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"Asalamu alaykum warahmatullah, Assalamu alaykum warahmatullah"

Completing his prayer, he turned first to the right and then to the left, each movement marked by a fluidity from the years of doing so. Even in this simple act, his side profile was remarkably attractive, revealing the sculpted contours of his face with a quiet elegance. The play of light accentuated the lines and angles of his face, making him look ethereal.

The early morning breeze blew into the window of the prayer room. Abia yawning on the right of me on the pillows as she stretched. Such a lazy cat.

Hassan turned to face me on his prayer mat as I joined him in performing the duas and dhikr after Salah.

I couldn't pray with him because I was on my monthly break and women are not allowed to pray, hold the Quran or fast during this time. But you can do other acts of worship apart from that.

When he was done, Hassan walked over to where I was and placed his hand on my stomach as he rubbed it gently as he asked softly,

"Do you need anything? Heating pad? Chocolate? Another pillow?"

I blushed as I shook my head no.

I felt awkward about being on my period. Yes I know it's normal but that's just how I was. And hassan was so open about it which is something I definitely am not used to. When I would send abubakr to the grocery store sometimes for what I needed during this time, he would look so uncomfortable. So I assumed all males would be. Not hassan though.

I found out I got my period when I had gone to perform ablution in the toilet. After I took care of myself I had gingerly walked back into the room and sat there on the bed in silence as I overthought about how I would tell him that i would not be joining him for a week.

Hassan walked into the room closing the buttons on the sleeves of his white abaya, hair slicked back by water as stared at me in confusion and asking why I wasn't dressed yet.

"Go ahead" I said, already feeling embarrassed.

He looked lost as he stared at me as if I had grown a beard .

"But we always pray together. Why don't you wanna pray with me, sweetheart ?" He asked, his voice turning sad.

"I would if i could, babe" I responded quickly as I screamed internally at myself to just say the words. But I couldn't. It just wouldn't come out.

Hassan stood frozen for a moment, his gaze fixed on me, a bewildered expression etched across his face. Then, as if a realization dawned upon him, his features eased into a more relaxed demeanor, and a soft, amused chuckle escaped from his lips. I watched as he murmured some words to himself as he crossed the room to reach me.

As he walked over I couldn't help noticing how handsome my husband was. His soft waves of dark chocolate hair gently swayed. I found myself once again captivated by his deep green eyes as they pulled me in. His Luscious eyelashes framing those eyes. His face, to me, really was like a masterpiece, defined by his unfairly high and chiseled cheekbones. His slightly darker olive skin tone standing out with his attire.

"Wanna come keep me company while I pray?" He asked me with a soft smile.

I gave a shy nod as i took his outstretched hand as he led me to the prayer room.

"Darling, there's nothing for you to feel embarrassed about. It's perfectly normal. I'm your husband , and that means having some uncomfortable conversations. We can't avoid them. Okay?" he asked, his gaze focused on me, waiting for my response.

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