Converting the Bad Boy ✔

Chapter 25

Forgive me for the five day wait - I understand your pain, it's torturous waiting for an update, but here it is, as I promised! I might have put high expectations on myself for updates so in order for me to concentrate more on my studies (I'm doing six subjects, three of them being Physics, Bio and Chemistry, like Mariam ;) I will be updating weekly so every weekend, expect an update from me insha'allah.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this Chapter! Dedicated to Variousreads for her shared love of fouseytube (Salaaaam😎)

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Damian's POV

Mum was asleep when I entered, so she didn't see my initial horrified reaction to her lack of hair. Maybe it was better she didn't, because I knew how much my mum cared about her hair, like most women did. She cared about her hair more than I cared about mine, which was saying something, and now it was all gone. It had been gradually falling since she started the chemo, but only in small clumps that were barely noticeable. For the past few days, however, the hair on her head was shedding so much you could see patches of her scalp, and it wasn't just the hair on her head that shed - her arms and legs were also becoming hairless.

The nurses had said the chemo affected the hair follicles somehow, and it would take three to four weeks for hair to fall out. It had been over three to four weeks now, but it was still hard for me to see her like this - looking like those patients you see in movies who have cancer. Without hair, my mother was barely herself anymore.

As soon as I sat in the chair Mum's eyes opened, and she smiled at me. "Like my new look?"

I swallowed back the lump that was forming in my throat, and forced a smile, hoping she didn't notice that I was trying not to cry. No, Damian, don't you dare cry, not in front of Mum, I mentally slapped myself.

Mum rubbed her own hand over the smoothness of her newly shaven head, the wires of the drips rising with the movement. She was connected to so many drips, and she had a nasal cannula in to help her breathe. She let me try it once, but the nurse walked in on us and told me off. It was the purest oxygen I had ever breathed.

"I miss it already," she murmured melancholically, her blue eyes distant.

"Mum, you still look beautiful without it," I complimented her in a soft tone. I didn't know what it was about hospitals, but they made me want to lower my voice.

Mum beamed at me, lowering her hand slowly. Then her eyes brimmed with tears, and I ended up by her side, holding her in my arms.

"Oh, Damian," she sobbed, and I tried to hold her as gently as possible, because she was fragile, and I didn't want to suffocate her. There was this pain in my heart - some people thought I didn't have a heart, but here was proof of that - and it was only relieved when a tear slipped from my eye, and I wanted to curse myself for letting that happen, until I realized that it was okay. It was okay to cry, and Mum and I cried with each other for a little while, silently cherishing each other, cherishing life, until we had no more tears to cry.

I handed Mum a tissue which she used to wipe her cheeks, and I used the back of my sleeve to get rid of my tears. I had a right to cry, didn't I?

"I promised myself," Mum croaked, bundling up the tissue in her hands. "I promised myself I wouldn't cry in front of you. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," I assured her, clearing my throat. "It's good to cry."

As soon as the words left my lips, I started to believe them. And I think Mum did too, for her blue eyes filled up all over again, and she blinked them down. "I love you so much."