Accepted With Flaws

-Ayesha, My mother-

And We have enjoined upon man [care] for his parents. His mother carried him, [increasing her] in weakness upon weakness, and his weaning is in two years. Be grateful to Me and to your parents; to Me is the [final] destination.

(Surah Luqman 31:14)

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Omaiza'Pov

"Abbu?" His presence overwhelmed me, and without hesitation, I rushed towards him, embracing him tightly. As tears streamed down my cheeks, his comforting circles on my back eased my emotions. After a while, I reluctantly let go.

"Your cheeks are as red as a tomato now," he chuckled, lightening the mood, as I wiped my nose.

"Assalamu alaikum, uncle," Lut greeted, shaking hands with Abbu.

"Walaikum salam, son. You can call me Abbu Lut, I won't mind," Abbu smiled warmly.

"Yeah, yeah, Uncle... I mean Abbu," we laughed, breaking the tension.

We headed inside for breakfast, and amidst Abbu and Lut's conversation, I checked my phone, responding to well wishes and chuckling at awkward snapshots.

"Omaiza," Abbu called my name, bringing me back.

"Yes, Abbu, did you say something?" I inquired.

"Yes, baccha. In sha Allah, you both will be taking your flight tomorrow. Till then, you can stay at Lut's place."

"Tomorrow?" I frowned.

"Yes, in sha Allah. I have pending work. If you want to extend, I'm fine with it," Lut offered hesitantly.

"No, no, it's fine," I reassured, albeit awkwardly.

Lut left us alone, and I took a sip of my vanilla latte before blurting out, "It's only been one night since we got married, but it feels like much longer, Abbu."

"I understand, dear. In sha Allah, things will settle down with time," Abbu consoled, his hand resting on mine.

"Abbu..." I started, then hesitated, unable to voice my thoughts.

"Yes, baccha?" he prompted, raising an eyebrow.

"It's nothing, Abbu. I just miss Ammi," I diverted the conversation.

He frowned, his expression growing serious. "Omaiza, dear," he held my hands, "do you really want to know about Ayesha?"

"Yes, Abbu. I've always wanted to know more about Ammi," my eyes lit up.

"Ayesha was the best thing that ever happened to me," Abbu began, his gaze fixated on his coffee.

"In our 20s, we were so happy when we had you. From pregnancy to your birth, we cherished every moment. We never did a gender reveal because it didn't matter. What mattered was our first baby, proof of our love," a genuine smile graced his lips.

"After you were born, we were overjoyed. We thanked Allah day and night for blessing us with a beautiful daughter like you," his eyes welled up.

"Until one day," he paused, the room growing heavy with unspoken words.

"There was a rumor that you weren't my child," he admitted, his voice choked with emotion. "At first, I ignored it, but people's taunts and pity for me didn't stop. They cursed Ayesha."

I felt a surge of pain, my heart aching for both of them. "Abbu..." I tried to comfort him.

"No, Omaiza, you deserve to know the truth," he wiped his nose, continuing his confession.