"Love Talk' - WayV
Unedited
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The door swung open to reveal both Syra's and Zayn's parents hurriedly marching in, panic etched onto their faces. Syra's siblings and Zayn's sisters also followed in after them. He knew his brothers were waiting right outside as Syra wasn't wearing her hijab.
"Haaayyyyeeeee, meri bachi," cried Amma, tears running down her face. (Oh, my child).
She came to hug Syra but stopped, shocked at the child in her arms.
"Mujhe yaqeen nahi tha, leykin abh..." Aboo tailed off, looking at Zayn with blatant shock. (I didn't believe it, but now...)
"Zayn how could you hide such a thing from us? Did you tell Syra to hide it too?" begun his mother, aghast.
Here we go.
"No. We did not. She took many tests as well, all came negative - we don't know why," he replied.
"Shahzad told us everything. From the start, while we were on the way here. This hospital is a little far from us," said Abba who had been quiet throughout.
Zayn was wary of him. He had gotten his sixteen year old daughter pregnant, not only that, but put her in harms way. Zayn avoided meeting his eyes.
"I am disappointed in you both. Zayn, not so much for doing such things, but thinking you could handle the consequences by yourself. What happened to Syra with this Vincent was very serious. And Syra, you could have gone to your mum, or dad. But I understand you didn't because this is mainly Zayn. I am not blaming you, Zayn beta, but disappointed - in fact hurt that you did not confide in your parents. Your siblings have gotten mixed in terrible things, your brothers have had similar problems to you and they came to me, even if they hid some stuff," Aboo lectured him.
Shahzad must be outside with his brothers then.
Zayn didn't disagree. It was his duty to tell his parents. Because he didn't, Syra felt that she would just bring up unnecessary drama if she told her parents. So they dropped the matter.
"Abh tou chorou. Jho hogya, wo hogya. Wo kamina police ke hatho mai hain. Now we must talk about the baby," said Ammi. (Now, leave it. What's happened, has happened. That brute is in the hands of the police).
"Ghar jaake hum akelai mai baat karain gai," murmured Amma to Syra, who nodded, giving a fake smile.
Zayn took this chance to glance behind the two pairs of parents. His younger sisters were here, his older sisters had most likely gone home because of their kids. As should be his older brothers.
His gaze met with Saleh, who looked partly shocked and partly angry. His lips pressed in a firm line and he narrowed his eyes at Zayn. Zayn did the 'white person stiff smile and nod thingy' and looked at Ilyas. He looked nonchalant, as if he couldn't care what was going on. Zayn wasn't dumb, he knew that he was just putting on a front. He sighed, knowing there was no way of getting either of them to like him. He did knock their sister up, but he's married to her. And yes, they are extremely young, but they are ready to take on the responsibility - there's no way in hell they would even consider putting their son up for adoption. They have their families support by their side.
Syra was done feeding him, so she fixed herself and took off her breastfeeding cover and held him against her shoulder, her hand supporting his head as she tried to burp him. Don't want him to end up puking out all his milk. Sure enough, they soon heard his little burp.
"How much does he weigh?" asked Amma.
"He weighs a little over 0.8 kilos, Mumma. He is born a early so he is smaller than other newborns but he's at a healthy weight," Syra replied.
Zayn reached out for him, so Syra held him out. After settling him in the crook of him arm, he stood up, peering down at the half open green-grey eyes. He walked over to his mother.
"Aap ko pakarna hai?" he asked, a little hesitant. (Do you want to hold him?)
His mother nodded and held her hands out, before expertly settling him. Having ten kids did that. She gasped as she looked down at him.
"Arey, Asfandyar , ye tou bilkul apne baap ki copy hai, jo aap ki bilkul copy hai. Aur iski ankhay, ek grey Zayn ki tara aur ek green Syra ki tara. Dekhai," exclaimed Ammi, beckoning her husband over. (Oh, Asfandyar, he is totally a copy of his father, whose a copy of you. And his eyes, one grey like Zayn and one green like Syra. Look)
His dad went over to her and peered down, before smiling.
"Bilkul," he remarked. (Absolutely).
Ammi handed him to Amma, who also made Elle at his eyes.
"Mashallah, Mashallah, nazar naa lagai," she said, cooing down at her grandson. (Don't want him to get evil eye).
She beckoned her sons over, who stood up and walked over. Ilyas immediately reached for him, chatting nonsense to the baby. Zayn held in his laugh. At least there was progress. He turned back to look at Syra. She was frowning, lost in thought. He sat next to her and squeezed her hand.
"We'll get through this. You and I, with our family. And our son. Speaking of whom, we need to name him,"
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"I already said, we're gonna reveal his name to everyone on the aqeeqah, the seventh day. No earlier. No hints either. You can guess but we'll neither say yes or no," explained Zayn to everyone else. (Aqeeqah is the seventh day after a child is born where an animal is slaughtered and the meat given out. Often people reveal the baby's name on this day).
They were home now. His home. They were taking up residence in the loft during the week and then spending the weekends at Syra's house. Thankfully they both have siblings who have children so they're borrowing their stuff while Ilyas popped out to buy a hoard of nappies, wiles and baby toiletries. They had loads of clothes and blankets. They also borrowed a cradle that could be attached to the side of the bed. A bathtub. There were also small bottles and this pump thingy.
Syra had told him what it was. It was a breast pump so she could extract milk and store it in the freezer, which can be taken out and fed to him in a bottle if she's out or something. She had decided not to use any formula or anything, she would just express it. In his opinion, he just wanted whatever was easier for her and the baby.
It was night now, and they were exhausted. It was an eventful day. Especially for Syra. They had discharged her after much persuasion - she only needed rest which she would rather do at home. She was still very weak, so Zahn had flat out refused to let her walk. He took her out in a wheelchair till the car, then he had carried her all the way to the attic, and did the same with the baby. While Syra changed him and got him ready for bed, he put the baby's and Syra's clothes away, stored the nappies, wipes and toiletries in their respective places before getting himself ready for bed.
By the time he was done, the little teddy bear was asleep. Now he could tend to Syra.
"Zayn I really want to take a shower," she pleaded.
He considered it. This shower did have a seat you could unfold. But she could easily slip. So he would assist her.
"Sure, I'll help you," he responded.
He walked over to her and lifted her over to the bathroom, and placed her on the closed toilet. He helped her out of her clothes and then onto the chair, placing the bottles within reach and then he left. He closed the door behind him and headed to the bed to check on him.
He was sleeping, peacefully. Syra had swaddled him, so his tiny face was poking out. He had a lot of hair he saw now, as earlier he had been wearing a hat. Soft, sable curls. He had Syra's hair colour - Zayn's hair was so dark it looked black - but Zayn's hair type. Syra's was dead straight, even in the heat, while his was wavy, becoming curly and frizzy in the heat if he didn't tame it. He was tan as well, paler than Syra but darker than Zayn. His facial features were like his own - of course it was hard to tell as a newborn, but looking at him felt like Zayn was looking at his pictures as a newborn.
He would have liked to have known earlier of his child's existence. That way they could prepare, and also enjoy Syra's pregnancy. But it wasn't in their kismat this time. Oh well. There's many more to come, he thought.
He wanted to hold him but refrained from doing so incase he woke him up and started bawling. That would nuts cause problems for Syra. Instead he switched on the baby monitor and carried the receiver with him, pocketing it. Then he headed downstairs, knowing some of his family was awake.
On the second floor, all the rooms were dark. He didn't know who was knocked out and who was downstairs, so he headed downstairs. That's when he realised he was muthafucking starving and he had been surviving on adrenaline all this time. A protein shake would do.
He added milk, protein powder and peanut putter, then turned the blender on. It sounded ten times louder as it was in the night and it was quiet. He turned it off and poured it out and left the kitchen, summoning his courage before entering the living room.
His parents were there, as were Zayan and Zaina. He saw Zeeshan and Zoya knocked out on the fluffy rug on the floor.
"Zayan, Zaina, put Zeeshan and Zoya in their beds and go to sleep yourselves as well." ordered Ammi upon noticing Zayn's presence. His father beckoned for him to sit down.
Zayan and Zaina did so, casting glances at him which he returned with a half smile. They smiled back, Zayan picking up Zeeshan and Zaina struggling with Zoya before walking out the room.
"Woh sogya? Chotu?" inquired his mum. (He asleep? Little one?)
Zayn nodded, taking a large gulp of his shake. He was already regretting making it - he wasn't even supposed to be having it in the night.
"Zayn, you are only seventeen. None of your siblings were this young when they had children - and you're a boy. They were all legally adults. And Syra is only sixteen! Yes you are married, but you should've have known better than this," Aboo said, speaking softly.
Zayn knew. And he knew he would have to hear it often. All it took was a condom. Oh well.
"This is going to spread like wildfire, you know. Just don't listen to anyone's rubbish," came from Ammi.
He knew that too. So much bs was going to come from the desi and Muslim community. Even though he was married. Others, too. They didn't even know Zayn and Syra were married.
"We were speaking with Syra's parents, and we've come up with an option for you both to choose if you want. You both live here until you are eighteen, get legally married after you have finished sixth form. We will financially provide for you. We will look after him as you are both gone school. And then -" his father broke off, his attention at the door.
Syra stood there, her hair wet. She smiled and walked in after Ammi beckoned her.
"It's good you're both here so we can explain. We thought you were asleep," his mother spoke to Syra, patting her head, who nodded in return.
"I have been listening from the start. Please, continue, Aboo," Syra said.
"Ji, as I was saying, that after you are both eighteen, we will purchase a house for you. It is a gift from us. We know you are not independent yet but will need your own space as you have a child. If you wish, you may pay it off slowly over time. Up to you. To pay your bills, you can work under me part time, as well as getting your further education. Which brings me to my point - what am you both want to do after college?"
Zayn had it all planned out. But only had told Syra. So he told his parents,
"Well, I don't want to go university. People with degrees and even masters are struggling to get jobs. And I don't to work 9-5. I want to do an apprenticeship in Construction. Like a skill no one can take away from me. Then expand on that after and start my own business in that field. I think the apprenticeship I am going to do lasts two years. And you earn some money alongside too. There are different things you can choose to do after that - but we can look into that later,"
His father hummed, mulling over his words.
"Fair enough. That's a good idea. University is not the only way to be successful - it's better not to be a sheep and do what everyone else does. And you Syra, beta?"
"Well I do have a source of income right now - I do henna. I still want to carry that on, but part time. As for me, I want to also do an apprenticeship, and then be a private tutor. Like teach GCSE science, but be a tutor, not a teacher. So I can be flexible with my timing as I want to be home as well."
Bruh, this girl always made him feel so proud. He would make sure to remind her.
"Well that's good. Inshallah all will work out. For now just focus on your AS exams so you can have a relaxed summer,"
A shrill cry from the baby monitor sounded.
"Duty calls," Syra muttered, yawning.
Ah. Parenthood.
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Change of plans - it begun raining in London even though it was boiling the whole week so I can update slowly (I'm at someone's house right now).
But we are almost complete! Im legit so excited!
2410 words.