Ya Amar (My Moon)

**Epilogue 2**

His steps were light, almost quick against the pristine marble floor of the grand stairway. He took long strides that felt slow as his heart beats with anticipation. Every heavy step of his were inadvertent and vaguely executed but cautious. The heels of his polished shoes clanked against the floor, exhilaration saturated his body. His glimmering honey wheat eyes scanned the luxurious hallway, a miniature smile spread over his face. The intricate wall had a photograph that filled his heart with warmth and he longed to see those in it. He halted, the little smile growing into something wider and brighter.

Incandescence laced her eyes. The happiness that glowed in the pair of enthralling dark eyes broadened over her face. The pair seemed as though they gazed into his with a charm that had locked him in her for eternity. Her almost full lips bordered with a deeper shade of pink were arched up into a smile. A lighter shade of pink glazed over her cheekbones. In her hands were his two little princesses, smiles broads and eyes twinkled at the camera. He still remembered when the picture had been taken. It was few weeks ago before their family trip to the country side.

He shifted his gaze to the picture next to it. She had Inaaya who was a baby then on bed, her face over the smiling baby. The tip of her nose almost stroked the tip of the little one’s nose. The little one captured her index fingers into her feathery hold. Her face was alive with rapture. The picture adjacent to it had little Hanan and her in it. She had Hanan in hand, held high in the air, her face full of bliss with the baby’s little lips opened with laughter. Those pictures were taken when the girls were six months old.

He missed his family. He longed to see them. He wanted to hear his princesses ramble about things and watch the innocence on their faces. He no longer wanted to listen to the prattle on phone. He wanted to see every facial expression, the ecstasy on their faces when they laughed and the surprises that masked their faces when they hear or learn about something new. And his wife, that was different with a different feeling. He wondered what she had in store for him because the woman never fail to surprise him.

He had turned into the hallway that showed the way to the master bedroom when he heard the voices, tiny mellifluous chirps. The constant babble mingled with the air permeated with fragrance of freshly plucked flowers. She had plucked flowers for the day, he thought. His eyes fell on the glass vase with freshly plucked allium. That reminded him of the bouquet he had in hand and a bag occupied with gifts for his princesses. He needed not to strain his ears to listen to what they said.

“You do it this way. Mummy said you colour your sketch this way” a high-spirited voice corrected.

“It is not my fawlt. The cwayon is bad” the second voice was less cheery and words were yet to come out smooth and clear.

“Nothing is wrong with it. Use this one” His heart swelled with pride. He changed his way to the direction of the voices.

“I don’t want it” he halted at the ajar large French doors.

He met a scenic view, something he would like to put on camera. His eyes softened with an unwavering smile. From the little view he had, he could see clearly. Inaaya laid on the floor of the play room, legs swinging in the air. She had her eyes fixed on the book. The crayon trapped in between her small hand moved against the sheet. Her younger sister laid opposite her. They had colouring books in between them, crayons and coloured pencils littered the floor. That view will irk their mother. She would hate the muddled state of the room.

“Use something else” Inaaya suggested, her attention on what she was colouring.

An unsatisfied pout had formed over Hanan’s face. She sat up, irked eyes glared at her elder sister who had given her little attention. Her little arms were wrapped over her chest.