The Secret Life of My Husband, The Professor ✔️

35| Their End

Wahaj's POV

"Wahaj, are you almost ready? We're going to be late," The professor shouted through the closed bedroom door.

He stood outside the bedroom, keys in hand, pacing.

Today was the day we were going to find out the gender of the baby—the child who drained my life before coming to it. The child who was the only reason, I was alive to this day. Last night, I forced myself to pack my things before going to sleep, so I wouldn't worry about packing everything after Ibrahim leaves for the conference. So, I'll take my luggage and fly myself out of here.

This was the last day he will ever see me, I rested a hand on my bulging stomach, sending calming thoughts down to my baby. I heard Ibrahim shout through the door that we were going to be late, and I felt the baby kick under my hand.

"Yes, I know, he's impatient," I told the baby in a low voice, not wanting him to hear. I was nervous, but I knew I had to go to this appointment. At that moment, I felt more like a surrogate than a wife. I didn't have any blood tests, scans or measurements, not even the 12-week scan. So going now on my 18 weeks is vital for the baby's health and mine. Ibrahim had multiple meetings and conferences over the last weeks, so checking on me wasn't his priority.

I never voiced these concerns to him, since I knew I would only be met with phrases like 'some of us need to work.' 'I don't have time to play around.' Or my favourite of all, 'Do you make it a mission to chase every man in your life away.'

As if on cue, Ibrahim opened the bedroom door, peeking in. "Come on, we don't have all day," he whispered to me before he got back into his phone call conversation.

Ever since I found him with Rosie in his office, he had been a changed man, not the caring professor I know, but the Jerk that I am enduring every day. I walked out of the house and into his car.

Most of the way to the hospital was filled with him yelling at someone through the phone. I didn't pay any attention to the conversation because it was in a language I didn't understand. When we arrived in front of the hospital room, he signalled for me to enter while he sat outside talking through the phone.

After thirty minutes spent on the hard waiting room seats, I finally entered the doctor's office. "Lift your shirt, please," the doctor said in a monotonous voice when I had entered the room.

I complied and shivered as the cold gunk they put on my stomach. Put my eyes weren't paying attention to the monitor but to the door that didn't open, meaning Ibrahim didn't come until now.

"I am so sorry to waste your time," I said in interference as I put my shirt down, before leaving the doctor standing there without any more explanation.

I didn't know for sure if Ibrahim was deliberately avoiding me. Whatever the reason for why he wasn't around, I had no right to question him any more. I was done. I sat in the hospital chair as I texted the one person that would bring my dreams back to me.

I am done.

I waited nervously as I stared at the phone, willing it to vibrate with a text reply. 

I will meet you after he leaves for the conference. 

The replay came in on time. I glanced at it before I deleted the messages. 

**************

Ibrahim's POV

The Next Day

Before the conference was over, I got back to the house. Ahmad told me to come urgently. It was early in the morning, and everyone was there except her.

She wasn't there.

Everyone stood up suddenly when I entered. I knew what was happening; there was no denying it. There was a heavy feeling in my chest, but I smothered it before it turned into a full-fledged panic mode. There was a perfectly valid reason for Wahaj not being there to greet me or answer my phone calls; she was in the bathroom, or maybe she just was in the kitchen preparing something to eat. Yes, that was probably it.

"Where is she?" I asked without further delay.

"She's gone, Ibrahim. She didn't tell anyone, She packed her bags and left in the early morning, Delila saw her leave." Ahmad replied sadly.

"What do you mean she left ?" I angrily affirmed. "She can't just pack her bags and leave," I continued yelling for anyone to give me a valid reason why she would leave like that, "She is my wife, the mother of my child, she can't just leave" 

Did my mother say something to her that pushed over the edge?

Did she hear something that left her devistated?

Does she know? No she could Never 

"We found a signed divorce paper on the bed," My mother spoke.

"This can't be happening!" I sat on the floor. "We talked about naming the baby and about our future, and now she just leaves, just like that." I desperately pleaded for information, but no one was giving me anything.

They just watched, " I never had a chance to say everything I needed to say, so, please. Just tell me where I could find her. I can explain everything to her. I can't lose my wife and child!"

"She's at the Union Station, headed for O'hare airport. Hurry, Sir," was all Delila, the housekeeper said.

I didn't know if Wahaj was still there or how Delila was able to maintain that information. All I wanted to do was to get there. Explain to Wahaj that running won't solve anything. She needed to voice her thoughts, tell me what was wrong. Not run away. I didn't know where or how she was able to do it.

I ran for my life to the car. If there was ever a time for me to make duaa, this was it. I muttered a silent prayer, praying that I would find wahaj.

I prayed for green lights all the way and for time to go slower. Lastly, I begged with everything I had in me that I could find her in the massive sea of people. And if and when I finally found her, I prayed that I could still see some hope left in her eyes.