44. 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕

The sky was a vibrant shade of blue, with the sun casting a warm glow over the gathering. The atmosphere was charged with excitement, and a sense of community filled the air. Adults were deep in conversation, greeting each other with smiles and handshakes, while children ran around laughing and playing on the grass, their joy infectious. Everyone was dressed in their finest clothes, a clear reflection of the importance and celebration of this special day.

"Taqabbal Allahu minna wa minkum!"

"Eid Mubarak!" echoed around us as people exchanged cheerful Eid greetings, their faces beaming with happiness.

It was Eid ul-Adha, the greater Eid, marking the time of sacrifice or Qurbani. While this day doesn't have a direct connection to the Hajj pilgrimage, it follows closely after the completion of the annual journey, making it even more meaningful for many. The significance of the occasion was evident in the air, as families and friends gathered to celebrate together.

"Mummy, huwwy up!" Zayd groaned, his impatience bubbling over as I knelt in front of him, carefully retying his shoelaces. He had managed to untie them while running around with the other kids. Now that it was time for the Eid prayer, I had finally managed to catch him.

Hassan, standing above us, chuckled at Zayd's eagerness. Once I was satisfied that Zayd's shoes were securely fastened, I rose to my feet, combing through his hair with my fingers. Hassan gave me a quick kiss on the forehead before he and Zayd headed toward the men's section for the congregation prayer.

The Eid prayer was set to take place on the open grass at a park, a beautiful, wide expanse of greenery stretching out before us. The ground was a vibrant mosaic of color, covered with an array of prayer mats that people had carefully laid in rows. Each mat, with its distinct patterns and shades, added to the festive atmosphere.

At the very front, the Imam's mat stood alone, distinguished by it's simplicity and position. A microphone was clipped to his abaya, ensuring his voice would carry across the congregation.

I watched them walk away for a moment before making my way to the women's section. My prayer mat was already laid out, waiting for me. I spotted Ayesha, Maria, Zahra, and my two mothers-in-law nearby, all standing together in anticipation. I offered them all a warm smile as I took my place beside them, mentally preparing myself for the prayer.

The air felt peaceful as the call for prayer began.

"Allahu Akbar," the Imam's voice resonated through the congregation.

In unison, we raised our hands for the takbeer, letting the tranquility of the moment wash over us. As the prayer began, I felt my heart fill with peace.

In this moment, surrounded by loved ones and community, I was reminded of the deeper meaning of Eid, the spirit of sacrifice, and the beauty of unity. This was more than just a celebration—it was a time to reconnect, to reflect, and to be grateful.

~

I heard a knock on the door and, feeling a surge of excitement, quickly made my way over. As I opened the door, the last set of guests stood there, smiling brightly.

"Eid Mubarak!" Ayesha squealed, pulling me into a tight hug before handing me a beautifully wrapped gift box. Her energy was contagious, and I couldn't help but laugh as I embraced her back. Saleem stood beside her, giving me a wide grin as he greeted me warmly.

"Come in, come in! Saleem, the guys are out back," I said, stepping aside to let them in. Saleem gave Ayesha a quick hug before making his way through the house. He stopped briefly in the kitchen to greet everyone before heading toward the backyard where the men were gathered.

As soon as the door was closed, Ayesha grabbed my hand with her usual enthusiasm, and we walked together into the kitchen, joining the group of women already gathered there. The kitchen was bustling with activity, the countertops filled with bowls of prepared ingredients, a colorful display of freshly peeled vegetables, fruits, and spices, all neatly arranged in anticipation of the feast.

While Ayesha greeted each woman with a hug and a warm smile, I placed her gift on-top of the other gifts in the living room. Right beside it was a box filled with the gifts Hassan and I had prepared for our guests. After doing so I walked back into the kitchen to join in on the conversations.

Hassan and I were the hosts for this year's Eid gathering and having everyone here, under one roof, was truly a blessing. The laughter, the chatter, and the togetherness made the atmosphere light and fun.

"Incoming!" Abu's voice boomed as he came into the kitchen, holding up a huge bowl of freshly cut meat, his usual theatrics on full display as he playfully shook it in the air. He was mid-dance when my mother interrupted him, prompting him to reluctantly hand over the bowl.

Following close behind, Hassan and Sam entered the kitchen, each carrying their own containers of meat. They placed them on any available surface, squeezing them in among the bustling preparations. Hassan's eyes caught mine from across the room, and he winked at me, causing my face to heat up instantly.

Today, he had styled his hair in one of my favorite ways—in a neat bun, which framed his face perfectly. He looked so handsome that every time he glanced in my direction, I found myself blushing like a schoolgirl. It was almost embarrassing how easily he could make me flustered, especially when he wore his hair like that.

He noticed, of course, and let out a low chuckle, clearly amused by my reaction. After placing down the container, he exchanged a few words with my mom before making his way out of the kitchen, Sam following close behind.

"Girl, it's been years, and you still blush like a little schoolgirl every time you see your man!" Ayesha teased loudly, in typical fashion, her voice carrying above the lively conversation around us. The room erupted into laughter, the other women joining in, and I could feel my face burning even more in embarrassment. I tried to laugh it off, but it was no use—everyone had seen me blushing furiously, my niqab hiding nothing.

Despite the teasing, I couldn't help but smile. Moments like these were gold.

~

"Pass me the couscous, binti," my Baba called out warmly from across the table, his kind eyes twinkling with affection. I smiled back and rose from my seat, making my way over to the bowl of couscous, which sat right in front of me. The couscous was fragrant, seasoned with a perfect blend of spices, flecks of parsley and lemon zest peeking through the fluffy grains. It was one of Baba's favorites, and I was more than happy to serve it to him.

I walked over to where he was sitting and carefully dished out a generous portion onto his plate.

"Thank you, habibti," he said, his voice filled with warmth as he kissed the back of my hand. My heart swelled with love, and I beamed at him.

"Of course, Baba," I replied with a smile, feeling the simple joy that came from these small acts of love.

From across the table, Abu couldn't resist mimicking my words in an exaggerated tone, making a dramatic show of it. I glanced over at him and laughed, his playful teasing impossible to ignore. Baba chuckled along with me, shaking his head at Abu's antics.

"Uncle, do you need anything?" I asked Uncle Adam before heading back to my seat. He sat to Baba's right, comfortably enjoying the spread of food laid out before us.

"No, thank you, habibti," he declined, smiling warmly in my direction.

The table was a colorful and aromatic feast, filled with a variety of dishes from different cultures. There were Iranian delicacies, like saffron rice and tender lamb kebabs, beautifully arranged on platters, the meat perfectly charred and spiced with sumac and cumin. Somali dishes sat nearby, including sambusas stuffed with spiced ground beef and vegetables, their golden, crispy shells inviting. To add a twist, we had some American classics as well—fried chicken, crispy and golden, with coleslaw on the side. And then, there was Maria's contribution: a big dish of red Benachin, it's rich, red-orange hue showing off the vibrant mix of tomatoes, peppers, and spices.

After making sure everyone had what they needed, I returned to my seat, settling in to enjoy the meal. Just as I was about to serve myself, Hassan reached over and grabbed my plate. Without even needing to ask, he began carefully dishing out food for me. He picked out exactly what I had been eyeing—the couscous, some of the juicy lamb kebabs, and a hearty scoop of Maria's Benachin. He added a few sambusas and a small portion of the salad, a mix of cucumbers, tomatoes, and fresh herbs tossed in olive oil and lemon juice.

Watching him quietly, I felt my heart swell with warmth and appreciation. Hassan always seemed to know what I wanted without me having to say a word, and that attentiveness never failed to touch me.

When he finished, he placed the plate back in front of me with a soft smile. "Okay?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"Okay," I replied, returning his smile with one of my own.

"Hey lovebirds, on behalf of everyone here, I just want to extend a heartfelt thank you for inviting us all over today," Sam began, his voice strong and clear, commanding the attention of the room. "It's truly been a wonderful time, and we're all so grateful for the chance to gather like this in the spirit of togetherness and love. Hopefully, this is just the beginning of many more such gatherings to come, In Shaa Allah."

"In Shaa Allah" We all responded in unison.

The dining room was alive with laughter and conversation. This was what the celebration was all about—community, love, and togetherness.

The excited laughter and playful screams of the children filled the living room, their joy clear as they chased each other around. The triplets : Musa, Adam, Muhammed, and Zayd—four energetic boys who seemed to have an endless supply of energy. They had eaten earlier, which is why they weren't seated with us at the dining table. That would be chaotic.

A soft humming nasheed echoed through the space, weaving it's gentle melody into every corner of the room. The peaceful rhythm of the nasheed created an atmosphere of calm and serenity, contrasting beautifully with the playful chaos of the children nearby.

In one corner of the room, my father and his best friend were deep in conversation, their voices occasionally punctuated by shared chuckles, a usual sight. Across from them, Ayesha and Saleem were locked in what was clearly a humorous exchange, laughing in between sentences. My mother, Zahra, and Aunt Sarah sat together, comparing their freshly applied hennas, admiring the intricate designs on their hands. Meanwhile, Abu was at the table, focused intently on his plate, eating with such determination you'd think he was racing against time.

And Hassan...

There was Hassan. He sat beside me, silent but present, watching me with soft eyes. Without a word, he slipped his hand into mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. So much said in that small gesture.

~

The last of the car doors closed with a soft thud as our guests drove away, one by one, waving and smiling. We stood on the porch, waving back, watching their cars disappear down the road until they were no longer visible.

Hassan and I lingered there, side by side, standing in comfortable silence. The cool night air wrapped around us, and for reasons neither of us spoke aloud, we just stood still, taking in the night . Above us, the night sky stretched vast and dark, dotted with stars that twinkled faintly, as though they were trying to share a secret with us. There was a peacefulness in the air, a moment of calm after the warmth and energy of the day.

Hassan, who had been standing behind me, gently slid his arm around my waist. He turned me toward him, and with a quiet smile, guided me back toward the house.

As we stepped inside, the reality of hosting hit us both at once. We groaned in unison, staring at the mess left behind by our lively gathering. The remnants of laughter and conversation were now scattered in the form of crumpled napkins, half-empty cups, and rearranged furniture. One of the less glamorous parts of hosting.

Nevertheless, we quickly divided the workload and got to work. Both Hassan and I, being a bit germaphobic, couldn't bear to leave the house in such disarray for another moment. The thought of waking up to a messy home was enough to get us moving.

I headed to the kitchen to tackle the dishes from dinner. Thankfully, the ladies and I had washed the larger pots and pans as we cooked, so most of the heavy work was already out of the way. All that was left were the serving dishes, utensils, and plates we had used during the meal.

Meanwhile, Hassan busied himself in the living room, sweeping the floors and dusting the chairs and tables. His steady movements filled the space with the quiet rhythm of cleaning. Once I was done washing and putting away the dishes, I stepped into the living room, only to find him getting ready to mop the floors.

Seeing him about to start, I walked over to lend a hand, reaching for the mop. But Hassan moved out of the way before I could grab it.

"No, go freshen up," he said with a laugh, his voice soft but firm. "I'll be done soon."

I stifled a yawn, trying to insist. "Are you sure? I can help you finish up."

He smiled, shaking his head. "Yes, now shoo," he said, waving me away like it was the simplest decision in the world.

"Okay, you don't have to tell me twice," I said with a laugh, raising my hands in mock surrender as I turned and walked away. I made my way up the stairs, feeling a sense of relief wash over me as I entered the bathroom, ready for a much-needed shower.

Fifteen minutes later, I emerged, feeling refreshed. Wrapping myself in my fluffy bathrobe , I headed over to the wardrobe to pick out something comfortable to sleep in. I pulled out a pair of gray sweatpants and one of Hassan's black T-shirts—one of my favorite go-to's. Sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, I began scrolling through my social media feed, enjoying the quiet as I waited for Hassan to finish up downstairs.

Abu had already washed Zayd and put him to bed about an hour ago, so I had the rare luxury of relaxing after what had been a fun but exhausting day.

About five minutes later, Hassan entered the room. He grabbed a set of clothes from the wardrobe and motioned toward the bathroom, silently letting me know he was going to shower. I nodded, barely lifting my eyes from my phone, engrossed in replying to the many Eid messages that had flooded my inbox. This was the only time of year my phone buzzed this much, and I smiled as I caught up with friends and family.

I had just finished my final round of calls, making sure everyone had gotten home safely, when Hassan walked out of the bathroom. His hair was loose, no longer tied in its bun, and he was freshly showered, wearing a similar outfit to mine—gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt.

"They got home safe?" Hassan asked, his voice low but clear, clearly having overheard some of my conversations.

"Mmhmm, they did," I replied with a nod, still focused on my phone.

Satisfied, he climbed into bed beside me, wrapping his arms around me and nestling his head into the crook of my shoulder. His warm breath tickled the side of my neck, sending a familiar warmth through me.

But apparently, that wasn't enough for him. Before I could react, he lifted me up effortlessly, causing me to let out a squeal of surprise. With a playful grin, he repositioned me sideways on his lap, holding me close as he returned his head to it's previous spot on my shoulder, as if that was exactly where it belonged.

"Today was a good day, baby," he whispered, his voice quiet yet clear in the silence of the room. The peacefulness wrapped around us, making his words all the more comforting.

"It really was," I agreed, smiling contentedly as I brought my hand up to run my fingers through his soft, slightly damp hair.

"What did I ever do to deserve this? To deserve you?" Hassan's voice was filled with emotion, as he leaned in and pressed a tender kiss on my shoulder.

His words sent a ripple through me, and for a moment, I felt my heart skip. The way he spoke always left me speechless. But my silence didn't deter him in the slightest.

He lifted his head, eyes searching mine, holding my gaze as if he was looking straight into my soul. His expression was serious, but his eyes held a warmth that melted me from the inside out.

"I find myself always wanting to shout it out to the world," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, but so intense I could feel the weight of each word. "To let everyone know that you're mine. But we both know that when you love something deeply, you keep it private. You protect it."

He paused for a moment, his gaze never leaving mine. "So instead of shouting it to the world, I'll keep telling you, over and over again, how lucky I am to have you. I'll whisper it into every prayer mat, letting the heavens and Allah know just how unashamedly, deeply in love I am with you."

His words hung in the air, each one like a heartbeat, filling the silence with meaning. My breath caught as I took it all in. His quiet but passionate confession, the way he spoke with such raw sincerity—it was moments like this that made me realize just how much he loved me, not just with words, but with every fiber of his being.

"H-Hassan... I—" I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper, struggling to find the right words to respond. Once again, his heartfelt words had left me completely speechless, a familiar feeling when it came to him.

Without hesitation, Hassan leaned in and gently pressed his lips to mine in a soft kiss, and as if that wasn't enough, he followed it up with a delicate kiss on my forehead. That simple act was enough to make me melt into his arms, my heart swelling with affection.

"You own my heart, Hassan," I finally managed to say, my voice tender and filled with emotion. "Every crevice and every beat."

He didn't miss a beat, pulling me even closer into his embrace. "You are my heart," he whispered back, his words enveloping me like the warmth of a blanket.

We stayed like that, wrapped in each other's arms, lost in the comfort of our connection. It felt like an eternity, the world falling away until it was just the two of us. No words were needed anymore, just the quiet peace of being together. After a while, we shifted on the bed, Hassan scooting up and lying down. I followed, resting my head on his chest, right above his heart.

There, I could feel the steady, rhythmic beating of his heart beneath me. The sound and feel of it was soothing, lulling me into a deep sense of calm, as if his heartbeat was speaking to mine, as if our hearts were connected by an invisible string ,ever tight, pulling me closer to sleep.

And as I lay there, listening to the gentle rhythm of his heart, I found myself drifting off, once again cradled by the love that surrounded us both.

He is the One Who created you from a single soul, then from it made its spouse so he may find comfort in her.

~

Longest chapter yet, subhana'Allah.

Tell me what you think!

And as always please comment and vote🤍