Epilogue
EPILOGUE
CHRISTIAN
“Brother, what is that ?” Umaima made a gagging sound from the back of her throat when Osama placed the large tray of burnt rice on Hasan’s floor.
With his gloved hands, Osama put a hand on his outstretched hip and glared at Umaima. “Instead of being ungrateful, you could say thank you.”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “Aren’t you glad this is what you’re getting for the rest of your life?”
“An ungrateful wife and her grouchy brother, I’m the luckiest man in the world.” He deadpanned.
Hasan covered his mouth with a fist, his shoulders twitching watching them bicker.
The two got on each other’s fucking nerves and somehow, they were forced to get married— stay married? It was weird as fuck for sure. Many years ago, Umaima and Osama were going to get married. This was when they lived in Pakistan. Umaima was fifteen and Osama was seventeen. Apparently, according to recent files Hasan found, the two had their Islamic wedding and they didn’t know. To make matters worse, Umaima’s grandmother was on her deathbed and wanted to see them together. Here they were—this time, legally getting married and doing their Nikkah again. Their bickering increased, tensions were high, but hey, at least I was fucking happy.
Exactly then, my wife skipped over from the kitchen. Her cheek covered in unidentifiable substances, a babbling Yunus tugging on her leg, and smiles as wide as ever.
“You guys didn’t dig in yet?” Her brows furrowed downwards, “Is there something wrong with the rice?”
Umaima and Osama shared a look. “Not at all!”
On cue, everyone poured the burnt rice on their plates. Adelaide turned to look at me, “What?”
“You shouldn’t be doing any work in this state,” I nipped her cheek. “The doctor said you needed rest.”
I pulled her closer beside me on the cotton bedsheet we used as a dining table. Our home only had an island and Umaima said this was the way she and Hasan ate food with their family.
My arm rubbed her tummy in a soothing circle. She was about to enter her second trimester, the bump was more prominent than before, and both of us were fucking thrilled about this.
“I like making food for you,” she beamed.
She then turned to look at everyone, starting with Hasan. “How’s the rice?”
Umaima’s eyes widened while she struggled to swallow her bite. Osama looked like he was going to explode.
The two met my glare and stuffed their mouths with more rice. “ Amazing .”
“I’ve never had anything this good before!”
“You’re perfect, Adelaide.”
With that, Adelaide pressed a quick kiss to my lips and even though I fucking wished it lasted longer, we ate her stale rice in silence, laughed, and enjoyed each other’s company.
She took her phone out, quickly snapping a picture of everyone talking.
“What’s that for?” I asked.
Adelaide wiped away a grain of rice from the corner of my lip. “It’s for the tent.”
After we got back together and the universe finally decided to give us a break, we went back to see the last tent. When she walked in to find it empty, she had this adorable expression on her face.
The truth was, I didn’t prepare the last tent because I was hoping it’d be our tent. Adelaide never got the chance to celebrate herself. The last tent was infinite—for every birthday now, to every birthday next, she’d decide what she wanted to be.
I’d never known how powerful love was until I found the people who defined it for me.
Just like that, my happily ever after began.
THE END