The afternoon sunlight filtered softly through the half-closed curtains of the hospital's private room, painting warm golden streaks on the pale walls. A peaceful stillness settled in the room, broken only by the soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional distant echoes of hospital footsteps and murmurs.
Maryam had just been shifted from the labor room into her private suite. Her face, though weary, glowed with a serene radiance. There was something sacred in the air — a calm after the storm, a quiet reward after a labor of love. She rested against the white pillows, her back supported and shoulders draped in a soft shawl. Her eyes, heavy with exhaustion, still held a sparkle of joy — the joy only a mother knows after bringing life into the world.
A few moments after she was comfortably settled, the nurse walked in holding a small bundle of joy — her newborn son, wrapped snugly in a white and blue blanket. The nurse gently handed the baby into Maryam's arms.
Maryam's hands trembled slightly as she took him, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions — love, awe, relief, gratitude. She gazed into his tiny sleeping face, tracing his delicate features with her eyes. His miniature nose, rosebud lips, and soft lashes stirred something eternal within her.
She took a deep breath, smiled, and whispered softly, "Irfan…"
Haroon, sitting beside her and watching this sacred moment unfold, leaned in slightly. "Irfan?" he asked, his voice warm.
Maryam turned to him and nodded, her voice gentle yet firm, "Yes… Irfan. I want to name him after your late father. He was a man of honor, compassion, and strength. I see that legacy in this little face."
Haroon's eyes misted. He nodded respectfully. "It's a beautiful name. And it suits him perfectly."
After a short silence, Maryam looked at him again and asked with sudden concern, "Haroon… did you say the Azan in his ears?"
Haroon smiled, leaning in to place his hand gently on the baby's head. "Of course, I did. Right after his birth. I whispered every word in his right ear, and then the Iqama in his left. He opened his eyes for a second when I said 'Allahu Akbar.' It felt… spiritual."
A soft sigh of relief left Maryam's lips. She then gently adjusted herself, unwrapping a side of the baby's blanket and brought him to her chest. With maternal instinct, she began breastfeeding her newborn — a moment of purity, connection, and nurturing love. Haroon turned away slightly, giving her the privacy and respect she deserved, though he remained close, holding her free hand.
Just then, Ubaid entered the room slowly, his small eyes lighting up with curiosity and excitement. He walked up beside the bed and looked up at his mother. "Mama… can I see my baby brother?"
Maryam smiled and nodded.
Haroon bent down, picked Ubaid up in his arms, and gently sat on the bed beside Maryam. Ubaid peered into the tiny face of his newborn brother now nestled in their mother's arms.
The boy's eyes widened with wonder. He reached out hesitantly, softly touching the baby's cheek, then his tiny hands. The baby moved slightly, letting out a faint, sleepy sigh.
"He's so small…" Ubaid whispered in awe.
Maryam chuckled. "You were even smaller when you were born."
Ubaid blinked at her in disbelief. "Really?"
Haroon ruffled his son's hair. "Yes, really. And now look at you — my brave big boy."
Ubaid gently leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on Irfan's forehead. Then, in a voice filled with innocent sincerity, he said, "Don't worry, little brother. I'm here for you… I'll protect you from anything bad."
The room fell into a heartwarming silence as everyone heard those words. Rimsha, who had quietly stepped in and stood by the door, smiled and wiped the corner of her eye. Even the nurse passing by paused at the doorway for a second, touched by the pure bond between the two brothers.
Maryam hugged Ubaid close with her free arm and whispered, "May Allah make you both each other's strength."
Haroon looked at the three of them — his wife, his elder son, and his newborn — and felt something profound settle in his chest. This was more than happiness. This was barakah. This was a new chapter in their lives — one where love had deepened, family had grown, and bonds had multiplied.
Rimsha clapped her hands lightly and said, "I think someone just earned the title of 'Best Big Brother.'"
Everyone laughed softly. The quiet joy in that hospital room became a memory to be cherished for a lifetime — the day Irfan entered the world and Ubaid welcomed him with love and protection.
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