| LIFE WITHOUT YOU | ✔

«LWY2»

I wake up, rubbing my eyes. "Mama, you need to wake up." I tap her.

"Okay, you can go. Go get ready for work." She says still half asleep. "Mama, you're still asleep."

I say. "I'm not now go or you'll be late." I stand up and left the room.

My family.

It only comprises of me and my mom. My dad and my brother passed away.

My brother was in the army, you could guess the rest. My dad died sleeping.

We're not rich, nor are we poor. Below average.

I enter my bathroom, took my bathe, got dressed, of course prayed and ate.

I threw my bag on my shoulder as I went to mama who was watching. "I'm leaving, ma."

"Have you eaten?" I nod while she looks at me. "Why are you wearing this clothes? They're baggy."

She stand up. "No, they're not. They're just fine."

"How would Jabir look at you again like this?" I stop looking at my clothes to look at her.

Her eyes met with mine. "What? That is what we want."

"That is what you want, ma. He said he was tired of me and divorced me. There is nothing more to discuss."

I adjust my side bag that slides own my shoulder. "There is, you can't stay single forever even though you're barren. There are people who sincerely care about you."

I roll my eyes, tired of this conversation that played thousands of times. "Okay, I'm heading out. Bye."

"Okay, have a good day. Don't forget to wear your seatbelt."

"Okay, ma." I walk out of the house and entered my Mazda. Yeah, I doubt you know Mazda, it's not a big car.

I slid my key in the ignition before pulling out my phone to check the address.

No15 diamond street. Wait, diamond street?!

My eyes widen in shock. I'm going to one of the richest streets in this state, if not the richest.

I sigh, I better get on the road.

**********

I knock on the door, gawking at the beautiful yet humongous door. I looked at the yard that was filled with flowers, Grass, statues, walk paths and a drive through.

The door opened as a tall dark skinned man appeared, wearing a sweater and a quarter shorts.

"You must be the nurse." He says, opening the door wider so I could come in.

I smile, walking in. "Good afternoon." I say as he closes the door. "I am here to see Mr. Qahhar, is he around?"

I ask and he glances at me. "I am Qahhar Haroon, the patient." He continues walking to the next room that slowly appeared to be a sitting room.

"My apologies, I am here to tend to you and be there for whatever you need." I stop following him.

"Thank you, sit. I'll be back shortly." He says before he left. I sat down, gawking at the parlor.

The modern yet elegant interior deco. "I heard you are the best nurse." Qahhar walks back in.

"Really?"

"Yes". He sits down opposite me.

"That's flattering, I'm going to ask you a few questions if you don't mind. Do you walk or run a lot?"

I ask pulling out a book. "Yes."

I sigh, keeping my bag beside me and adjusting my veil. "Its advised that you reduce running or anything for a long time, that might make your health worse."

He narrows his eyes. "How is running worse for my health?"

He asks, giving me utmost attention. "Your joints and bones will start to ache and it hurts a lot."

"Which kind of leukaemia have I been diagnosed with?"

"Chronic Myelogenous Leukaemia (CML)".

I answer him. "Okay, what's the difference compared to the rest?"

He leans back on the chair, placing his index finger on his lip. "It is more chronic of course but myelogenous refers to the myeloids that produces red, white cells and platelets. This leukaemia affects it but I'm here to make sure it's better."

I smile as he nods. "So I'm going to die?"

I snap my head to him. "Why are you saying that?"

"Its a question."

I sigh, scratching my brows. "I'm a nurse, I've studied science and all but still I'm a Muslim, anything can happen."

I say but he just looks at me. "Okay, nurse. Should I call you nurse?"

He stands up, shoving his hands in his pocket. "I don't mind, have you eaten yet?"

I ask standing up. "No, why?"

"I brought a food time table." He furrows his brows. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah."

"I will have to decline."

He takes the cup of water on the table. The air got tense and awkward. "Okay." I keep it, playing with my fingers.

"Make yourself comfortable, I'll excuse myself." He leaves me alone.

This is why we hate coming to the house. Utmost boredom on it's way.

I lean back on the chair, looking around the parlor. "What to do? What to do?" I mutter, shaking my legs.

*********

I contemplate whether I should just tour around the house or not. I look at the double stairs in front of me.

It has been almost two hours and I'm bored as hell. I could use some adrenaline rush.

I take a deep breath, I'll just sneak in and out shaps. He wouldn't even know.

I run through the stairs, looking around like a thief as I pulled out my phone so I could take photos.

Habiba needs to see this. I go to the right because it seems to have more parlors there, less chances for Qahhar to be there.

I was in awe of the interior deco and the architecture.

"Beautiful." I take pictures of it. "What is?"

"The painting, so beauti...." I stop when I realized Qahhar was behind me. I close my eyes, hesitating to look at him.

I had to so I turned, smiling sheepishly. "Um, the painting is great." I say trying to act casual.

"Yeah, it looks simple when you first look at it but it's deep and mesmerizing." He steps closer to the painting.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have barged in like this."

"Its alright. I told you to make yourself comfortable, it applies to this too." He crosses his arms, looking at the painting that was in front of him.

I stand there silent, speechless.

Vote

Follow

Comment