To Each Her Own

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Just the family tree since I’m still getting used to it :D

Khaliq + Sara (Safiyana's parents)               

            l                                                                                                                                  

Mizan   Zayed   Safiyana   Ali                         

   +           +(soon)

 Aisha   Kismat

     l 

Sufyan

Kareem + Nifisa (Safiyana's aunt and uncle)

               l

Mehnaz(Married off)     Omar      Yusuf 

And i know the chapter is pretty boring but i swear there is a reason to all of it. Thanks in advance for reading my loves, i really appreciate it!!! 

“What’s for breakfast?” Yusuf asks, walking into the kitchen. I put my phone down and give him a smile as he plops down in front of me.

“I need your help. Yours and Zayed’s and Ali’s”

“Why?”

“My car died on the side of the road last night-” 

“Holy shit, are you okay?”

“Yeah, Ayaan was driving by and helped out till Mizan Bhai and Zayed came. But I want you guys to look at it so it doesn’t happen again; do a little checkup”

“Sure, we’ll look at it after breakfast. But it’ll cost you”

“I’ll buy those pastries you guys really like”

“Deal”

After breakfast, Ali, Zayed and Yusuf came out to the garage with me. Omar bhai trails out behind us and within minutes, all 4 boys are talking Car and Driver.

I sit down on the hood of Yusuf’s Bentley as they pick at wires. Sufyan waddles out to the garage too and I pick him up to sit beside me. “Hi handsome” I poke his cheek playfully. 

“Apaa, we just need to put in some engine oil” Ali tells me, grabbing the bottle of it from the closet full of car fluids.

“So I’ve been told” I mutter under my breath. “Put it in then and we can go get those pastries”

Yusuf pours it in and then starts the car back up. It sounds a lot better now.

“Thank you guys. You’ll all get your treat in 20 minutes” I slide off the hood and set Sufyan down. Ali gets into my passenger seat, ready to go. I roll my eyes and grab the keys from Omar bhai’s hand.

“Drive carefully” Zayed tells me as he walks back into the house with our nephew. “Those pastries are delicate”

“Wanker” I call after him.

“Hold them carefully Ali"

“I am. I’m just cold”

“No one told you to come in your pyjamas”

“I did n- you got me there”

“Mhm. Put on your seatbelt”

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