6 SIX YEARS LATER
“I just won’t wear a dress!” Leila shouted stubbornly, stamping her small foot onto the ground.
Farah let out an exhausted groan, crossing her arms over her chest and staring back at her daughter. “Leila, do you honestly find it appropriate to wear overalls to a wedding?”
She nodded her head profusely, her pigtails bobbing.
Farah giggled, watching as Leila began to wobble on her feet, the excessive head nodding obviously causing her to grow dizzy. Farah dropped to her knees, putting her hands onto the tiny shoulders of her daughter. “Daddy really wanted to see his little girl in a dress.”
Leila looked genuinely conflicted, but Farah knew she had played the right card. Leila adored her father more than she did Farah. “Can I wear the blue dress?” She asked quietly, fidgeting with her thumbs.
Farah shouted success in her head, pulling her daughter into a tight hug. Leila squealed in delight as she began to tickle her sides. It had been six and half years since she and Zayn had gotten married. About a year into the marriage, Farah gave birth to an energetic daughter, Leila, who was now five-years-old. At five, she had all the stamina and ardor a child could possibly possess, racing around the house at rocket speeds and speaking at twenty miles per hour. She was a loose cannon, but everyone in the estate loved her, including the butlers, the maids, the assistant chefs, and the chef himself, her godfather, Liam Payne.
Zayn doted on her the most; who would have expected that he would become such a family man, given the opportunity? When Farah became pregnant, he first refused to believe her, thinking that she was joking with him. However, after he was convinced, he couldn’t stop smiling. Every night she was pregnant, up until the day Leila was born, he would hug Farah, bringing his head close to her belly and kissing it. Zayn, now the successful head of Molavi Industries, took off every other Friday just to spend special time with his family. They would go down to Covent Garden or Trafalgar’s Square or Hyde’s Park in downtown London and shop or eat or simply walk around in leisure. Farah was proud of him in every imaginable way; not only had he transformed into someone she could trust and love, but he had managed to do so much for her. He had talked Farah’s father into loving to London following his retirement, a commitment that had meant the world for her. She and her father, consequently, became closer than ever before. Farah owed her new relationship with her father to Zayn.
But Farah’s patriarchal-relationship was not the only one which had changed over the course of six years. Zayn had, under Farah’s persistent urging and support, managed to patch things up with his own father. Though they were still not on perfect terms, Zayn had pushed past his hatred for the man, accepting him as a father. Mr. Azad, Zayn’s father, had acknowledged Zayn’s credentials and, much to Farah’s glee, supported the assertion that he was doing wonders for Molavi Industries. This made Zayn a happy man.
“Mummy,” Leila said, as she was carried into the upstairs bedroom by her mother.
“Yes, darling?” Farah replied, glancing down at her.
“How did you and daddy meet?”
Hm, curious question. “You ask this question too often.”
“Leila wants to know!” She shouted with excitement.
“Ask daddy when we get upstairs,” Farah answered, smiling to herself as she planted a kiss against the temple of her forehead.
