A Latte of Love

【☕】3

3:00 AM

I woke up.

Fajr? No, Ahmed suddenly had the urge to play hide and seek in the middle of the night.
It's not like he woke me up and told me that he wanted to play hide and seek. He disappeared from the bed.

"Ahmed. Come out, come out, wherever you are," I whisper loudly. I didn't want to wake up my parents.

I looked for him all over the house, but I couldn't find him anywhere. The kitchen, the bathroom, even my parent's bedroom.

3:46 AM

I go back up to my room and hear the door of the closet creak.

I jump from the sound. Slowly peeking inside the closet, I notice a small foot sticking out. I sigh in relief.

He hid in the jackets that were on the hangers. He opened one of the jackets and had his head peeking through.

"Mama," he whines, pouting his lips, about to cry.

Feeling flustered by the sudden tears. I kneel down and reach out to cup his face in mine. "What's wrong, baby?"

He sniffles, his eyes watering even more. "Wu make my imagiwary fwend ran away!!" He screamed, stomping his feet.

"Your what?"

"My imagiwary," he cries even more. He does that whenever I don't understand what he is trying to say.

I rack my brain. "Imagiwary," I copied him, "should sleep."

"Come on, now." I lift him out of the closet, trying to move him towards our bed. He struggles, trying to escape, but I hold him firmly.

"NO! Imagiwary show me money!" He cries more.

"Yes, yes, I will give you money," I reassure him, lying him down to check his diaper. The alarm for Fajr started to ring.

"I want thwee thowsand, plwes," he whines even more. I give him a look as I grab the baby wipes from the drawer.

"Even I don't have three thousand, baby," I reply. I straighten up after changing his diaper and look at the time. "I need to pray. Go back to sleep, okay?"

Ahmed's eyes begin filling up with tears again and starts to wail. Before I can do anything, the bedroom door opens and my mother walks in.

"Mama," I stood up, feeling terrible about Ahmed's cries waking her up. "He won't sleep."

My mom walks towards us and sits down on the bed. She reaches down and runs a hand through his brown hair.

"Are you excited to meet Abbu?" She looks down at him with a gentle smile.

"Abbu!" Ahmed cries more.

I hold onto his small hands, rubbing them with mine. "Shhh. Sleep, so we can go see Abbu when you wake up," I whisper to him.

Upon hearing that, Ahmed quickly took his place on our bed and pulled up the covers. I glance at my mother who is still smiling down at him. She stands up from the bed and does a small stretch before moving towards the door.

I run a tired hand across my face and sigh. It's been a whole hour of lost sleep because of Ahmed. Days like this have occurred before and they never failed to drain my energy.

It makes me feel relieved that Ahmed's father, Hamza, is still somewhat active in playing his role. I never knew much about his first wife who gave birth to Ahmed. The year I lived with him, I noticed she had a drastic impact on whatever his personality was like. He would barely talk to me, let alone look at me. It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize that it had broken him when she left.

The lack of emotions pushed me to divorce him. I couldn't be happy with a man who would never speak to me or care for his child. There was no attraction between us. It was like mixing oil with water. The only reason I married him was for the dowry. It was no secret that Ahmed's father had a hefty amount of wealth.

Starting a relationship without honesty on both sides was difficult. He agreed to the marriage because he needed a "nanny" to take care of his child while I needed some financial stability. When I requested the divorce, he was quick to agree, only if I was to take care of his child. Ever since then, we have lived under my parent's roof.