Secretly Married to my Professor

18| Another Day as a Mental Case

Zahrah's POV

As soon as I lifted my head from the prayer mat, tears started flooding my eyes. The realization hits my heart, Allah is testing me; Ya Allah, you see me struggle day in day out. Ya Raab, Comfort my soul and heal what was broken inside me.

I pick my prayer mat up and place it inside my open bag. I exit the small room and go back to the waiting area. It's been two hours, and she isn't here yet. I glance to my right as I cast a smile, looking at a lady that just marched hurriedly inside.

"Finally," I whisper to myself.

I raised my eyebrow as I look at the rare sight in front of me. Her clothes are soaked. Her hair tangled in knots. Her eyes travel to me with purpose.

Ya Allah, this sucks.

She proceeds to speak loudly, "Sorry for being late, comes in!" as she stood in front of the door. I glance at her secretary, who seemed unbothered by her boss's appearance, as I nodded at her apology with a forced smile.

I look at the clock hitting 7 pm and sign – Baba won't be happy. Just like Cinderella, I have a curfew, but mine is at 8 pm. The only exception is that this is the therapist's office, which is mandatory in my case, but I still knew I would find his car parked outside, even though he is supposed to be working.

Dr. Yasmine smiles at me as she rests on her comfy sofa, "So how are you since the last time I sow you?"

I force a smile. I tell myself I need to indulge in this conversation so she won't write anything wrong that would prevent me from continuing to live in the outside world. Obstructing my new way of finding them as I held into the bag that contained everything I needed.

Dr. Yasmine takes it upon herself to make me a coffee. She also takes it upon herself to sit beside me instead of in front of me like usual and make me suffer through an idle conversation about how am I feeling and whether or not I am thinking of suicide, which was exciting to watch her do as it felt like an eternity until she got to that point. After everything she read in my file, that question isn't out of the world, but for me, it was. This wasn't my soul to take, and Mama Noura made sure to plant this concept in my mind as time passes and through seasons change; the idea of taking my life away seemed as crazy to me as flying in the air.

The more I chatted with her, the less aware I became of the conversation's main topic. Plus, I forgot about the fact that he came back to haunt me.

I look at the clock; it reached 9 pm. My phone keeps ringing, I presume, but I am not sure since my phone needed to be silenced during those meetings.

Baba is probably waiting outside in the car, partly drowsy. I want to leave, but she seemed bothered, and from her looks, I was intrigued to find out what drove her to that point. She gets up, reaches into her pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, and immediately lighting one up. I stare at her incredulously, and when she offers me one, I decline.

"Kind of an oxymoron, don't you think?" I ask humorously.