The house was still.

Moonlight spilled across the marble floor, weaving soft silver shadows. Somewhere in the distance, the city of Mumbai slept—but inside the Malik household, two tiny miracles were wide awake.

Two months old.

Eyes big.

Cheeks chubbier than clouds.

One boy, one girl. A perfect pair—like fate wrapped them in a bow and gifted them to Akif and Zoya.

Zoya lay fast asleep on the sofa, her dupatta half-fallen, eyelashes fluttering like she was still dreaming. She’d been exhausted after a full day of lullabies, diaper changes, and whispered nursery rhymes.

Akif tiptoed into the nursery—his shirt unbuttoned halfway, hair messy, eyes soft. One hand cradled his daughter, the other rested on the tiny tummy of his son, who was cooing softly in his crib.

He leaned in close to them both.

And with the gentlest smile, he whispered between the stillness of night:

“Your mom… is the queen of this whole world. My world. Yours too. Always protect her. Always love her like I do.”

The twins blinked slowly, almost as if they understood.

He kissed both their foreheads, tucking the blanket around them.

Moments later, Zoya stirred.

She walked in, her voice still sleepy but heart full, seeing him watching their children like a love-struck fool.

She leaned down next to the cribs, kissed each baby on their cheeks, and smiled. Her voice a whisper of honey:

“And your Abba… he is the king. Brave, gentle, loyal. The kind of king fairy tales envy.”

She looked up at Akif, and he looked down at her, hearts saying everything words couldn’t.

No drama.

No chaos.

Just peace.

Just love.

Just them.

Together, they stood hand in hand, watching their little prince and princess slowly drift into dreams.

The journey had been messy, broken, painful—

But this?

This was the ending.

And the beginning.

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“Tu jo pass ho fir kya ye jahan? Tere pyar me ho jaun fanah~”

~Anniewrites.