Burn the truth (ENG)

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The doctor pulled his glasses over his nose and looked my way. Seeing my face, he nodded happily. "Welcome. Sit down."

I closed the door behind me and took a seat in one of the two chairs, opposite the doctor.

He put his glasses back on and tapped his keyboard. "I see here that there is suspicion of schizophrenia."

"Schizophrenia?" I repeated slowly.

"Schizophrenia," the male doctor confirmed. "It is a serious mental illness that affects how a person thinks, feels and behaves. People with schizophrenia have lost touch with reality. If left untreated, the symptoms of schizophrenia can be persistent and disabling."

A lump formed in my throat. "D-Do you think I have that?"

"Let's hope not." He rummaged in his drawer and pulled out a small flashlight. "I'm going to take some tests and then I'll write a report about it for the court."

With my fidgeting fingers, I nodded nervously. "O-okay," I exhaled.

~

A dark blue Mercedes-Benz stopped at my feet. I looked up startled.

At the sight of his light brown hair, I frowned in confusion. "Vico?"

"Hello." A wide smile formed on his lips. "Get in."

Shaking my head, I got into the blue car and turned around in the seat. "What are you doing here?"

Vico took his foot off the brake and drove onto the road. "I heard from Esma that you had an appointment with the doctor today. How did it go?"

I pulled on the leash and fastened it to my torso and looked straight ahead. "I don't have schizophrenia."

He gave me a confused look. "Is that something positive?"

A smile left my mouth and I nodded. "Now I hope that I can regain my rights over my children."

He gave me a reassuring look. "It will be okay, Zara." His hands turned on the steering wheel as he took a right turn. "What is going to happen now?"

I tapped my fingers nervously on my leg. "The report is submitted to the court. It remains to be seen what is decided. Possibly, therapy lessons and weekly consultations, according to the doctor."

Vico nodded interested. "It's for your own good."

A sigh left my mouth. "I know that." My eyes rolled out. "Where are we going?"

"Have lunch somewhere if that's okay with you?" His eyes looked at me questioningly.

I gave him a small smile. "Sure."

~

I took off my sneakers with difficulty and left my bag in the hallway.

Tired, I walked down the hall. Ignoring the pain in my back.

When I stepped into the living room, I saw Imran sitting on the couch. His eyes toward the window.

I stood still for a moment, not knowing what to do. After a few minutes I decided to ignore him and continue on my way. I was exhausted and a hot shower sounded appealing before going to sleep.

"Where did you stay so long?"

I rolled my eyes. "It's none of your business, Imran." I continued in my footsteps.

"Zara." Imran stood in front of me in a flash. His fingers circled my arm. "You were out early and then you come home late."

I struggled in his grip when I felt a sting in my arm. I kept a painful look. "You are hurting me, Imran."

A frown formed between his eyebrows as he wiggled his nose. Realization dawned on him and his eyes darkened. "You were with a man?"

"What the hell, Imran!" I threw his hand away angrily. "We're nothing to each other. What time I leave home, who I spend my time with and at which location, is none of your business."

He clenched his jaws. "I'm not okay with that."

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously as I created distance between us. "Where does this interest suddenly come from?"

"You're carrying my child, damn it!" he cried, annoyed.

My heart cramped painfully. "So if I wasn't pregnant, you wouldn't care if I was still alive?"

His brown-green eyes softened at the sound of my broken voice. "Zara..."

I need water. My throat screamed and begged for moisture.

Imran's behavior caused my body to suck all the liquid from my pores in preparation. To release them through my tear ducts.

I ducked into the kitchen, my back to Imran.

My fingers trembled. I was about to burst into tears.

Don't cry, Zara.

He is not worth it.

Unfortunately, even my height was failing me at this point. I couldn't get to the top cabinet.

My toes push the rest of my body to my highest potential, but my fingers only touched the edge of the plank.

For some reason, just this little futile attempt to grab a cup is enough to make you burst into tears.

Tears streaked down my cheeks. I continued to exert myself, determined to succeed in this task of easing my thirst.

A hand ran over the skin on my stomach where my long shirt had been pulled back from my jeans in my attempt to reach for a glass.

I winced, the warmth of Imran's skin against mine creating an emotion so powerful that the others blew right out of my chest.

That's all I longed for.

One touch and the bridge let go.

My feet straightened up.

For the past three months, I dreamed about Imran. I anticipated his arrival every night. I longed for tender moments when his hand stroked mine. I craved the sound of his laugh, the smell of his skin, the taste of his lips, the intensity in his eyes.

My hunger for this man's love was powerful and demanding.

I wanted it more than I wanted air, because without it I wasn't sure if life was worth living.

I wish things would go back to the way they were. But then I didn't get to know that Imran had been cheating on me all this time. That our marriage was fake and Manar was his real wife.

"Here," Imran muttered, pulling me out of my intense thoughts. He held a glass of water in front of me and I felt the urge to splash the contents in his face.

Inhale and exhale.

I didn't waste my time for this. I had to keep it up. For the children.

I ignored the glass in his hands and walked out of the kitchen, not paying any attention to him.

I wasn't allowed to stray.