did he want? Oh God Nouran, calm down.

A small smirk twitched his lips as he assessed me from head to toe. My dupatta was discarded to one of the bar stools, my hair messily clipped into a bun, hanging low on my neck.

He waved his phone at me, Mama's smiling face was on the screen of his precious iPhone. Oh Jahanam. Mama had definitely heard my shriek. Why are you speaking to Izhar with that tone? Have I not taught you that a wife shall speak with compassion and gentleness in her voice to her husband?

"It's Mama," he said easily and pointed the phone towards me.

I looked at my hands and blew out a breath, my obstinate hair flying in my face. "Sorry. Just give me a second to wash my hands," I uttered quietly.

I put the rolling pin down on the flour coated obsidian marble counter. I must've looked like a psycho with a rolling pin raised in one hand. No wonder Izhar had found it funny when I'd unexpectedly yelled at him.

"It's fine, here let me help," he came near me.

Before I could protest, Izhar delicately placed the phone under my ear and between my scalding red cheek. He gently brushed my hair behind my ear and wiped the now crusting dough with one finger from my forehead.

"AsSalaamualaikum Mama," I said in a timid voice, already preparing myself to what she'd say about my countenance.

"Walaikum asSalaam meri jaan! How are you? I called your cellphone, but it went to voicemail," she said.

"Oh sorry Mama. My phone is charging. How are you Mama jaan?" I asked.

Izhar pulled back and grimaced as he opened the fridge. I watched him close it, grabbing the Nutella jar instead from the cabinet above.

"Alhamdullilah. What are you doing? And why were you yelling at Izhar?" she was flustered.

"I was just making roti. No, I wasn't yelling at him Mama! He just took me by surprise that's all," I turned away, not wanting him to hear what I said about him.

I was mad at him anyways. Humph. I could hear his smirk while Mama and I conversed. He took a spoon from the drawer adjacent to where he was leaning against the dark wooden cabinets and unscrewed the lid and dipped his spoon inside.

He better not double dip!

"Anyways, I called to tell you that you are coming over to stay!" she said cheerily.

"What?" I asked as I looked at my sad of a roti that had deformed, thin as a sheet of paper into the counter. It was all his fault! If he hadn't been worrying me the whole time, my poor roti would be a perfect thin little circle.

I exhaled and allocated the dough together to roll it out again.

"I already spoke to Izhar beta, he said that he will drop you off tomorrow morning. We both agreed that you'd stay for the weekend. Meri beti, you haven't come over in about a month to stay. We miss you, and Subhan and Silsila dearly miss their Phuppo jaan," Mama sighed.

I smiled to myself and watched Izhar take the spoon full of Nutella and put it in his mouth. He gazed at me the whole time as he slowly rolled his tongue over his bottom fuller lip. I gulped and looked to the other side of the kitchen, a bitter blush crawling up my neck.

"I guess if he said yes, then there's no problem," I said to Mama, not daring to say his name.

In our culture, to take your husband's name aloud was one thing, but for his name to escape your lips in the presence of others, especially elders was completely different.

"Great! In sha Allah see you soon beta," she was instantly ecstatic.

"Okay, I love you Mama. AsSalaamualaikum," I ended the call.

I fumbled with the phone between my ear and cheek, but Izhar was quick and pulled it out. I didn't say a word as his spoon dangled from one hand, the other balancing his phone and the jar of Nutella.

"Since when did you start eating Nutella?" I asked jauntily to the non-chocolate lover.

I turned back to the dough and started afresh. He stood next to me, facing the opposite way and towards the living room. He leaned his head towards me, and I whipped my head away, the tips of my bun brushing his face.

"You start to crave sweetness when your own daily dose is too stubborn," I could feel his eyes on me.

Ya Allah! I despised myself with burning lust when his heart sent a pang through my chest and made my stomach feel weak. I didn't give him a second glance as I finished one roti and moved onto the next.

My beautiful roti, only you understand!

I could feel him move closer and closer to me, and I pressed my lower abdomen into the edge of the kitchen counter. Roll, spin. Roll, spin.

"It wasn't sweet enough though. It's a shame it didn't burn the flame inside of me. Instead, it's making me crave my debar sweetness even more," he said huskily.

My eyes flashed to him and passion filled his iced eyes. He moved his closer to mine, and I could make out every edge of the small hairs prickling his jaw and lower face. "There's something that can make this Nutella sweeter though," his lips menacingly curved upwards.

I didn't dare ask him what that could possible be, he was a shaytan. I was already painted in scarlet from my hairline and to the soles of my feet.

"You, me, and Nutella," he winked and leaned in to my neck.

I gasped and looked at the cabinet behind him with wide eyes. I clutched the rolling pin and tried grasping the air around me that had become silent like my veins.

"When you leave me for the weekend, Nutella and I will be missing you," he kissed the bottom curve of my neck, leaving tingles of ice in my spine.

My sensitivity had gotten the best of my, and I shyly moved my shoulder upward, trying to coax the tingles in my skin away. He pulled away too soon, and walked back to the cabinet to put the Nutella away. Izhar didn't give me a second glance before he confidently walked out of the kitchen, his gray sweatpants lazily sitting on his carved hips.

"UGH!" I hung my head in frustration. When he was that close to me, I couldn't help myself from sinking into the floor. My thoughts would roam wild with fire, and my heart would be lit with patience. But this time, I wouldn't give in so easily. I had to make him see my way, and I would. I had to make him understand.

******

As nice and comforting as it was to stay with my family and finally spend one on one time with them after a hectic schedule, there was still a void inside of me that wasn't filled, and it ached every morning when I'd wake up and every night I would disperse for bed. It was my second day at Mama's, and each day consisted of nonstop catch up chatter and long waking nights.

Even now, at the break of the night while Bhaiya was fast asleep and I had just tucked Mama into bed, Bhabi jaan, Sabr, and I spoke in the heart of my room. Bhabi rocked Subhan in her arms while I combed my fingers through Sila habibti's soft hair. She clenched the neckline of my kameez in her small one year old fist while her heavy breaths tickled the exposed skin of my collarbone.

I had just told them about what Ammi's thoughts were on my pregnancy, and they were both outraged. I had made them both promise me that they wouldn't enchant one word to Mama or Bhaiya or chaos would surely ensue.

"Have you told Izhar?" Bhabi inquired.

I kissed Sila's head and smiled at the way her heart shaped lips blew a breath with each beat, thumping against my skin. "He has a different kind of love for Ammi. I don't want anything I say to sound like I'm going against her opinions because she has the right. Nor do I want him to get upset about it and ask her anything," I moved my hand to Sabr's head that rested on my lap.

"But Appi she questioned you! Indirectly, but still. You're the perfect daughter-in-law, and yet for one instance she lost her faith in you?" Sabr gasped.

"It's not that easy. Every mother-in-law wants to see her son's children, and I can't blame her for that. Izhar is their only son and the eldest from both sides, so there are expectations. I've decided that I'm going to keep trying, but I won't hold a grudge in my heart with myself anymore, thinking that I failed. It'll be a new start for me each time. Instead of breaking, I'll let myself tape me back together. I miss smiling and laughing like I used to, and all of you do too," I smiled at both of them.

Sabr deeply sighed and moved her head closer to the edge of my leg, resting it on my knee where I bent my leg over the other. Bhabi simply looked at me with a silent plea in her eyes. She was married, and even though she always said she was blessed with the best in-laws, she knew the battle inside of me that I couldn't bring myself to say out loud.

A sneeze wretched out of me, startling both Sabr and Sila. I rocked Sila jaani in my arms as she squirmed and let out a quiet and single sob. She was probably dreaming. I kissed her eyelid and cheek, and in her sleep, she gave her Phuppo a shy smile.

"You okay?" Bhabi quietly asked.

"Yeah, it's just a sneeze," I brushed off.

"You've been sneezing quiet a bit since yesterday, and that rusty cough. Are you sure you aren't sick?" Sabr worriedly looked up at me from my lap.

"I was sneezing and coughing a few days ago too, but it wasn't as frequent. I thought it was gone till this afternoon. It's probably just the seasons changing, that's all. Plus, this happens to me every year. I'll be fine!" I nodded my head and grabbed a Kleenex from the floral designed box on the bedside table.

We stayed like that for awhile, and my bed was big enough for Sabr to fall asleep on one side with Subhan and Sila in the middle, and me on the other side. We couldn't even tell where the hours were going until Sabr fell asleep into the numinous night along with my lovebugs. I watched the three of them silently sleep, and Bhabi watched me with a fond look.

"What?" I whispered to her.

"Izhar must me missing you like crazy. He's majnun," she grinned.

I scoffed a laugh and shook my head as I lay on my side of the bed and stared at the transparent canopy above me, framing the outskirts of my bed.

"He kept asking me where I had put things, but I left them in places that he could easily locate like his shoes, keys, and wallet," my voice was as light as a feather.

With my eyes, I traced the shadows of the string lights behind me that projected on the ceiling. They were haunting and vulnerable just like the rest of this world.

"He does a good job concealing his pain. Just like you. Don't let your silences build a trench between you Nourie. Let him bear your pain alongside you," she murmured.

"I'm scared of what he'll do when he finds out the condition my body is under," a tear trickled down from the edge of my eye and into the pillow behind my head. I kept my eyes open, and the shadows covering me blurred. "He already questions me on why I lost weight and have become pale. He even called Jamilah the other day because he'd sensed I was keeping things from him so he wouldn't be worried."

"He'll be more broken if he finds out the hard way," she informed.

Bhabi was right, I had to tell him, but the question was how? He knew everything except for the fact that if I were to finally get pregnant again, there would be severe consequences, and maybe eventually I would have to get a hysterectomy done if my uterus kept failing with more future miscarriages. Izhar was cognizant of the details other than the fact that if there was another chance, there would be even more rare chances of that baby surviving.

I had enough medical knowledge to know how hard it would be conceiving again without a few complications here and there, but I was willing to go through it with as much bravery I could fathom. I'd become cold when I found out that if my body kept failing again as in more miscarriages, then I would more prone to consequences, and a hysterectomy would be a final resort.

If Izhar sought the new and wild curse that burned within me, he would never try for a baby again. He probably wouldn't even touch me the same way again, because he knew I wouldn't undergo excisions, and I knew he wouldn't take the chances with me either to only see me break again.

All I asked was Allah guide me into what was right and soon in sha Allah. My brain and heart couldn't take the burden of what crept behind me like a knife ready to pierce out the remains of my emotions.

"Marriage is hard my love, but we can do the least to make it easier on ourselves, and I know you and Izhar have learned the key to your relationship," Bhabi spoke like the tameless wind outside.

"And what is that?"

"You become each other's best friend. You both learn to compromise and understand the other's emotions and actions. Every gesture can be retrieved without it having to be spoken, and then you're left with half the battle," she got up from the bed.

I let it sink in for awhile before I whispered, "You're right."

"Go to sleep Nourie bear. It's really late. I'll see you in the morning love," Bhabi came up to me and kissed my forehead, turning off the side lamp before she departed.

I waited a bit before turning towards Subhan who peacefully slept next to me, one arm raised above his head on the pillow, resting against his cheek. I gently moved it down and kissed both his cheeks and Sila's before blowing Duas on them and Sabr.

I sank back into my pillow, tucking their blankets around them and grabbed my phone from the table. There were a couple unchecked notifications, but my heart rate rose when I encountered an unopened one from Izhar. It was sent only an hour or so ago when Sabr, Bhabi, and I were busy talking in hushed tones, flirting with the night.

What was he doing up so late?

Hubby: I miss you.

My fingers lightly skimmed over the dim screen, a smile curving its way up my rosy lips. If only he knew how much I missed him.

AsSalaamualaikum! And there you have it! :) I humbly request everyone to please vote and leave comments behind. You amazing people truly make my day when you leave your love because it makes me feel like my writing that is filled with sweat, blood, and tears is actually worth a read and the wait. I'm honored to have readers who are so engrossed in the story to ask me for updates, but please rememeber that in return we authors wait for the feedback because it keeps us going. The support allows us to think and truly believe that our hard work is paying off, that someone somewhere in the world smiles when they read our works or maybe even cries and feels the slightest of emotions. All we ask for is feedback and support.

So, what do guys think is going on? Will Izhar and Nouran make up and try to reach a rational consensus. I know this was a very informative chapter, but for everyone to understand what will be happening in the future chapters, this was necessary. And what are your thoughts on Aaliyah/Ammi? Is she being wise or too cold?

I can't wait to read your comments and induce in your love for this story! Thank you so much, I truly appreciate all the love. P.S. Have you checked out my new book? :D If not, check it out and vote, comment, and share! #TSWKH