Secretly Married to my Professor

09| That's Not Curly Fries

Zahrah's POV

He arrived at the locker approximately an hour after the class finished. Did he seem to have waited for me, or he wants to be alone? I don't speak a word, and neither does he.

Everything about him: his unruly hair, his sinister glare, his attitude – all of it worked together to make me believe he was nothing like a professor.

I glanced up, then, and noticed Professor Florentino at my locker. I gasped audibly and stopped a few inches from my intended destination. It was clear that what I learned from my father will come in handy when I needed it.

"What?" I asked.

I immediately lower my gaze and feel a sudden wave of irritation as I recall how he spoke at me. He'd been such an ass. Now here he is, avoiding conversation and eye contact and all other normal human interactions.

"What do you mean, what?" Professor arched his eyebrow. "You think you own these lockers?"

"Well, this one in particular, yes." I pointed to my own.

"I believe it belongs to Stanford University School of Medicine." He challenged me.

"Whatever," I said in a tone that communicated that I wasn't in the mood.

He seemed to want to replace this Jess girl, although he says he doesn't get involved with a student, I think he lies, and I didn't want to find out.

"See you in class," I say as I left.

*****

Last week at the Quran lecture in the mosque, most discussions didn't revolve near the topic of what we were supposed to be discussing, which was Tafseer Surah An-Noor, which, by the way, I was looking forward too.

However, it was a contest of who had the most excellent grandchild(A bride candidate). Now I understood why my grandmother brought me there. It felt like she was selling a product, or I was in the bachelorette show for her future in-laws' grandchildren and children.

My granddaughter is studying at Stanford!

She is waay too smart!

She is going to be a doctor!

Whisperings and discussion were made as even the Ustatha didn't stop them. They grasped me with a myriad of questions. The most popular of those questions other than the cooking and cleaning, which felt to me like they were hiring a maid. "What is life like in medical school? Like, what does a normal week look like for you?"

I answered that my lectures were from 8 am to 3 pm from Monday to Friday, with the block of exams almost invariably land on Monday, and soon enough, I thought I lost most dream candidates. Ouch. 

Today Dr. Florentino is caring to answer a hypothetical patient. Unlike Mondays, Tuesdays, which is today, are considered day one of our weekly problem-based learning (PBL) case. I try not to think much about him as I am forced to meet him every lecture– about his green eyes, his strong jaw, his conversation with that Jess girl, or Safia's tears on his behalf – but it's unpleasant at times.