When Life Gives You Lemons (Sun Tower, #1)

by Noor Sasha

You’re an ass. An idiot.” She pauses and looks up at me, revealing her deadly dimples. “My idiotic asshole.” “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” I take the plates and land a kiss on her forehead.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me goodnight, Abbu-ji?” she teases with a grin. “Kiss my ass.” I flash my middle finger as I stroll out.

He looks down at me with devotion and protection in his dark-brown gaze. I’m safe. I’m safe with this man. With my husband. “Hello, beautiful.” I stifle a laugh, wiping away the whipped cream from his cheek and licking my thumb clean. “Hey, handsome.” Azeer grins at me, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “How’s my wonderful wife doing tonight?” “She’s . . . getting by. How’s my hypnotizing husband holding up?” “He’s doing excellent, especially knowing what’s underneath that towel,” he says, his finger hooking over the upper hem. “Mind if I take a look?” “Off!” I swat his hand away. “Go bake the cupcakes. I expect all one hundred to be ready for Little Stars’ celebration tomorrow.” Azeer grabs my face, squishing my cheeks together and planting an assuring kiss on my lips. “I’ll set aside a special cupcake just for you.” “Don’t poison it.” “Was planning on it, but then I realized I threw out the rat poison after I fell in love with you.”

them from the bottom. “I like this,” I say, letting out a contented sigh. “Hmm?” “This thing we do when I’m overthinking, and you’re here to calm those thoughts down by combing my hair or applying lotion to my arms.” “I do love your arms.” His eyes twinkle playfully. “And your lion’s mane.” Even when the comb gets stuck in my wild hair, I barely feel the pull on my roots from his delicate touch. “Do you know why I chose the bathroom for us to communicate?” he asks, his tone more serious. “Because you’re evil and get off on using my PTSD against me?” He tugs on a strand of my hair, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Every time you feel anxious, I want you to look at this counter and remember all the conversations we’ve had here. Remember the words I’ve said to you, the advice I’ve given you and the silly conspiracy theories we’ve indulged in with Zoha while brushing our teeth.”

“Would you agree we’ve had more than just conversations, Dr. Khan?” I tilt my head, resting my cheek on my shoulder. “Well, if you’d like to distract yourself with thoughts of my face buried between your beautiful legs, sweetheart, then be my guest.” He chucks my chin. “I’m a happy man either way.”

“I had a panic attack while I was showering. You were there—” “I know, sweetheart. I was there for you,” he interrupts softly. “What’s your point, Azeer?” “I was also there when you were staring at the baby toys. When I see you rubbing your stomach and frowning sometimes. When you secretly watch pregnancy videos on your phone.” Azeer’s fingers gently entwine in my hair as he lifts my face, bringing our eyes to the same level. “Alina jaan, we have our whole lives ahead of us. You have your daycare centre, and I have the hotel. And together, we have Zoha to take care of. She needs all the attention we can give her right now before we bring in a sibling for her.”

“I promise, Alina jaan. In all due time, we’ll get there together.” I nod, feeling my face flush as I bury it in the crevice of his neck and tightly grip the back of his shirt. “Together,” I murmur softly.

I am so incredibly lucky to have him in my life, someone who understands my struggles and finds ways to support and help me through them. And I know that no matter what happens, this simple bathroom counter will always remind us of a safe space to share our thoughts and feelings.

“Anything else on your mind?” he asks me kindly. I pull away slightly and meet his gaze. “You didn’t kiss me.” Azeer chuckles and leans in, planting a sweet, chaste kiss on my lips. He lingers there for a few seconds, causing delightful tingles to spread throughout my body. “I was lying, by the way.” “About?” “Pushing back the ceremony.”

“Alina jaan, can you help me?” I groan as it begins to peel from my forehead. My wife enters the bathroom with her perfectly applied mask. Pretty woman. “God, Asseer. How are you running a five-star hotel if you can’t even apply a facemask properly?” She swats my hands away and uses her soft fingertips to flatten the creases. “This is a very expensive product, so I need both of you to make sure you’re not touching it every two seconds.” “Did you use my card?” “Obviously.” I smirk with pride. “Good.”

Knowing my wife is swiping my credit card to make unnecessary, over-expensive purchases brings me joy. Turns out, they’re all figurines she’s been pining for since her teenage years but could never afford on her meagre childcare assistant salary. But hey, if it makes her happy, I’m content to watch every last cent disappear.

“Let’s take selfies!” And by ‘selfies,’ she means an endless stream of mirror selfies, face-front selfies, and silly-filter selfies. “I wish Lemon could also wear a facemask. He’d look so cute!” “Testi...

“Well, good to know we’re raising a child prodigy.”

THE BEST CHILD PRODIGY 🥹❤️

She reaches inside the bowl without even looking and crushes the cupcake. Fuck me. “Ew, ew, ew! What the hell?” Alina wrings her head clean from the frosting, getting the crumbs and cream on my sweatpants. I don’t know if I want to choke her or choke her.

“Zoha, start recording.” “What’s going on?” “Shut it, Nuisance!” I turn off the movie and clear my throat, getting down on one knee. Fuck, okay. I’m doing this. Even if it wasn’t how I envisioned it. But then again, nothing with Alina has been how I envisioned it. “Alina Azlan—” “Oh my god,” she breathes out. “You’re actually doing this?” “Shut— Yes, Alina jaan. Yes, I am doing this. I’ve wanted to do this for a while now, so just let me do my thing. I’m really anxious right now, and I’m pretty sure I’ll start crying any second.” She laughs, covering her mouth as tears gather in her eyes. She quickly pulls Zoha onto her lap and hugs her for support. “Alina Azlan.” When I look at her, with her silly facemask still on, her dimples popping from underneath, and her brown doe-eyes glistening, I forget the speech I practiced in my office at the hotel. “Azeer Khan,” she prompts. Zoha widens her eyes at me to continue, pointing at the phone. “Alina,” I whisper, forgetting my rehearsed words and spilling whatever I’ve kept bottled up since our meeting. The ring pinched between my fingers shakes. You can do this. You can do this, Azeer. But my mouth feels like a desert, and she’s like a mirage of beauty sitting before me, making me feel like a teenager again. Alina takes the ring box from my hand and places it aside. “Sit down.” “But—” “Shut it, Asseer.” I shut up and sit back on the couch. She sits Zoha onto my lap, quickly pulls my ring from my finger, and replaces it with her rin...

🧍‍♀️🚂

“My Asseer. My Dr. Khan. Meri jaan. My handsome, clinically arrogant husband.”

“My sweet Nuisance,” I whisper, cupping Alina’s cheek and leaning into her for a kiss. Then I crown Zoha with another kiss. “My brave baby.” I embrace them wholly, breathing in the scent of home. “My beautiful, brilliant girls.” When I look at my wife, she’s already sobbing sappy tears. “You’re mine, Alina jaan.” “And you’re mine,” she breathes out, brushing her thumb over my wet cheek.

“Sentiments do suit you, Azeer Khan,” Alina says, touching my lips with the tips of her fingers. Our faces are close; our eyelashes brush one another’s. With a soft sigh, she rests her face in the crook of my neck, kissing my rapid pulse and wrapping her arm around Zoha. “All. Mine.” “Yours, Mama.” “Yours, Alina jaan.”