Chapter 1
The gentle clattering of utensils, the occasional chop of fruits, and the soft gurgle of running water were the only sounds filling the peaceful Siddiqui household that morning.
It was a serene start to the day. The ethereal beauty of the family – the heart of their small world – was preparing breakfast for her two little munchkins and her big baby.
Her pretty eyes caught sight of the wall clock, which read 7:23 a.m. Turning off the stove, she untied her apron, wiped her hands, and climbed the stairs to her shared bedroom.
“Rizwan,” she called softly, brushing her husband’s hair as a sweet smile curved her lips. She couldn’t help but melt at the sight of his faint pout. “Wake up, it’s time,” she whispered lovingly.
“Hmm… five more minutes, please,” the sleepy man mumbled endearingly.
Tahira chuckled, shaking her head. She walked around to fix their bedroom. “Rizwan, wake up now or you’ll be late for work,” she urged again. When she turned, she caught him already watching her, eyes filled with affection that made her cheeks flush.
He rose from the bed, his hair ruffled and eyes still heavy with sleep, but the moment he saw her standing there – bathed in the soft morning light – his expression softened with love. Without a word, he crossed the small distance between them and slipped his arms around her waist from behind.
Tahira let out a soft chuckle, when she felt the familiar warmth of his chest press against her back. His touch was unhurried, gentle, yet full of unspoken affection. She relaxed instantly, her head leaning slightly into the crook of his shoulder as his breath ghosted over her neck, nuzzling in it.
“Hmm… my energy booster,” he murmured against her skin, voice still rough from sleep. His low and lazy words rumbled against her, sending a shy smile to her lips as a blush crept up her cheeks.
“Is that so?” she teased softly, placing her hands over his as he held her tighter.
“Every morning starts right only when I get this,” Rizwan replied, his voice sincere now, almost reverent. He buried his nose in her neck again, inhaling the light floral scent that always lingered around her – that felt like home.
“You and your sweet talk…” she said with a soft laugh, trying to sound unimpressed but failing miserably. She could feel his smile against her skin, making her laugh even more.
He turned her in his arms until she was facing him, her skin glowing with the love he never failed to shower her with. For a moment, neither spoke – the peaceful morning hummed around them, filled only with the faint sounds of life outside.
Rizwan reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her face, his thumb grazing her cheek in a slow, loving motion. “You look beautiful,” he whispered, not as flattery but as a simple truth.
Tahira’s heart fluttered at the warmth in his tone. “Enough now,” she said softly, smiling to hide how easily – even after seven years of their marriage – he still made her heart race. “Go freshen up. I still have two little brats to get ready before they take over the whole house.”
“Wait a little, I’ll help you with them,” he smiled.
“It’s fine, you will be late otherwise,” she kissed his cheeks softly. “Now go already.”
He chuckled, leaning in to press a firm kiss on her forehead. “Fine, but only because you asked so sweetly,” he said, giving her one last affectionate squeeze on her waist before stepping away toward the washroom.
She watched him go, unable to wipe the contented smile from her face.
Tahira then walked into the room next door, where her little two-year-old son was already sitting up in his crib, eyes half-open.
She chuckled softly and turned toward the bed, where their elder child – a beautiful little five-year-old princess – slept soundly, lips pouty just like her father’s.
“Hey, my squishy baby,” Tahira cooed, lifting her son into her arms. He snuggled against her neck instantly, purring contentedly at her warmth.
She walked to the small, fluffy bed. “Baby, wake up, it’s time for school, love,” she called affectionately, running her fingers through her daughter’s long hair.
“Wate up bwaby,” came a squeal from Armaan, who suddenly became excited at seeing his sister. He reached out to grab her hair, but Tahira quickly pulled him back before any tears could start from the girl.
“Wan hwairs,” he whined, his tiny arms flailing.
“Armaan, mama will be upset if you pull your sister’s hair,” she scolded softly. The little one’s lips quivered before he planted a slobbery kiss on her cheek, as though to make amends.
Tahira laughed, nibbling playfully on his chubby cheek, drawing a delighted giggle from him.
“Aisha, wake up, sweetheart,” she called again.
This time, Aisha stirred and sat up, rubbing her eyes adorably. “Sweepy,” she mumbled with a little pout.
Tahira kissed both their cheeks before taking them to wash up. She handed Aisha her toothbrush, then gave Armaan a quick warm bath.
“I’m done, mama,” Aisha announced proudly.
“Good girl! Can you undo your clothes, baby? While I get your brother dressed first, or he’ll catch a cold,” Tahira said, smiling as she scooped up the wiggly little boy who wanted to keep playing with the water.
“Okay, mama,” the little girl replied and did as told. A few minutes later, Tahira helped her bathe and dress both her darlings neatly. With Armaan in her arms and Aisha holding her hand, they descended the stairs.
Tahira set a plate of extra-fluffy strawberry pancakes in front of them, then fetched their milk.
“Twank you, mama,” said Aisha, earning a kiss on her soft cheek.
“Twan chu, mama,” Armaan echoed proudly, making Tahira laugh.
Right then, Rizwan entered – fresh, suited, and ready. The children squealed with delight, showering him with tiny hugs and kisses. He pressed a kiss to Tahira’s forehead before sitting beside Aisha. Armaan stayed next to his mama, who patiently helped him eat.
“Rizwan, when will you be back from work?” Tahira asked.
Rizwan poured some juice for themselves. “Usual time, love,” he answered warmly.
“Alright. Text me if you want anything special for dinner,” she said, urging Armaan to drink his milk.
He reached for her hand, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles as he looked at her with eyes soft and full of affection. “Even if you served me burnt bread, it would still be special, because you made it,” he said in a low murmur that carried both humour and sincerity.
Tahira’s cheeks flushed instantly. She swatted his hand playfully, trying to hide her embarrassment behind a scoff. “Then burnt bread it is for tonight,” she teased with a grin that made him laugh, the sound filling the room with their easy, familiar warmth.
He often marvelled at how she managed everything – two energetic kids, a house, a part-time job, and still took care of him so lovingly. She truly was the soul of their home. And he couldn’t thank his Almighty enough for blessing him with her as his other half.
“Dada,” Aisha called suddenly.
“Yes, princess?”
“Why do you call mama… love?” she asked curiously, making both adults chuckle.
“Because she’s the love of my life,” Rizwan replied as he playfully bopped her little nose.
“What is love of life?” she asked again, head tilting cutely.
Tahira giggled at Rizwan’s momentary pause.
“Mama lob Almaan!” the little boy chirped, clapping his chubby hands upon hearing the familiar word.
“Of course, Mama loves you,” she said with a smile, while Aisha pouted.
“Mama loves me too!”
“Nu me me!” Armaan protested.
“Okay, okay… mama loves you both equally,” Tahira mediated, laughing softly.
“More than dada!” Aisha teased slyly.
“Of course not,” Rizwan replied, faking an offended look.
Tahira laughed at his expression. “I love you all equally,” she declared, earning synchronised groans from everyone – including baby Armaan, who imitated his sister.
“Enough chatter, or you’ll all be late,” Tahira announced with motherly firmness.
Breakfast wrapped up amid giggles and baby chatter, as the father and daughter proceeded to leave for their respective destination.
“Eat your lunch properly – or no kisses for you,” Tahira warned playfully, making Aisha nod quickly. Although the latter wouldn’t obey
“Eath lwunch,” Armaan repeated sternly, mimicking her stance, hands on hips.
“I’m your elder sister!” Aisha huffed, but his babbling continued, sending their parents into laughter.
“And you, big baby,” Tahira said to Rizwan, moved closer to fix his collar, “don’t forget your lunch, okay?”
“I won’t, love,” he promised, pressing a tender kiss on her cheek.
“Dada nu kissi mama!” Armaan protested with a pout, stomping his feet on the ground.
“Okay, my champ, and you don’t trouble mama, hmm?” Rizwan said, tickling his son’s chin before kissing his forehead.
“Otay!” Armaan giggled, squealing as his father bit his cheek.
“Drive safely,” Tahira reminded him from the doorway.
“I will. Bye, my love,” he replied.
“Bye-bye!” Armaan waved excitedly, delighted to have his mama all to himself now.
Tahira closed the door and carried him to his playpen.
“Don’t be naughty, mama has some work, okay?”
“Otay,” he chirped sweetly.
