Epilogue
“Madar, Madar!” my children exclaimed, their curls bouncing about their heads. “Come.”
I chuckled, following them down the hall.
They nearly yanked my arms from their sockets with the tight grips they had on each hand.
My daughter with the attitude of her father and his looks as well.
And my son, who had taken after me, withdrawn but brave when needed.
I entered the office chamber, and they finally released me.
Hands came over my eyes, rough palms I could recognize in the dark grazing my skin.
I couldn’t help the smile bursting over my face.
“She can look now, Peder.”
At our children’s shrieks, the hands lowered.
Dayyan’s arms settled around my waist, and his chin rested on the top of my head.
A canvas covered by a thick cloth stood before us.
Our children gripped each side of the cloth, beaming smiles on their faces as they waited for their father’s approval.
I felt Dayyan nod. The cloth fell away, revealing familiar features spread in a joyful smile.
My hands clamped over my mouth and tears spurted in my eyes.
Shahzadeh Kahraman. My father.
“You said you wanted to remember him happy.”
The soft rumble of his voice sent shivers over me. I reached up, placing the palm of my hand over his beard before turning in his arms to face him.
“It’s beautiful, ashkim. I shall treasure it forever. Thank you.”
“Madar, why are you crying? You don’t like it?”
At my daughter’s words, Dayyan pulled away from me and ruffled her curls. “Your mother likes it too much. She is emotional right now.”
“Because of baby sister?” my daughter asked.
“Baby brother!” my son protested.
Dayyan chuckled and placed his hand over my protruding belly.
And yet I caught sight of his own tears when he turned discreetly to wipe his face. We fell into another embrace, watching our children play around us. I marveled at how blessed I had been. And how every day I lived, I lived for them.
THE END