6 months later
MAARIAH'S POV
My eyes were bloodshot and all I could feel was an unknown kind of tiredness grip over me. Yet when I held my precious bundle of joy in my arms, the world seemed to melt away. In that moment, I knew that he would be the comfort of my heart, the coolness of my eyes and the ease after hardship.
"His name is Naeem," I whispered. Naeem. Comfort. Tranquility. Ease. He was all of that and more to me.
My nurse then took the baby from me, much to my dismay, to wash and clothe him. Next to me, Nabeel squeezed my hand but I could see that he was distant from me. Right now he had only one thing on his mind - my son. Our son.
NABEEL'S POV
The child was in the nursery when I first spoke to him.
"Assalamualaikum, my precious Naeem. You know that you're so beautiful I can't even describe you."
I ran my fingers through his soft, black hair, and traced every feature of his face. His golden eyes with their long lashes, his tiny, round nose, his plump, pink lips, and his tiny ears, all of them mine to love.
Tentatively, I rubbed my thumb against his hand, and then felt the most magical emotion possible. His tiny fist opened and my little finger slipped into it. I held my breath, not wanting to ruin this moment with any sound. I was a generally unemotional person, yet tears of joy threatened to spill down my cheeks. I couldn't contain my happiness.
I bent down and pressed my lips to his ear.
"Ya Allah, thank you for giving me this gift. Ya Allah, protect my baby boy. Ya Allah, make him the coolness of my eyes, the comfort of my heart, and the calm in every storm. Ya Allah, bless him, guide him, and make Naeem your loyal slave. Ya Allah, keep him safe, keep him safe, keep him safe," I prayed.
His little eyes fluttered open as I said the final words, as if to tell me, "Daddy, Allah is always with me."