A sequel to "Met by destiny." Could be read as stand alone.
"What is written in your destiny, will be yours. What belongs in your heart, will forever be yours."
M I N A H I L S I D D Q U E
A girl living in dreams and books, who's life is surroun...
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TWO YEARS LATER
Power is a strong emotion.
Power is not a choice. It's a havoc of a emotion which ropes you in it's vicinity.
It's so strong that you can do nothing except bask in it's glory and walk with your head held high.
Because you know you have earned it.
You own it.
I feel powerful as I wear a suit and walk in the hallways of the court.
I feel powerful as I defend my clients, ask and demand their rights in the court.
I feel powerful when I win and offer justice to the victim's families.
Yes, there are some days when I don't feel powerful, when everything goes wrong. On those days, I sit back and take a breather. Telling myself that those days won't effect me, because I refuse to rope in the darkness of those thoughts.
I have come a long way in my journey of Anxiety and panic attacks. Therapies, self training, meditation. Everything.
But the only constant emotion that drives away those thoughts are love.
Love, which my husband gives me.
Love, which I give him.
Love, which gives me so much power as I look at the two lines on the stick kept on the counter.
I feel powerful.
Because I am going to be a Mother.
And a mother is powerful.
I wipe away my tears as a impatient knock is heard on the door.
"Irhaa? Are you okay? You have been there for forty minutes."
I walk towards the door and unlock it, immediately coming face to face with my handsome husband.
His worried eyes takes me in, he grabs my face. "What's wrong? Why are you crying? Is it cramps?"
I shake my head and smile.
Instead of talking, I grab his hand and bring him inside the washroom, I lift up the stick and place it on his hand.
He stares at it for a beat. "What is this?"
"A pregnancy test."
His whole body freezes and he looks at me with wide eyes. "And the t-two lines mean?"
He stuttered.
Hasnain Iqbal Zawaar never stutters.
I grab his other hand and place it on my still flat belly. "It means there is a baby in here." A warmth spreads in my chest and emotions clog in my throat, "Our baby."
