LOVE TRIALS

xvii

How many times can the same thing break your heart?

As long as you love it.

🥀

Will add the translation in a few hours.

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"Assalamualaikum, Mr Hamza," Dr Khateeb greeted, walking into the room. "How have you been?"

"Fine," Hamza murmured, he didn't even bother to spare a glance at the doctor, the pristine white tiles of the floor held his attention.

"How do you feel?" Doctor Khateeb began with his customary questions.

Hamza answered tersely, quickly.

Khateeb's eyebrows drew, together when no one interuppted them for the next several minutes, usually one attendent always accompanied the patient. He inquired, "Did you come alone?"

Hamza's sour mood, darkened, considerably.

"Why doctor?Are you looking for my wife?" Hamza sneered, looking at Khateeb.

Hamza Hassan Omer was suspicious of his own doctor.

It was ridiculous. He was slowly losing his mind. 

Doctor Khateeb schooled his baffled expression and held Hamza's unflinching gaze.

"Do not disrespect your wife by making needless assumptions," Khateeb blinked and the anger in his disappeared. He gently cautioned, "You must refrain from exerting unnecessary pressure on your leg after the cast is removed. Take it slow. You don't want to cause additional damage to your leg."

Khateeb stood up, "Let's get on with it, shall we? Nurse Moin will help you on the stretcher."

"I'll do it, myself," Hamza spoke, harshly when the male nurse stepped forward. With a slight nod of Khateeb's head, he backed away as they waited for Hamza to make his way to the gurney in the wheel chair. He had surmised from Hamza's previous visits to his clinic that he was a difficult man.

It wasn't easy to watch him struggle alone as he raised himself from the chair, to stand on one leg and then, drag himself to sit on the stretcher. Once sat, Hamza took a deep breath. The exertion had left him out of breath.

He hadn't done it the first time, he had been doing it since he had send Sophia away. He had slipped many a times before he got a hang of it and learned to transfer himself from the chair to bed or to another chair. In the beginning it had been exceptionally difficult, his arms had been unable to support his weight the first few times and he had failed, he had broken down in the cursed chair.

His back hurt, his head hurt. His heart too. It hurt everywhere. Sophia and Ardashir had yet to return.

Hamza sighed with relief when the cast was removed. It felt like his leg could finally breathe, he brushed off a twinge of pain when the doctor flexed his knee.

"Please, continue the prescribed exercises and practice caution. Visit me in three weeks." Hamza acknowledged with a nod of his head.

He dared not look back when he limped out of the clinic, grasping the walking stick tightly in his hand. Hamze glanced at his leg as he sat in the car. He was never coming back, again.