Dil Nihaad | دٍل نٍہاد

24 - DIL NIHAAD 🌸

- SULEMAN -

I was sitting in my office. It was Tuesday, the same day when the man named Rizwan Ahmed, who claimed to be Amna's patient suggested to meet. It was 9:30, and I was busy checking some paperwork.

I picked up the receiver from the table and spoke.

"There will be a man named Rizwan Ahmed, inform me when he comes," I told the receptionist. Hearing her positive response to inform me I put the receiver back down and went back to work.

Work was nothing, just looking at some small details. I missed Humna Begum a lot in these boring moments. I love her to no extent. She is just perfect. Perfect in every way.

When I married her, she was a very bold woman, always knowing about everything but, never arrogant. She was sweet from heart, knowledgeable by the brain, daring, and independent from the outside. She was the perfect definition of an ideal woman. I never regretted marrying her, I loved her nevertheless. She was a beauty, in her way. I smiled, imagining how she would act so shy when I teased her or expressed my love to her.

I was also a very soft and expressive man, but only for my family, not for outsiders or other people and I loved to express my love to her. When we got married, I would only kiss her cheeks and forehead, until she was comfortable enough for me to kiss her. I was patient with her and she was the perfect daughter-in-law, wife, and mother to my babies. I smiled at the thought of our three children. No matter how big they grow, they'll still be babies for us.

When Humna was pregnant for the first time,  with Abd-ar Rahman, she was calm yet very disturbed from the inside. That boy never let my wife in peace for a moment. He didn't kick much or move but, he just made her feel weird and her mood swings were just something else.

After a few years when she had Amna, We both were scared to death. Amna would not kick her like usual. Other people said that girls are so much more active when inside their mother's womb and calm when outside but, she was the opposite. She made us worried by not acting much and made us go daily to the hospital to check up on her. She is my little doll, my baby. İ swear if I had the power that day, I would've killed that asshole and proudly go to jail. No one touches my daughter, and no one touches my doll, forcing her is just another topic. My expressions hardened.

Ali was one of a kind. He was the most active one, apart from Abd-ar Rahman and Amna's calm personality he was kicking and moving a lot. Both in, and out. I loved all three of my babies, more than anyone can imagine.

They are a piece of my heart, a part of me.

I sighed before looking back down and then at a photo frame on the right side of the desk. I smiled faintly. 5 years Amna in my arms, 8 years Abd-ar Rahman standing in the center with Humna holding a small, a year old Ali, with a mischievous smile on his face in her arms. Abd-ar Rahman was the perfect brother and I was proud that both my boys were the protectors of their sister. Abd-ar Rahman was mature, since birth and Amna was mature, independent, a bit bold yet, soft, and a little clumsy too, just like her mother but it was still not decided whom she looked like. Some said she looked like me, some said she looked like Humna and to be honest, she was unique in her way and I love it. She's just a perfect woman now. 

I didn't even realize that time passed by and she grew up to be such a gorgeous woman. If I look back at the time, it still feels like it was a few days ago when she was a small baby, playing with my beard.

That talk with Humna the other day made me realize many things that I didn't want to realize, at least not now. I wasn't ready to let my precious gem go after she just came back to me after a long 5 years. Although I had told her, I was fine after she came back, only me, my Allah, and my family know how much I was sick in her absence always filled with her worries, my heart would only calm when I would hear her voice after a week or so. I can't bear the thought of letting go of her, once again.