Mohammad Omar Faruk was excited to be a father.
He video-called his pregnant young wife back in Bangladesh every day, checking on her, planning their future.
Mates say he'd been glowing with pride.
But when Sanjida Neha gives birth to a baby girl next month, Omar will not be there.
The 36-year-old was one of 51 Muslims fatally shot during Friday prayer at two Christchurch mosques on March 15.
His child will grow up without him. She'll be left with stories of the pious, humble, kind and hard-working welder who moved to New Zealand for a better life for his future family.
Days after the massacre, Sanjida flew to Christchurch to figure out first-hand what happened, piece together her husband's final moments and explore what her future holds.
"We were so excited and happy. We had so many dreams together, for our family," she weeps.
And then the rain came
Sanjida didn't think her husband was at Masjid Al Noor on Deans Ave that fateful afternoon.
Early in the morning of March 15 – very late at night for her, with Bangladesh six hours behind - she kept calling.
"I was very restless that night," she says, speaking through a University of Canterbury student acting as a translator for the Herald on Sunday.
"I kept calling him until very late. Finally he asked me nicely that I should go to sleep."
It was around 8am in the Garden City when Omar left for work. He'd told Sanjida he expected a long day working outside at a construction site on a moody autumn day.
Around lunchtime, it started to rain.
His boss said he could knock off early and Omar's eyes lit up. He hardly ever got the opportunity to attend Friday prayer at the golden-domed mosque across Hagley Park - work came first and his religion allowed that. He would usually just pray in his own time.
But around 1.30pm he arrived for worship.
He parked his car and caught up with some mates.
"He had a very strong wish to go to Friday prayer but usually he could not go because of work," Sanjida says.
"He would have been very excited to go to the mosque that day. He was a very pious and humble man"
Omar's old flatmate and fellow Bangladeshi and welder, Mojibur Rahman had been off work ill. He perked up around lunchtime and, at the last minute, decided to make Friday prayer.
He was running late. The mosque's rear car park was full when he pulled up so he parked down the road and walked.
As he approached the building's rear entrance, he spotted a man with a large gun walk up Deans Ave and turn into the front gate.
"I didn't know what was going on . . . and then the shooting started," Rahman says.
He didn't stick around. Rahman ran for his car and drove down Moorhouse Ave. Soon, police cars with sirens wailing were coming from all directions.
Rahman then started phoning around. Like Sanjida, he didn't think Omar would've been at the mosque, given his work commitments.
Only later did sketchy details of what exactly happened start to emerge.
When the shooting started, Omar and his friends tried to escape.
Omar was shot in the back. Another friend, Motasim Billa, was wounded in the thigh. Monir Hossain had a incredible escape, bullets slicing through his T-shirt but missing his body.
In the rush, Hasan Rubel couldn't get out of the mosque's main hall in time and was shot in the stomach and legs. He'd spend six weeks in hospital.
Omar was not so lucky. He would be one of five Bangladeshis to die that day. Sanjida was later told he died on the spot. But it took her an age to find out if he was alive or dead.
"We were very happy, very excited"
Sanjida, from Narayanganj, a city of two million people near the capital of Dhaka, had been studying business administration when her marriage with Omar was arranged.
He was from the same area and their families knew of each other.
But Sanjida had never seen him before - a good welding job brought Omar to Christchurch in 2015 after working in Singapore for several years.
So when she finally laid eyes on him one week before their wedding, she was overjoyed with the fit.
"We were very happy, very excited," she said.
They got married in Bangladesh on December 29, 2017. Wedding photos show the happy couple in traditional dress. Afterwards, Omar looks sharp in a dark suit.
After a long holiday in newly-wedded bliss, Omar returned to Christchurch, and his job, in February last year.
He worked hard all year. Omar and Sanjida spoke everyday via video calls and talked of their plans.
Omar wanted to finish building work on their family home where they talked about living in the future. But they also thought about coming together in Christchurch.
In November last year, he returned home for an eight-week holiday.
Sanjida soon fell pregnant.
While in Bangladesh, Omar worked hard on the house, and was keen for his wife to stay indoors as much as she could to avoid sickness and any complications.
It was a gruelling wrench when he had to return to Christchurch on January 18.
Chaos and confusion
Sanjida was still sleepy when she woke on March 15. It had been early in the morning by the time she got off the phone with Omar.
Around lunchtime, her family said they were off to Friday prayer. She joined them.
When she arrived at the mosque, a fellow Muslim said there'd been a shooting at a mosque in Christchurch. Did she know?
Sanjida hadn't heard of anything and was told she should tune into the news.
She started ringing Omar but couldn't get an answer. Text messages weren't returned.
But Neha wasn't too worried. Just a few hours earlier, Omar had gone off to work. He'd be safe.
Eventually she spoke to some of his friends. They didn't know where Omar was.
"Everyone was pretty confused," she says.
The longer the day went on, and she still couldn't reach her husband, she became more and more worried.
Later that night, she spoke to people in the Bangladesh community who had congregated at Christchurch Hospital. There were many dead and injured.
There was also confusion with a victim with a similar name.
It wasn't until the next afternoon – more than 24 hours after the attack - that she got the fateful news: Omar was dead.
"I could not believe it," she says.
"I was still thinking it couldn't happen. I was not able to accept the truth."
Soon, local media were descending on her home in Bangladesh.
She was confused, scared, unsure what to tell them.
On March 26, Omar's body along with other Bangladesh victims were flown home to be buried.
Four days later, Sanjida moved to Christchurch.
"I wanted to see what exactly had happened that day," she says. "It was very hard being so far away."
A local member of the Canterbury Muslim Association took her into their family home in Christchurch.
She wants to stay in New Zealand and raise her child here.
"I want to give her a better future. That was Faruk's dream too," she says.
The baby is due on August 31. At her 20-week scan she discovered it was a girl.
Her translator explained that Sanjida is very excited to have her first child - but also "pretty scared too".
"It was all planned to be around a family unit and that's no longer there," the friend said.
"His name will always be there but [the child] will never get to see him.
"The absence of a father for a daughter is very challenging – it's the place a girl always looks for safety, to always be crowned as a princess."