Omar was stunned, wordless. Nothing had prepared him for this moment. No one had told him that this love would be like a kick in the balls, in the gut. He had never imagined a moment like this was even possible. This was the kind of love that drove men to fists, to blood, to bitter court battles, to the ends of the earth and back.

She yawned suddenly, her tiny mouth opening and closing in minute perfection. His heart leaped with joy, then pain. He felt confusion, then wonder. How could she yawn and then go straight back to sleep? He then remembered the pain that he had felt when Del had the miscarriage. He remembered the despair, the loss of hope.

This was a gift from the gods. His prayers had been answered. He wanted Del to be happy again, but he had underestimated his own emotions. Everything he had done in his life had led him to this moment. All the achievements, all the mistakes, his fuckups, his misanthropic moments, his personal battles, his doubts, all the women he’d fucked and not fucked—everything had led him to this. All roads had led him to Alba. This glorious, magical moment where he held his daughter in his hands.

He wanted to weep, but instead made a silent vow. He would love and protect her and be the best father to her, he would raise her to be a good and righteous person in society. And then he remembered what his father had said to him: “Whisper the Shahadah in her ear when she is born.” Omar leaned over and whispered:

Ashadu allah illa ha illalah

Muhammad ar Rasul lullah

Baby girl, come to god

Baby girl, my baby girl

* * *

We named her Strelitzia Alba, the Latin name for the white bird of paradise. Alba meant dawn, as she was born at 6.59am on the 25th of September, after 15 hours of labour. Papa had managed to find the seeds of this rare species from a heliconia grower, and planted a row of strelitzia right beside my tree in his garden, burying the placenta in the dark soil as he did.

Mercifully, I had not torn, thanks to Lisa, who asked me to push only when the contractions came. Within 24 hours I was discharged with Alba—as we decided to call her—and an entourage that included Omar’s parents and their female relatives, thousands of ringgit worth of flowers, greeting cards and my small overnight bag. I could walk.