Chapter 69: A Mother's Prayer

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The comments shocked me no lie.

This chapter is respectfully dedicated to Diijahyb she flooded my comment section like dieeeee.

Second place has to be Kheedy for commenting almost as much. Thank you girls so much, it means a lot to me.

I'm seeing 400 comments.

I'll pretend I don't see y'all that are voting and just walking past, it's alright.

Sha, I kept my promise it's not Monday yet.

Let's see those that will try and comment, the person with the most comments gets to ask me one question, anything you want to know and I'll answer.

Happy reading.

•••••

Fahad stared at the doctor wide eyed, wondering where to get started.

How was he supposed to know that for Allah's sake? He almost rolled his eyes at himself, she was his wife so of course he was expected to know those things.

He knew she was praying presently, heck he didn't know when she wasn't praying, she prays in her room, how is he to know? Multiple similar questions ran through his mind.

"I'm not sure," She gave him a pointed look and he ran his hands through his hair, trying so hard not to tug at the edges. "Is it very important?"

"I need to know there's no possibility of pregnancy so we'll know what test to leave out." He wanted to scream why don't they take a freaking pregnancy test then.

"No, she is not pregnant."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," His reply was clipped and she nodded letting it go.

She watched him, how his features hardened though she could still see the worry in his eyes. She considered asking if he was her husband or brother because he acted more like the latter but she felt like she was intruding so she let it go and instead and changed the topic completely.

She asked him a few questions about Khadijah's behaviour and when he gave her replies to her satisfaction she nodded and kept her pen down.

"Has your wife ever been tested for PTSD? Or maybe she has gone through anything that might trigger that." She hesitated and he saw the question in her eyes.

"I.....I think, yes?" He ran his hands through his hair, the image of Khadijah in tears when she told him about her daughter replaying in his head over and over.

"It might be possible." She nodded letting it go because he didn't look like he wanted to talk anymore.

"You can go and see her now, but please Mr. Barkindo." She handed him a card. "This is a good therapist you should consider seeing him with your wife and your wife has an appointment with our gynaecologist in a few months, the receptionist will explain more."

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