The Marriage Demands (#Wattys2017)

CHAPTER 5

Sighing I entered my apartment. Today was exceptionally tiring at the hospital.

Wait, no I'm home now. Now I will rest. I think spending eighteen hours in the hospital; five days a week is enough to tire anyone.

I practically threw my bag on a couch in the living and darted with high speed in the shower. Nothing can beat exhaustion then a cold shower to renew the senses.

Stripping and throwing my clothes in the air, I jumped into the cascading shower.

"Ahh," I exclaimed in glee. The knots in my back opening and letting sweet relief wash over me. After washing up, I wrapped myself in a large towel, I stared at my reflection. I look horrible with large grey bags under my eyes and my skin dull and dry. Even the shower couldn't wash away my plain features. Or maybe I'm only thinking this way since a ceratin pair of dazzling blue eyes have been stuck in my head since yesterday. and headed inside my bedroom. Switching on the lights, I made my way to my laptop. Checking for any new updates, I decided to call it a night. Just as I was about to get into bed, my cell phone began to ring. Groaning, I picked it up. The call was from an unknown number. I think I know who it's from.

"Hello, Dr. Amber Zaid speaking,"

'Uh, ah yes hello, this is Zakriya Islam speaking," came a timid reply. My assumption was correct. All of a sudden, my heart started to race. Why is my heart racing? This is weird. Ignoring my fluttering heart, I tried to focus on the call.

"Yes, how may I help you, Mr. Islam?" I spoke formally.

"Zac is fine," he spoke, his voice deep and clear. It only made my heart race faster and what's more, even my hands were shaking. What's going on? Am I nervous? I haven't been this nervous since my first surgery.

Anyway, focus, focus Amber. You're an adult for God's sake; when did you start having these sorts of strange reactions towards the opposite sex? Even after performing so many vasectomies, why are you feeling like a teenager?

"I wanted to ask if I could meet with you tomorrow?" he inquired. That's very sudden. Did he come to a decision already?

"Alright. Although I have a very busy schedule tomorrow but I can meet with you. Can you come to Mount Sinai hospital?"

"Yeah, I have no problem." He replied, his voice deep and husky. I liked that.

"Alright then. I can meet with you at 3 a.m."

"Sounds perfect. I'll be there. See you there. Take care. Bye."

"Alright," I replied dryly and hung up. And to my surprise, my heart was racing still and my hands were still shaking. Maybe, it's a sign of my intuition. Maybe he's going to reject the marriage proposal.

If that's the case, then I should be happy. I mean, there is no way that a man like that, you is so good looking—what with his sandy blond hair and clear blue eyes and light brownish-blond beard could ever look good standing with a plain jae like me.

Anyways, that isn't the issue. The gap in our age is too much. How will I live in the typical parochial society of Pakistan if they ever came to know that my husband is younger then me?

However, for some reason, even if he does reject the proposal, why do I feel so disappointed and dejected? I should be glad, shouldn't I?

Yawning, I jumped into bed.

"Ah, who cares? I don't like him anyways." I said to myself and snuggled into my pillow. Tomorrow is going to be a very long day.

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