Epilogue

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" Anayah Taimoor Hassan!" Haya shouted as she stared at the white walls of her bedroom which weren't white anymore, but had some kind of abstract designs made all over them courtesy to their 3 year old daughter.

Anayah, Taimoor had named their daughter 'Anayah'. The moment he had held his tiny daughter in his hand, his eyes had sparkled with tears. Haya was never going to forget that moment.  The Taimoor Hassan, cried when he held his daughter for the first time. That moment Haya knew , their daughter was going to have Taimoor wound around her tiny little fingers.  

Blinking back the tears, he had looked up and said "Anayah Taimoor Hassan." It was a perfect name for their perfect little daughter. She indeed was their Anayah, Allah's grace. A naimat(blessing) .  Taimoor had come up with the name as Haya was confused, there were some many names and making a decision was something Haya had always had difficulty with. 

Anayah, who was a spitting image of Taimoor both in looks and in her behavior with her curly thick dark lashes, dark hair and even her frown .She furrowed her eyebrows like him when she thought about something that didn't made sense to her , when she got caught doing something against the rules, she would rub the back of her neck sheepishly like her dad. And most of all , she was possessive like Taimoor. Haya would never forget how Anayah lost it infront of everyone just because she held Mariyam and Shahmeer's son Hadi. When Haya, was wishing her children to take after Taimoor, she never meant inheriting his bossy, possessive attitude. It was supposed to be, his thick curly lashes,  or jaw structure . The good looks ,ONLY.   

Wasn't there this superstition that girls who take after their father's were lucky . In Haya's case it had proven to be damn right. Haya prayed the same for her daughter.

"What got you so worked up kitty?" Taimoor asked as he strolled inside the room not paying attention to anything except his wife who was fuming as she placed her hands on her hips, something she did when she was playing a strict parent.

"Your daughter! Look at these walls." She replied as she gestured towards the walls.

"I didn't know my princess was so into art. Is that a horse?" He asked looking pretty much interested in the drawings their 3-year-old had drawn on the wall .

"You are missing the point here Taimoor." She told him impatiently.

Looking at her, Taimoor wondered how motherhood changed her. It was like she was this whole different person with Anayah. Sometimes , he wondered if she had some kind of a switch in her which she only turned on when she was around Anayah . Motherhood does that to you. Doesn't it?  Haya in front of him was the responsible and protective mother. Although she herself was clumsy, she had all the blunt corners of their home covered with foams just for their daughter.  

"You need to relax. I really love what she did with the walls. Should we get her art supplies ?" His voice was filled with pride as he continued eyeing the wall hoping that maybe the rest of it would make sense to him too. Taimoor and Anayah were like that. She'd create a mess and he'd just wink at her letting her know that he had 'her mother' under control.

" Are you the same guy who used to hold my father's love against me ,complaining he spoiled me when he didn't even do half of what you are doing." She was really done with the father daughter duo, but just right now. The rest of the times she adored them. Their bond was so special and so pure. Seeing Taimoor, play a doting father with Anayah , made her love him more. Sometimes Haya found that notion strange, he was Anayah's father , obviously he was going to love her. But then she had always been strange.

"No, I am the guy whose named you moaned last night." He said giving her one of his smart ass reply.

"Wait , it was your name? Shittttt. I thought it was........" She couldn't complete the sentence as she was pinned to the nearest wall.

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