Meri Pehchan

•the promise of forever•

• Ten years later •
Samra — 29 years
Fadahunsi — 38 years
Hassan — 10 years
Mahad — 7 years

"Hassan get down right now!" Samra groaned.

"I don't think I can!"

"How did you get up there?" She frowned.

"Well—I climbed," he grinned, sheepishly.

"Climb down then!" Samra sighed.

"I can't, I'll fall and break my leg. Mama please get me down," his voice teared at the end.

Frowning Samra scratched her head, going over her options to help him. Meanwhile, her younger son Mahad, snickered in between the elaborate folds of her dress. His tiny hands held on to the muslin fabric as he watched his mother get angrier by the second.

"I swear Prince Hassan Zaeem Fadahunsi you'll kill me before I see the dawn of my thirtieth year!"

"S–sorry," he burst into soft tears, his nails digging into the soft bark of the tree.

Samra sighed, the anger inside her completely melting at the sight before her. The worried look on her son's face along with his tired figure hanging on to the tree's branch softened her already tender heart. She kissed Mahad's coarse hair, parting from him. Marching inside the manor she called for a male servant, asking him to help her get Hassan off safely.

Ten years had passed with the blink of an eye and she could not believe this had been her life for a decade. She had long outgrown the shell of the nervous and timid woman she wore, instead morphing into one that portrayed strength and power. Samra had started with the help of her sister-in-law and husband a school for teaching women from births that were not that noble. The existing school's refused to enroll these girls simply because of the blood that ran in their veins. She had long since learnt how to fight, throwing punches at Fadahunsi every time he offended her — and this time they actually managed to cause some difference.

Two and a half years after their first born, she had learnt of her pregnancy. Her heart was elated, this time she knew what to do and thankfully her parents had managed to appear in time for the birth. They had named him Mahad, the boy was their pride and joy. His eyes were hazel like that of his father's and his skin was dark like his mother's with a loveliness to it. Fadahunsi had been smitten at first sight, and Hassan too could not help but let his protective tendencies show.

They had tried to have another child many times after that, all in vain. In the following seven years there had been four miscarriages the reason behind them was still not clear. She was healthy and her internal organs functioned well — or that is what the doctor said. Samra could not count the number of times she had cried for her babies that managed to escape the realm of this world before she even held them. Each time she broke a little, but in the spring of this year, she had managed to make it through the first two trimesters and each day that she neared towards her labour, Samra's heart built up with gratitude.

"Mama!" Hassan shrieked.

He ran across the dazzling green garden, into his mother's wide open arms. He hugged her tightly, sobbing into her soft bosom. Samra felt overwhelmed and tears covered her cheeks, she kissed his hair repeatedly, running a hand over his soft back. She prayed verses of protection on her son, peppering kisses on his sodden face. A mother's heart does not waver infront of things such as sweat. A mother's heart is strong than all the steel, softer than all the feathers and deeper than all the oceans. Her fingers dug into his cheek and she dragged her hands over his dirty face. With the back of her sleeve she wiped of the soil and mud that smeared across his reddened cheeks.