Samar-A Raazi Fanfiction

Samar

In an alternate universe Iqbal is able to meet his child, and to name him. Happy drabble.

The first time Iqbal holds his son he is awestruck. Awestruck at how tiny he is, and how perfect. At first glance he resembles him perfectly—same dark skin, same brown eyes—but on taking a closer look he can see Sehmat's features in him. They are a lot more subtle than his own, but there is no mistaking that happy curve of lips when Iqbal strokes his cheek—exactly like the one that he is so accustomed to—or his high cheekbones and sharp nose which speak of his Kashmiri descent.

Their son is perfect, Iqbal decides, and he cannot believe that he has had a role in his creation. He slowly turns back towards Sehmat—who is lying in her hospital bed half asleep, tired from the long labor—and gently pads across the room towards her from where he is standing near the window. He is mindful of every step he takes, because he is holding a child—something he's never done before—and any missteps could lead to disastrous consequences. Sehmat stirs as he approaches her, even as he tells her to relax, and sits up with some effort. Iqbal places the child into her arms gently, and both of them—Sehmat and he—sigh a collective sigh.

They sit like that for a while, mostly because Iqbal doesn't know what to say, and Sehmat is too tired to say anything. The baby fusses in her arms and takes hold of Iqbal's finger when he traces his hand, and for a moment, for a single moment, Iqbal forgets about the war that is being fought outside this happy bubble that has enveloped him and Sehmat. The one that has enveloped his family.

It is Sehmat who breaks the silence as she gently strokes the child's soft hair. "What will we name him?"

Iqbal looks up from the baby, and muses his wife's question silently as he takes in truly how tired she is, and, in that particular moment, how vulnerable she looks. He slowly disengages his hand from his son's, and brushes away a stray strand of hair from her face before returning his gaze towards the child.

"Samar," he says after a while, looking at Sehmat intently while she ruminates his idea. She too turns to look at the child, then looks up at Iqbal and smiles.

"He does look like a Samar."

A/N: The war is the one of 71, and I know that then would be too early for Samar to have been born yet, but this wrote itself.