A sequel to "Met by destiny." Could be read as stand alone.
"What is written in your destiny, will be yours. What belongs in your heart, will forever be yours."
M I N A H I L S I D D Q U E
A girl living in dreams and books, who's life is surroun...
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"What are we making today?" I ask settling down on the carpet, watching my husband arrange our stationary neatly on the floor.
He tears a paper from an old newspaper and places it next to the stack of colour papers, keeping his laptop in the middle, he points at it, "Mini flower bouquet."
I smile at the thumbnail of the YouTube video, "That looks so cute."
My husband nods, "Let's see who makes the prettiest one."
I pick one pink and red paper, "Hm, let's make it who makes the prettiest for the other one, I will make it for you, and you for me."
He nods, "I am going to win then."
I chuckle as he plays the video, "Let's see then."
I start following the instructions in the video with full concentration, I look at him and chuckle looking at his concentrated expressions as he folds the small petals with his thick fingers.
"Are you struggling?" I chuckle.
He scoffs, "Does it looks like it?"
"Absolutely not."
We continue making the roses, him failing multiple times, grumbling about the small roses and how his fingers can't cooperate with him.
"Did you talked with Mr. Ramazan?" I ask.
He shakes his head, not moving his eyes from the stem which he was carefully rolling in thin layer. "No, why?"
"About college opening?" I ask the obvious.
"No idea, but most probably by next Monday."
I sigh as the memories of two days ago filters my mind.
It was a small attack, but the blood, the guns, the rush of people, everything about it triggered a silent panic attack.
I didn't knew I was going through one until my husband rescued me from the man who pointed his gun at us and brought me outside in a small secluded area of the parking.
My hands and legs were shaking dangerously. It was all too same for me.
I thought after the trial, I was over it. I thought I could be finally free from the shackles of my past.
But traumas works in weird ways. Atleast that's what psychology book said which I picked up in the library last week.
You don't know what could trigger your reflex, it could as simple as a organoleptic response to an extreme trigger from the environment.
After the trial, I have been reading a lot of psychological books, trying to decipher my trauma related to my past. But none of them have the answers to my questions. I feel the need to talk it out, I do normally, to my husband mostly.
