Wounded: Our Journey Home

Wounded- Chapter Twenty One

Edited:

Published:Tuesday, September 29, 2015 1:15 am

Ayah:
August 26th

Three days. It's been three days since the incident with Isabella and I'm still clueless and stubborn. I don't know what I want. Part of me wants to be pregnant, but the other is skeptical because of the situation I'm in. No part of what's going on with Jafar and I screams 'let's have a family.'

          And I'm not the only one who agrees.

         "Ayah, if you are pregnant, you can't keep this from your husband. No matter what kind of fight you're in, he needs to know, Habibti."

          I know Mama is right about telling him, but I don't think this is a situation you talk about out of the blue. I'm not even sure that I am pregnant, but my mood is different, I can't stand certain smells and certain monthly occurrences haven't happened in a while. Plus a sore throat and a stuffy nose, but I know nothing about these things.

          "I know that you're right, but I just can't. Not until I know for sure, not until I'm ready."

    She sighed on the other end, and I could hear her talking to someone, probably Aunt Suhaila.

        "Okay, Ayah. This is your life, but this is you and Jafar's issue. Find a way to put aside your problems and deal with the task at hand."

        All day I've been thinking about this. At work, on my break and when I went for a walk through the park. I guess I'm just scared. Scared of knowing, not knowing and dealing with this. But I need to act like an adult because I am one. I'm not a child who waits for others to help her, I need to figure this out on my own.

          As I walked into the Academy, the first this thing I'm met with is Taylor's frown. We haven't talked much--just the usual 'hi' and 'bye' and nothing else. She's a beautiful girl with red hair and brown eyes.

"Are you okay?" She's asked in concern. "You look a little pale."

"Just a minor sore throat," I assured her and went towards my desk. Everyone here in the office is working at their own pace. You have some students who are at a table reviewing their assignments for next week. It's the annual after summer writing contest.

I sat down at my desk, put my bag down and sighed deeply. But when I opened my eyes I internally groaned. There's a stack of paper the size of my thumb on my desk, followed by my phone ringing for future appointments with Liz. Great.

"Great, you're here," Liz acknowledged as she walked out of her office with a male student. I put the person on hold to focus on my boss. Her hair is in a fishtail braid to the side, and she has on a peach colored wrap dress with nude pumps and red lipstick. All in all, she looks stunning and scary at the same time.

"I need you to make at least fifty copies of each paper by next week. It's for all the students who make it to the final fifty of the writing contest."

"Okay, I'll get on it," I pursed my lips and got up to make the copies when Liz stopped me with narrowed eyes.

"Are you ill, Ayah? Because you look atrocious."

"I'm fine, just tired."

"Very well," She nodded and went back to her office.

-*-

Jafar:

          "So, we go to the studios now?"

The man in front of me shook his head and groaned. "I'm handling everything with the label. They're difficult, but I'm handling it."