Coming Home (English Version)

42. Survive

Layla

"In a minute!" I yell while seated on the toilet.

I could swear this is the thousandth time I've had to pee today. My growing baby is putting some pressure on my bladder, making it the size of an egg, apparently. It's really annoying having to run to the bathroom every half an hour but I prefer that over the morning sickness and fatigue.

I blow air out through my mouth and remain seated with my underwear down to my ankles, reflecting on what just happened. All I wanted was a simple social media post to let people know that we're expecting and avoid awkward stares and questions during public appearances. But now, Hamdan's father is sick and my pregnancy suddenly became an act to keep people entertained. I don't know how Hamdan does it, how anyone in the family actively working for the government does it. I think I'm starting to comprehend why Latifa chose to stop working all together once she became pregnant. I get that we are public servants but this is my personal life that they keep using for whenever they see fit.

I clean myself and pull my underwear up to go wash my hands. When I open the door, he's waiting on the other side and looks at me with puppy eyes, topped with those long lashes of his. I have been jealous of his eyelashes for as long as I can remember.

"Do not look at me like that." I warn, walking past him.

"Layla."

I spin around. "And do not Layla me! Are we some sort of poster couple now?"

He tilts his head to the side and bites his lower lip.

"This is unbelievable!" I yell. "They didn't even want us to be together in the first place! We had to leave the country not knowing if we were ever going to come back! But now, sure let us use your wedding and your baby to show people what a perfectly happy family we are!"

"You wanted to post the picture anyway!" He lifts his shoulders. "Mansoor was the one that suggested it and I was against it, but now I'm thinking... why not? It's convenient."

I squint my eyes at him. "I'll tell you what is also convenient!"

As I'm about to gasp for air to continue with this argument, a sudden move inside me makes me freeze. I stand very still with my mouth still open. Was that my stomach protesting out of hunger?

"Are you okay?" Hamdan worries.

There it is again! And it's definitely not my stomach.

I open my eyes wide and both of my hands land down on my belly. "I think he's kicking!"

"Seriously?" Hamdan takes two steps forward and his palms start wandering around my midsection.

I look down to talk to the baby. "Aw, do you like it when I yell at daddy?"

"Perhaps it's his way of actually asking you to stop yelling at daddy." He suggests.

I glare at him and he pushes his lips together to suppress a smile from forming. Still, I take his hands and guide them to where I felt the kicks.

"It was right here," I tell him.

"Come on, little guy," the future father whispers.

One of my hands comes up to scratch the back of his head. "I don't want to be mad at you, I don't want to fight, not now while I'm pregnant and your dad is ill."

"I don't want to fight either," he replies, still waiting for the baby to move with his hands not leaving my body. "And I don't want you to feel like you're being used but we've talked about this before and you know it comes with the job."