Page 17 of Good As Hell

“Going on Bear Hunt?” I ask Ayaan, to which he nods excitedly. This is what I normally do any time I need to keep him busy while he’s waiting.

I can feel Hassan’s eyes on us, but I do my best to ignore him. Not letting his scrutiny bother me. I know he’s fascinated with his son just by looking on as Ayaan played with the cat someone cleverly took away. Warm towels are placed on the side of the thick blanket.

“Ayaan, come here son.” And without a second look, my baby scrambles from my lap and toddlers over to Hassan. My heart squeezes when he brushes a soft kiss to his curls and washes his hands. More towels a place beside me. I follow, doing the same, taking my time to keep busy and not look at father and son toomuch. It’s like a dream and nightmare wrapped together in some twisted fever dream.

No sooner than I put the towel down is the food being served.

Fragrant dishes and porridge of honey and dates are placed in front of us.

“I read he has no allergies, is that correct?” Hassan asks in smooth tones.

“Yes, I had him tested since I developed an egg allergy when I got pregnant with him.” Not being able to meet his eyes, I keep my gaze on his powerful hands, securing the bib around Ayaan’s neck.

“Mommy eat, eat.” My happy baby scrambles back, coming to sit with me.

I feed him first. The porridge and dates make him hum and wiggle with joy. My baby loves to eat. I give him morsels of baked chicken and soft, yeasty rolls with a honey butter topping.

“Yummy,” offering me a bite, he gives me a greasy little smile. I can’t help but to return.

Darting a quick glance at his father, I briefly wonder if Ayaan looks like him when he smiles. My chest squeezes when I see the longing his in his face as he looks us.

He catches me looking at him and it’s like a curtain drops over his features. All softness is wiped from his features. His gaze goes glacial as his regard lasers on me alone. There is no softness there. That only belongs to the baby we share.

“Ahem.” Clearing my throat, I push as much cheer into my voice as I can. “Do you want to give your daddy some?”

“Baba.” Comes the cold, cutting correction.

My gaze trips over to his. His mouth thins at the question in my eyes.

“We say, baba, here.” He clarifies with a coldness so diabolical that even Ayaan’s curly little head swivels around to look at him.

Soothing reassuring circles on my baby’s back, I say with soft reassurance, “Baba, it is. Honey, would you like to give your baba some?”

“Baba?” Turning back to me, he asks with uncertainty.

“Yes, baba.” Smiling, I nod to Hassan. “Yes, baba is hungry. Look how grumpy he got just for a second. He’s happy now, but still hungry. Would you like to share with Baba?”

“Baba, share?” he cries giddily. Moving to stand with a morsel of meat tightly held in his little fist, he goes over to Hassan, hope shining in his eyes.

The glimmer of a smile quirking the corners of an otherwise grim face is very much like the one I mused about earlier.

Seeming not minding the mess, Hassan scoops Ayaan up, gobbling up the messy food his son presses into his mouth with enthusiasm.

Eating the delicious array of food set before me I soak in the tableau of son and father bonding over a simple meal. I was scared to admit the dream I dared not have my entire pregnancy and since the birth of my son. Seeing it come true before my very eyes, regardless of circumstance, makes my heart nearly explode with joy.

Eventually they are done and Hassan seems to take more time than absolutely necessary cleaning them both up. Settling a dosing Ayaan in his lap, he pins me with a piercing gaze as I clean my hands with freshly presented towels.

“Now we will speak of about the repercussions of your actions.” Idly stroking our son’s curls, he rises in one fluid motion from the crossed seating position he was in.

Full and despite the hours of choreography, I still find myself struggling a little to rise. He looks down at me like a god from on high as I ungracefully come to stand before him.

Not bothering to wait beyond that small courtesy, he leads me out of the garden through the double doors flanked by two more fierce faced female attendants.

Walking through the expanse of the majestic suite, I follow him as he passes through the living area into a bedroom where a custom bed sits on a dais. Skirting around it, he enters another room off to the side. I follow him, curious as to where he’s taking Ayaan.

The room we enter is a toddler’s paradise. Life, like animals, line the walls. The Serengeti themed room is a delight. The wall mural is of thick grasses with various animals peaking through. National Geographic couldn’t have captured the animals better. Birds seem to soar from the blue skies. Elephants are in the background and lions look to roam off in the distance. The motif is continued through the room. The bed is as if it’s nestled in a tree with the bed enclosed in its leaf like pillows.

Turning in a slow circle, I marvel at the effort that went into the room and with my son’s favorite things in the world. Ayaan has been on a serious animal kick since his first birthday.

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