Like Chalk And Cheese [Completed]

Dear Diary (II)

My life is not happy anymore. I am doomed for good. These are dark, dark days that are never going to end any time soon by the looks of it. Oh God, oh God, what did I get myself into. I wanna die. I do. And it's all because of him. I hate him. I hate Hasan, note that, dear diary, I hate him to the core of my being. He did this to me.

---

I shouldn't have written what I did up there. Actually, scratch that, I have all the right to write whatever I want in my personal diary. It's him who should have had enough decency to not snoop into someone's privacy. That bastard. He got hold of it from his bedside table and instead of shutting it and handing it over to me like a true gentleman would, he turned it over and read the page it was opened up to.

"You hate me to the core of my being?" I heard him say and that's how I knew he'd breached my privacy. Until then, I'd been sitting on the bed with arms curled around my knees and head resting on top of them, trying to beat the nausea away. My head whipped up at his voice and eyes widened in horror at the sight of him holding my diary and regarding me with a demanding look.

Wow, look at that handsome description. I can confidently say that I could be a writer. That's one of the changes studying literature brings in you, right. It gives you all the reasons why you can be a world renowned author someday, doesn't it? Oh dear God, my studies, whatever is going to become of it. I'm going to fail every semester, Allah!

Okay, I'm side tracking.

Realising too that it was certainly too late to jump at him and yank my diary from his hands and also I was feeling nauseous aa I mentioned earlier anyway, I kept sitting and averted my gaze, murmuring in a bad-tempered way.

"I do. Because you did this to me."

"And exactly what is it that I did?" He said, putting the diary back on the side table and coming over towards me.

"You know what you did."

"No, Warda. It happened." He pronounced. "I didn't do it, and we've been through this a hundred times. It's your fourth month now, you need to stop saying that and accept the fact that you are bearing a child and it can't be undone."

I looked up at him who'd stopped a short distance away, hands shoved in the pockets of his pants. Hot tears pricked my eyes. "Every day I feel worse than the day before. I wasn't ready, Hasan."

He let out an exasperated sigh and my face scrunched in displeasure directed at him even more. But his tone softened when he said as he came forward and sat down on the bed in front of me.

"You think I don't already know that? I had been doing what was in my power to prevent it for a year, hadn't I? If it happened despite that, it means it had to, doesn't it? It's a gift, cherry, and you can't be ungrateful for a gift."

I looked down, mumbling what I knew was wrong to voice. "I didn't ask for it."

"Don't say that, Warda. You didn't ask for a lot of things and you still have them, don't you?" He took my hand and added gently. "And I'm here with you every step of it—"

My eyes instantly snapped up to meet his, indignant at his false statement. "No, you're not. You're not there at the university, you're not home all afternoon and all evening. How can you say—"

"God!" he exclaimed, irritation seeping into his voice, "I can't bloody sit home for you, I have to bloody work! But despite that when I come back tired as fuck, I take care of your needs. I do whatever you ask me to do. What else do you want?"

He was getting worked up. Although instead of calming me down to let it go, it heated me up even more. "I'm just saying that it's not in the least equivalent to what I go through, it's not the same as—"