𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟒𝟏

ARZO

“Have you gotten any flashbacks of your past?”

I shake my head.

“Nightmares?”

Another shake of my head.

“The voice is the only thing I hear when I go to sleep. If I get any nightmares, I don’t remember them when I wake up.”

My therapist- doctor Zahra- hums and writes something down on her notes.

Doctor Zahra, a woman in her mid thirties, sits across from me on a sofa chair with a dupatta resting on her head, a pen in her hand and a notepad placed on her lap.

Doctor Zahra is a friend of ammi’s, therefore, my parents trusted her to be my therapist. She made it clear to them that she wouldn’t discuss anything with my parents that I didn’t want her to but will tell them what needed to be done.

She was very cooperative with me and it helped that she knew sign language so I could communicate easily.

After I admitted it to Faizan yesterday that I needed to find out who was behind this voice, I called doctor Zahra immediately and booked an appointment. Faizan came home early so we could go together even when I told he didn’t have to. But I’m glad he didn’t listen to me and came anyway.

Her office always brought a sense of safety and comfort when I was young, going through therapy. But that’s not the case right now. The room feels too small and suffocating. I'm aware of every tick of the clock, the sound of the air conditioner and my own heart beating against my chest.

My hands keep shaking no matter how much I force them not to. The fear of his voice hitting me is settled deep down in my chest and I can’t understand why.

The only thing keeping me seated in this chair is the thought that Faizan is outside and I can run into his arm to wash away this feeling.

I take another deep breath.

“When did you start hearing this.. Voice?” she asks, looking up from her notes after saying the last sentence.

“Three nights ago.” I sign, “my husband and I were at a business event and a waiter accidentally knocked a tray to my head. That was the first time.”

“I see,” she says, “the hit must have been the trigger, then.” she looks back down at my file, “from what I’ve read about your accident is that the most severe injury you had was on your head, causing your brain to forget about the incident all together in order to protect you.” she pauses, “however…” she looks back up, her words clear, “it seems your brain wants to regain those memories.”

“Why?”

“Maybe it’s something you want as well. Maybe you always wanted to know the reason why you are unable to speak.”

I stay quiet. She is right. I did want to know the reason for my incident and what led my brain to not allow me to speak. But I don’t want to know anymore. If this voice is any indication then I don’t want to unravel the past.

“Isn’t there a way for this voice to disappear all together?” I ask.

“I’m afraid not. I think it’s better if you allow your brain to remember the incident. A part of you wants to know while the other won’t allow it.”

When I still don’t say anything she continues, “there may be other ways to forget about the incident all together but it will include medication and I don’t always recommend it.” she says, “How about you think about it, hm? Try to figure out what you actually want, even if it takes days.” she gives me a small warm smile.

I nod, “okay, thank you,” I say just when our time finishes.

As soon as I step out of her office, Faizan stands up from his seat where he has been waiting.

“What happened?” he asks, softly as I reach him.

I shake my head and wrap my arms around his waist, burying my face into his warmth. His arms wrap around my middle and he places a kiss on my head.

I release a shaky breath and start reciting Ayat-ul-Kursi to calm down my heart. His arms wrapped around my middle bringing a sense of safety.

I pull away after a while and look up at him.

“You okay?” he asks, caressing my cheeks.

I nod.

“Ready to go home?”

Another nod.

He interlocks our fingers together and we start to leave the building.

As soon we exit the building, my feet come to a halt when I spot a familiar face walking towards the building.

Shoaib.

He doesn’t spot us until he steps on the last stair and goes still.

I squeeze Faizan’s hand gently and he returns the gesture.

I expect Shoaib to say something. Throw an insult at me but he doesn’t. He just stares at us with a different look in his eyes.

Guilt.

Without saying a word, he looks down and passes by us into the building. I look back without wanting to but he has already disappeared into one of the hallways.

I frown to myself, confused by the look I saw in him but don’t say anything.

The car ride home is spent in silence but not the kind I have started to experience when I’m alone. The silence is comfortable and I know why, because Faizan holds my hand through the ride. The warmth from his touch buries down that voice.

After we reach home, we fresh up and offer Salah before we lay on the bed. His arms around me, his fingers playing with my hair. My head resting on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat in my ear, hands tucked between us as I stare into the distance.

“Amar..” he speaks, softly, his fingers still lost in my hair, “if you don’t want to do it… we’ll find another way.”

I lift my head and lock my eyes with him.

“I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to.” he says, quietly. His eyes searching mine, “I’ll do anything to make that voice go away, to make you comfortable, to make you happy. Anything except lose you.”

His eyes contain the same hint of fear I see when I take too long to answer him or when I wake up numb, not aware of my surroundings.

I place my hand on his face, caressing his cheekbones as I lean in and kiss him softly. He returns the kiss, his arm pulling me closer till our bodies collide with each other.

His touch, his kiss, his warmth, his soothing voice scares the voice in my head away. And I know if I asked, he would stay with me, holding my hand no matter how long it would take. He would fight my demons if I asked him.

But I can’t let him fight my battles.