Finding Islam

39: Home

- KING'S POV -

I locked the door behind me, taking my shoes off and walking down the hall quietly. The sun was shining through the windows and once again, I felt annoyed at how badly night shifts messed up my sleep schedule. I heard sounds in the bathroom as I walked past and I knocked on the locked door, telling her I was home.

"King?" She asked.

"Of course it's me - who else would it be?" I questioned sarcastically, before listening closer, my heart rate picking up as I heard her heave.

"A'ishah?" I knocked quicker this time, playing with the handle. "Open the door."

She heaved once again before replying. "Give me a minute."

I played with the handle a few more times as if expecting it to magically open up, but soon after I heard the tap running before she unlocked and pulled open the door.

"A'ishah." I breathed, holding her face and eying all over her body to see if there was anything wrong. "Why are you locking the door when no ones home?" I stressed, making her shrug.

I ran my thumbs over her cheekbones. Her cheeks were flushed, her face pale and her damp hair matted around her face.

"Did you throw up?" I asked and she nodded. She looked as though she was barely staying awake, her eyes half closed.

"Do you need to go hospital?! Do we need to get medication?" I panicked, holding her shoulders. 

She shook her head. "No, I'm fine. If I feel worse, I promise I'll tell you. It's just an upset tummy for now." She spoke. "I woke up three times in the middle of the night too." She mumbled. Her voice was croaky and she looked like she needed rest. A lot of it.

"Don't tell me..." I muttered. She couldn't be pregnant. There was no way. We had taken precautions to prevent anything like that from happening.

"No, King." She said. "I drank some milk with dates before. The milk must have been off." She spoke, rolling her eyes.

"Food poisoning?"

"I guess so." She replied, reassuring me. I sighed a breath of relief and she gave me a look of hurt before walking past me and into the living room.

I remembered a few days ago when we had discussed the topic of kids for longer than what I was comfortable with.

Alhamdulillah at the time she didn't get angry at my response, but she seemed hurt now.

- flashback -

"Babe?" Her soft voice broke me out of my thoughts and I stopped typing on my laptop, looking across the dining room at her as she sat on the couch. If you could even call her position sitting, that is.

"Hm?" I hummed in response, a smile covering my lips as I watched her. She had her back on the cushion part of the couch, her legs thrown over the back of it, swaying back and forth, her head resting close to the floor.

She was such a kid sometimes. It was adorable.

"How many kids do you want?" She asked, twirling her hair in her fingers as she stared at the ceiling. The question caught me off guard. I didn't feel ready for kids yet. I still had a lot to learn about Islam before raising kids and teaching them their religion.

"I never thought about it." I told her truthfully, asking her to sit up properly so blood doesn't rush to her head. She groaned slightly but listened anyway, lifting her head up and bringing her legs back over the couch to sit grumpily.