Our Stormy Ride

*49 °Through Pain and Grief

Nadia

The navy blue abaya slips down my body in one fluid motion, the thick silky material smooth against my skin. As usual, it distorts my figure by making me look bigger than I am, perfectly hiding away a body that's been through so much.

And to think that this same body is carrying a child.

I try not to glance down at my stomach often, even though it's getting to the point where I can't ignore the fact that I'm pregnant. At 10 weeks, my baby bump is already bigger than usual, and my last sonogram had given us another bit of surprise; the lab technician had pointed out more than one fetus.

It hadn't been an easy task for Jamal to calm me down at the hospital that day. I'd cried out of anxiety and fear after hearing the news.

The last few weeks after waking up at the hospital haven't been the best so far. One moment I'd been in the middle of a shoot-out, and the next, I'd woken up in a hospital with Jamal beside me. Nothing had prepared me for the reality I had to face. First the pregnancy, then the death of Muneerah.

It's like being hit with one trial after another, each carving out a piece of my heart, leaving me empty and lost.

My life has become a rollercoaster, a ride I never thought I'd experience, and one that has me feeling like a stranger to everyone around me, and even to myself. It's like I have to get used to the life I lived before, forcing myself to feel comfortable around the people I love.

Once I'd known what it was like to feel safe, and now I realize how much of a luxury that feeling was when it's been stripped away from me. I'm constantly on edge and paranoid, jumping at every noise and harmless shadow. It's as if my brain is stuck in flight mode, seeking out threats that do not exist.

With each passing day, I live with the fear of something disastrous about to happen, and it heightens my anxiety to no ends.

Releasing a sigh, I tug down the sleeves of the abaya to cover my wrists, hiding away the ugly scars that now mar my skin. I stop myself from touching the jagged lines as my emotions start to act up. They're the trophies I have to live with, reminders of the horrors I wish I could erase from my memory.

I draw a khimar over myself and step out of the walk-in closet, then take out my car keys from the bedside table. The digital album standing beside the lamp catches my attention, and I pick it up, staring at the pictures as they fade in and out.

My smile blooms in every single picture, capturing moments that were radiant and full of joy. Those days have been replaced by only darkness and grim memories of pain, making everything else seem like a far fetched fantasy.

The bedroom door opens and Jamal walks in, his eyes immediately seeking me out. I quickly return the album back to its place, though the action doesn't get past him. His gaze lingers on it, his expression turning wistful. I can tell he's remembering the days when I used to smile like that, and not the mess I've become now.

"Are you going somewhere?" He asks, taking in my attire.

"To see Yoona," I reply, bracing myself for an argument.

Jamal's brows furrow as he stares at me. "I thought we talked about this, visiting her is only going to stress you out, Nadia."

I clear my throat, hating the way my voice sounds nowadays whenever I'm getting worked up.
"I don't remember us talking, because you decided that on your own. If you won't take me to her, then I'll go myself."

Curling my fingers around the key chain, I walk towards the door and just when I'm about to reach it, Jamal steps across my path. He leans against the frame and crosses his arms, his body taking up most of the space.