When Baba Put the Phone Away for Story Time

Baba used to tell stories about prophets and kites and stubborn goats that made Zaid laugh until his pillow slipped. Lately Baba stared at his phone after dinner, scrolling with a crease between his brows. Story time faded like a dimming lamp.

One night Zaid waited in pajamas until his eyes stung. Baba said, "Later, habibi," without looking up. Zaid's chest felt heavy. He missed Baba's voice more than any game on a screen.

Mama spoke gently to Baba, and the next evening he placed the phone in a drawer. "Tonight is for us," he announced. Zaid clapped. Baba told a story about a boy who shared his dates with travelers, and Zaid leaned in, warm and sleepy.

They made a rule: phones rest during story time and Fajr breakfast. Baba still read news sometimes, but not when Zaid's heart needed him. Zaid drew a picture of them reading under a blanket tent.

Baba taped it to the fridge and kissed Zaid's forehead. Zaid learned that the best stories need presence, not perfection. When Baba put the phone away, the whole house remembered how to listen.