It had been a long, exhausting day.
Hashim's steps were slow, his shoulders weighed down by fatigue as he finally reached home. The soft creak of the gate, the familiar scent of the hallway—it offered him a brief moment of peace.
But the second he opened the door, that peace bloomed into something brighter.
Standing right in front of him was Zainab—his little daughter, waiting patiently, her arms slightly open, her eyes sparkling with joy.
All of Hashim's tiredness melted in that instant.
"Oh? So my little princess came to pick me up?" he smiled, a real smile—one he hadn't worn all day.
Without waiting for a response, he scooped her up into his arms in one smooth motion, lifting her high as she let out a delighted giggle. She wrapped her small arms around his neck. Hashim kissed her soft cheek, holding her like she was the most precious treasure in the world, and carried her inside.
Fatima stood quietly near the doorway, watching them in silence.
She didn't speak.
She didn't move.
But something inside her ached.
Her eyes stayed on them—on her husband and their daughter. The way he looked at Zainab… the way his voice softened, the way his tired eyes lit up when he saw her—it all felt so familiar… and so distant.
And deep inside her chest, something heavy stirred.
A quiet thought passed through her heart.
"My daughter has taken my place."
She hated how that thought sounded—but it lingered.
"Now, my husband only loves her… this tiny little thing. Not me."
Fatima turned her face away, pretending to adjust the bedsheets. She didn't want to ruin the moment. Of course she loved them. But for once… just once… she wished he would look at her the way he used to.
Hashim, unaware of her quiet jealousy, sat on the sofa with Zainab on his lap. He took off her tiny shoes, gently combed through her messy hair with his fingers, and whispered softly to her.
Your Mom Is Getting jealous Huh !
Zainab giggled and leaned into his chest.
Fatima glanced over again.
And just then, Hashim looked up. Their eyes met.
He smiled—tenderly, knowingly—as if he'd sensed the ache in her heart.
He stretched one arm out toward her.
"You both belong to me," he said gently. "Zainab is my soul… and you, Fatima—you are my heart."
That one sentence Melt Her heart.
She walked over quietly, sat beside him, and leaned against his shoulder.
And just like that… the ache faded into warmth.
Question For readers:
Do you like this family or not? Do you think Fatima should be jealous or is her jealousy valid?
Written By
Sabir Ali
Thanks For reading