Mrs Mahmud, Mrs Mas'ood

59

Ramadan began in the middle of March. Mahmud knew by then that there was something going on with Hauwa. It frustrated him that there was never a good opportunity to bring it up so they could talk about it.

He was busier than ever; more surgeries across the three hospitals he was now a part of (a full time employee at Nizamiye and part time at National Hospital and Nisa Premier), calls, ward rounds and then private sessions with a few special care patients.

They missed themselves; he was out of the house on most days before she was awake and by the time he got back, she was out or she was fast asleep. If they had matching free time, they made up for the moments they lost with movies, books and Qur'an sessions. In those moments, Mahmud loved the happiness she radiated and he always felt guilty about ruining it so he pushed the discussion back until another opportunity presented itself. It never did.

In the first week of April, Suraiya went into early labour and it took her nearly six hours to bring her and Ahmed's baby girl to the world. Each one of them was ecstatic and they spoiled mother and daughter rotten; a norm for them. On the last day of the holy month, the Dantatas invited everyone to their house in Garki 2 for Iftar.

As usual, Mahmud got ready before Hauwa did. Instead of waiting for her in the family longue, he stayed in the room and watched her get ready. Her abaya was a lovely shade of emerald and it suited her perfectly. Her hair was in cornrows and she covered it with a nude veil, throwing the longer end over her left shoulder. For shoes, she opted for nude flats and then she grabbed one of her go-to clutches.

With one last glance at the mirror, she turned and smiled at him. "How do I look?"

His smile was half sincere. "Like the most beautiful woman on earth."

She laughed. "You've gotten better at your replies."

"It's a naked truth, Hauwa."

Her smile dimmed and he noticed. She nodded. "Naked truth...Let's go?"

He shook his head and opened up his arms. With a more sincere smile, she stepped between his legs and out of habit, weaved her fingers through his back hair while he wrapped his arms loosely around her middle. Her eyes met his and he saw the worry there.

Her voice was soft. "Are you okay, Qalb? Like are you really, really okay? This Ramadan has been stressful for you with the surgeries and all."

"I'll be fine In Shaa Allah...I was thinking of pulling away from National Hospital."

She blinked in surprise. "Are you serious? Why?"

"It's nice to have the extra source of income but I'm stretched thin. That's the one place I don't like. My team isn't so easy to work with."

Her expression softened. "Why didn't you say anything, Qalb?"

"I didn't want you to worry."

"Well I'm definitely worried now."

He decided to throw her question back at her then. "Are you okay, Hauwa? Like are you really, really okay?"

The way she became so guarded was a knife aimed straight at his heart. She broke eye contract and fastened her gaze on her hand which gently patted his hair in place. Her laugh was too breathy.

"Of course I'm okay. Why won't I be? I'm living the best life I could ask for." Her eyes came back to his. "I'm okay."

Mahmud wanted to scream at her, to tell her that he needed her to be completely honest with him so they could face whatever was wrong instead of dancing around it the way they were doing. However he wasn't brought up that way and he knew screaming or forcing a conversation when the other person wasn't ready wouldn't get them anywhere. If anything, it'll ruin what they had.