Together Forever

یکم

Their balcony was a wrap around one, with a pool. Thankfully, their was large protective glass that was one way. Giving him and his family privacy when they chose to swim in it.

A small light lit up the corridor leading to their room. Rayan smiled to himself, thinking about his son, Rehan.

They had been blessed with the news of Ayla's pregnancy in their third month of marriage. They were shocked. With Ayla being only twenty-four. A few weeks after their first marriage anniversary, Rehan was born. And now, three months old, he was a happy little boy.

He had hazel eyes like his mother and a tuft of brown hair had covered his head. He came into the world, screaming at the top of his lungs. Demanding attention. His nose and lips though, resembled his own very much. It had made him happy. Their jigar ka tukda was a perfect combination of him and his wife.

Since he had an important case to deal with, he had been coming home late. It was a case of domestic abuse. And he was very personal about it. His father had been abusive before he got help. He remembered his mother's cries, when he, while hitting her had revealed his second marriage.

He entered their bedroom silently. Lest he wake up his dil kay totay. As soon as he entered, his eyes were graced with the most prettiest of sights. The large glass doors that lead onto their shared balcony, let dim light fall into their large bedroom. The light illuminating the place with the subtlest of glows.

And there on the king sized bed, sat his wife. With their son next to her chest. As she suckled him, gently caressing his cheeks. Speaking in a soothing voice. Her silky hair fell in gentle waves on her bare shoulders.

Their son's tiny fists curled on top of her chest as he continued to drink milk from his mother. Letting his body be nurtured.

"MashAllah!" An astonished cry left his mouth.
The scene infront of him, reducing him to tears.
"Assalamualikum Yan!" Ayla looked at him.
Finally taking her gaze off of their cherub, Rehan.
"Waalikumassalam Ayla!" He smiled.
Heading into their bathroom to wash his hands. Finally sitting himself opposite his wife. Bending slightly forward to kiss her forehead.

His eyes full of love for his world. That was infront of him. There was contentment in his soul anytime he saw the two. They gave him a sense of belonging.

Ayla smiled at him, as the soft sounds of their son's suckling was the only sound that they could hear. She passed him a small smile. The hand that was caressing her son's face, stretching out to hold his fingers.

Ayla, his beloved, was a woman whose love language was physical touch. Much like his own. Only the two knew how they spent time away. Rayan grabbed her hand hand. Kissing her fingers gently.

"How are you jaan?" His deep baritone voice, broke the blanket of silence.
"Amazing. Ap kaise hain?" Her soft voice, tickling his eardrums.
It was a funny sight truly, to see her speak urdu. Born to a british born Pakistani, Ayla, had urdu that was weak.

Her perfect british accent, caused her words to roll out, smoothly. And he marveled at her anytime she used urdu words. She had been learning, working on making her language better. And he was proud anytime he saw her speak. Without stuttering.

"So tired meri jaan. Bohat bhuk lagi hai!" He rested his forehead on her shoulder.
Being mindful of their tiny son. Changing positions, he sat next to Ayla, now gazing at their calm son. Who as if sensing his father's presence opened his pretty eyes. Gazing at him. Slapping his mother's chest, sloppily. Rayan smiled at him. Thanking Allah in his heart, for giving him such a blessing.