“Anyway. That’s why I didn’t want to go in for the interview today,” Aziz told her. “I know what I know about our family. I know it’s beautiful, that it’s wholesome. And I don’t feel the need to prove that to anyone else. I mean, look at us.”
Amity assessed the scene, then: the young, gorgeous family beneath the clouds and the sun, eating slowly in the garden. She shivered with what could only be deep, unquestionable joy. “It’s a kind of paradise, isn’t it?” she breathed.
“It is. But it’s nothing I can put into words,” Aziz told her. “I can’t describe pure joy to a television interviewer. I doubt it’s ever been done, and I don’t think I’m talented enough to capture it.”
Amity bowed her head. “When you have happiness, it’s so hard to point your finger at it. It’s so hard to frame it. It passes through you, and you become it,” she said.
“Exactly,” Aziz said. “And I don’t want to ask for anyone else to give their approval. My life is more than enough for me. It completes me.” He took her hand, then. He traced her fingers with his own. “You’re more than I could have ever asked for, Amity. And our babies—well, I couldn’t ask for anything more.”
Amity crept closer to him and leaned her head against his shoulder, nuzzling him. Beside them, their babies drifted into slumber. “Your people will know how good you are in time,” she told him. “Your image doesn’t need to be cultivated. There are so many better things to do with your time.”
“Like making love to you,” he whispered. He kissed her deeply, then, bringing his hand behind her head to catch her. They held each other on the blanket, beneath the sun, feeling the path form before them: the path that would lead them to a beautiful future, to aging alongside one another, to finding peace and hope for each passing day.
“The world is a better place because you’re in it,” Amity murmured between kisses. “I need you to know that.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon in the garden, at times joking together, passing the babies between them. The triplets cooed on the blanket, each in their matching purple onesie, kicking their honey-colored feet into the air.
“Kamil looks just like you,” Amity laughed, tracing her finger over the baby’s cheek.
“Then he’ll be a heartbreaker,” Aziz said, cradling Una’s head. “But we’ll never let the girls out of the house. Right?”
Amity shook her head, her eyes dancing. “You aren’t going to be one of those fathers, are you?”
“You know I can only be one of those fathers,” he said. “I’ll destroy any man who tries to break these girls’ hearts.”
“They’ll love you more than anything, but they’ll be mortified by everything you do,” Amity teased.
“I suppose that’s my lot in life.”
“I’m looking forward to that,” Amity laughed.
They continued like this, imagining the world they’d create for their family. Imagining the careers they’d have, the places they’d visit, the way they’d play tricks on their mother and father in the grand mansion.
“Do you ever think about what you want to do next?” Amity asked Aziz several hours later. They were both splayed out on the blanket, their eyes to the late afternoon sky. It was nearly nightfall, and the blue was shrouded with orange and pink.
“I think about starting my own charity, sometimes,” Aziz said, his voice thoughtful. “So often, I don’t approve of the tactics of the existing ones in Al-Mabbar.”
Amity considered this, her mind rolling. Naturally, launching a charity would improve Aziz’s image immensely—but she didn’t want to say it, knowing full well that he wasn’t doing this for image reasons. “I’ll help you,” she murmured.
“You would?” he asked her. His voice was quiet, lost in thought.
“Of course. I’m here to help you with everything. For the rest of my life.”
A few minutes later, the pair of them collected their children and headed upstairs, toward the nursery. They knelt low in the bassinets, splaying the babies comfortably, ensuring they didn’t wake them. And they stood, hand in hand, watching them sleeping.
“It’s amazing how much they look alike, even now,” Aziz said. “I know they’ll all be so different one day.”
“But they’ll still be ours,” Amity murmured, rubbing at the muscles in her back.
“They will. And we’ll belong to each other. Even through the wrinkles and the weirdly-placed hairs that’ll grow from our cheeks and our chins and our backs,” Aziz laughed, tossing his hand over her shoulders.
“Don’t say that so quickly,” Amity teased him, walking back toward the hallway, toward their bedroom. “I don’t know what I’ll think of your graying self in a few years.”
“You’ll probably think I’m hideous,” Aziz whispered. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up, carrying her toward the steps. “You won’t be able to look at me, let alone sleep next to me, or even make love to me.”
Amity felt such lust for him in that moment. She nodded, leaning into him, linking their lips together. “You’re right. It’ll just be too disgusting for me,” she whispered. “It’ll be too much.”
“I’m glad you agree,” he said. He lifted her onto the bed and lowered himself over her, kissing her cheek, her neck, before removing her dress. “I’m glad you agree that we just won’t be right for each other then.”
Amity kissed him once more, her passion for him beaming through her. “Just shut up now,” she teased him, taking him over her. “Just shut up and be mine, now.”
They lay on the large bed, in the stunning mansion in downtown Al-Mabbar, lost in the fury of their love for each other. As a PR executive, Amity knew she couldn’t have formed a more perfect image for her life. Luck was clearly on her side.
The End