Every morning during Ramadan, Mummy and Daddy gathered in the kitchen before sunrise. The soft clinks of cups and plates echoed as they prepared for Suhoor, the pre-dawn meal. "Let's have some dates and milk to start our day," suggested Mummy, her voice gentle. The room smelled of fresh bread and warm kindness, a familiar comfort every morning.

After Suhoor, the family gathered in the living room for a moment of reflection. Daddy sat with the Quran in his lap, a peaceful smile on his face. "Ramadan is a time to be grateful and help others," he shared, his voice full of warmth. Little Ali, their son, listened intently, his eyes wide with curiosity and wonder.

In the afternoon, Mummy and Little Ali headed outdoors to tend to their garden. "Let's water the plants. They need our care, just like us," said Mummy, handing Ali a small watering can. The garden buzzed with life, vibrant and full of promise, much like the spirit of Ramadan itself.

As the day drew to a close, Mummy and Daddy prepared Iftar, the evening meal to break the fast. The kitchen hummed with activity, the air rich with delicious scents. "Let's get everything ready for when the call to prayer begins," said Daddy, his hands skillfully arranging the dishes.

Finally, the moment arrived to break their fast. Little Ali excitedly took a date from the plate, his eyes bright with joy. "Bismillah," said Mummy, as they all began to eat together. The room was filled with laughter and stories, a tapestry of togetherness woven with each shared bite.

After Iftar, the family gathered for evening prayers. The room was quiet, the gentle hum of their voices rising in unison. Daddy led the prayer, his voice a soothing melody of devotion. Little Ali followed along, his small hands clasped together, feeling the peacefulness envelop him.