AAYAT’S POV

When you win something, there is a big chance you will lose something too. I watch on the tv as my father is being walked to the van that will take him to his rightful place. Prison.

I didn’t attend his trial which took years. My mother didn’t attend either. She didn’t want to live in the riches he stole from two dead people. I asked her to live with me but she didn’t meet my eyes. She told me she is ashamed of not listening to me and went to live in an old age home.

I called her but she always just cried in response. So I stopped calling. I wrote letters to her instead. I finish this one with the same line.

You still have a daughter who would never hate you.

Love,

Inayat

She writes back each time. She may not be a begum in name anymore but my mother is more regal than I am as a duchess. Her handwriting and words say so each time she sends a letter. I seal the envelope and give it to Cassandra.

We never warmed up to each other but she grew out from her animosity. I’m not her enemy. I’m just the wife of a man she can’t have. She takes the letter and leaves. The door behind her stays open and I frown at it for a second before Harry steps in with a box.

Ever since he got to know I don’t really care for flowers, he has found different ways to make up for it. He brings me perfectly smooth pebbles sometimes like a penguin. I laugh at them but I love them.

He asked if I like books and I told him I never got the chance to read many outside of coursework. So now I have a library with enough books to last me a lifetime.

I rest my chin on my palm and smile. “What is it today? Did you find another pebble?” I ask jokingly. “I know you love them so your mocking doesn’t bother me.” He leans over the table between us to kiss my forehead.

I close my eyes to live the moment. Each time he touches me, it warms my heart and pushes anything bad that lurks in the back of my mind away. He is the one who taught me that touch could be so much more than horrible pain.

His touch is warm, it’s happy, it’s beautiful.

“Look what I found.” He says before opening the box. I smile. I believe it was his mother who collected all this stuff together. I pick up the little socks and Harry smiles at the little onesie he wore as a baby.

“She showed me a picture of you wearing that.” I point at the little shoes in the box. He smiles at the shoes. “It was yesterday that these were put to use.” He says looking at socks, shoes and clothes within the box.

“It’s been years.” I mention, picking up the photo album at the bottom. It has so many baby pictures. From the first walk to the first bike ride.

“Babies look so adorable.” I say, smiling at the pink newborn in the photo. He points at the picture on the album. “But this one is especially cute.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you scraping for praise?”

“Why, I would never. I’m not the only one who made the baby, now am I?” Said baby is now quite grown and walks in through the door with a frown on his face.

His brown eyes match mine but his golden hair shines like that of Harry. “Ethan?” I call out to my five year old. “What happened?”

He points at my husband with an accusing finger. “His daughter pushed me!” Harry raises a brow and watches our daughter, walk in behind her brother.

“I didn’t! I fell and he was in front of me. So he fell too!”

“You ruined my shirt!”

“Wear another one.”

“It is the first day of school! This is my lucky shirt!”

“Okay.” Harry stands up and pulls the twins apart before they start throwing hands. Their fights always go from 0-100 in ten seconds.

Our son is a perfectionist who needs things done perfectly. Our daughter is messy. They do not go well together. I take Ethan’s shirt off and pass it to a worker who was passing by.

“It will be washed and dried by the time you leave for school.” I put a t-shirt onto him. I also don’t understand why he needs to be dressed two hours before school.

“Tell Aurora to apologise.” Ethan says. “It was an accident!” Aurora counters. “Yes, but he did fall because of you, even though you didn’t mean it. Saying sorry won’t make you wrong, darling.” Harry brushes Aurora’s blonde hair back.

She is his daughter, through and through. His hair, his green eyes, his stubbornness. But she has my face. She looks more like me each day but Aurora is our first child, and Harry’s little girl as she is a couple minutes older than Ethan.

“Sorry.” She throws the word out like it’s a curse. “Say it nicely or no one will marry you.” I laugh at Ethan, wondering where he learns all this.

“That’s not true!” Our daughter throws her arms around her father’s shoulders. “Daddy?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ll marry Faisal uncle’s son. Ridhaan!” I watch how quickly the smile falls off of Harry’s face and how annoyed he immediately looks. Mum calls everyone down for breakfast and the kids run off.

I pat his shoulder in sympathy as he stands up. “Harry-“

“First my wife, and now my daughter. Why is that little shit still an issue in my life?” I push a hand into his hair and wrap the other one around his shoulder.

“He didn’t actually approach Aurora. She likes to run behind him while he ignores her.” I tell him. “He has the audacity to ignore my child?”

“What exactly are you mad at?”

“Everything, apparently.” I shake my head and kiss him instead. Harry is the perfect life partner. He is a great husband. An amazing father. And an even better human.

He laughs with us, he takes care of us. He picks me up from work. Teaches our kids important things and never lets me forget how much he loves me. This is the life I used to dream of when I was stuck in a painful childhood.

And now I have it. All because he freed me. And I love him for it.

~~~~~~

THE END