18. 𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙢𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙄 𝙥𝙧𝙖𝙮?

"Asalamu alaykum warahmatullah, Assalamu alaykum warahmatullah"

Completing his prayer, he turned first to the right and then to the left, each movement marked by a fluidity from the years of doing so. Even in this simple act, his side profile was so attractive, revealing the sculpted contours of his face. The play of light accentuated the lines and angles of his face, making him look ethereal.

The early morning breeze blew into the window of the prayer room. Abia yawning on the right of me on the pillows as she stretched. Such a lazy cat.

Hassan turned to face me on his prayer mat as I joined him in performing the duas and dhikr after Salah.

I couldn't pray with him because I was on my monthly break and women are not allowed to pray, hold the Quran or fast during this time. But you can do other acts of worship apart from that.

When he was done, Hassan walked over to where I was and placed his hand on my stomach as he rubbed it gently as he asked softly,

"Do you need anything? Heating pad? Chocolate? Another pillow?"

I blushed as I shook my head no.

I felt awkward about being on my period. Yes I know it's normal but that's just how I was. And hassan was so open about it which is something I definitely am not used to. When I would send abubakr to the grocery store sometimes for what I needed during this time, he would look so uncomfortable. So I assumed all males would be. Not hassan though.

I found out I got my period when I had gone to perform ablution in the toilet. After I took care of myself I had gingerly walked back into the room and sat there on the bed in silence as I overthought about how I would tell him that I would not be joining him for a week.

Hassan walked into the room closing the buttons on the sleeves of his white abaya, hair slicked back by water as he stared at me in confusion and asking why I wasn't dressed yet.

"Go ahead" I said, already feeling embarrassed.

He looked lost as he stared at me as if I had grown a beard .

"But we always pray together. Why don't you wanna pray with me, sweetheart ?" He asked, his voice turning sad.

"I would if I could, babe" I responded quickly as I screamed internally at myself to just say the words. But I couldn't. It just wouldn't come out.

Hassan stood frozen for a moment, his gaze fixed on me, a bewildered expression etched across his face. Then, as if a realization dawned upon him, his features eased into a more relaxed demeanor, and a soft, amused chuckle escaped from his lips. I watched as he murmured some words to himself as he crossed the room to reach me.

As he walked over I couldn't help noticing how handsome my husband was. His soft waves of dark chocolate hair gently swayed. I found myself once again captivated by his deep green eyes as they pulled me in. His Luscious eyelashes framing those eyes. His face, to me, really was like a masterpiece, defined by his unfairly high and chiseled cheekbones. His slightly darker olive skin tone standing out with his attire.

"Wanna come keep me company while I pray?" He asked me with a soft smile.

I gave a shy nod as I took his outstretched hand as he led me to the prayer room.

"Darling, there's nothing for you to feel embarrassed about. It's perfectly normal. I'm your husband , and that means having some uncomfortable conversations. We can't avoid them. Okay?" he asked, his gaze focused on me, waiting for my response.

"Yeah, I get it," I replied, letting out a small groan.

"Now, tell me what you need," he jokingly demanded, his fingers gently running through my hair.

"I wouldn't mind some cookie dough ice cream," I mumbled sheepishly, eliciting a hearty laugh from him. Rising from his seat, he gestured for me to wait, and left the room, Abia trailing behind him.

With a playful grin, Hassan returned, holding a tub of cookie dough ice cream. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he handed it to me, and we sat together and I fed both of us.

Eating ice cream this early might give me a cold, but let's be honest—it's Hassan's fault. He's my enabler, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

~

I carefully pinned my hijab down as i stood in front of the mirror to get ready for the appointment Hassan has at the hospital.

It's been a few days since I found out the truth about hassan and we've been taking things slowly but I managed to convince him to start going to therapy. We booked a session with an experienced psychiatrist and today is the first appointment. And if Hassan likes it then we will make it regular. I want Hassan to get all the help he needs. The sooner we tackle this, the better. InshaaAllah.

As I rubbed off a mysterious smudge on my abaya, a sudden warmth enveloped my waist, and I looked up in surprise to see Hassan through the mirror's reflection. His hand snaked around me, and he nuzzled his face into my neck. "Do we have to go?" he whined, his grip on my waist tightening.

"Yes, Hassan, we do. I'll be there with you every step of the way," I reassured him, my hands covering his. He groaned into my neck, standing straight, turning me to face him. "I love you," he said tenderly.

"I love you more, baby," I responded, already anticipating his reaction. His face turned a light pink, and a small grin spread across it as he laid his head on my right shoulder. I laughed, giving him a kiss on the side of his head. "Let's go; we don't want to be late."

We walked out of the house and started our drive to the hospital. The car was driven smoothly through the streets, the soft hum of the engine providing a comforting backdrop to our journey.The soft melodious recitation of the Qur'an on his playlist played as a subtle companion.

The car slowed down and parked in front of the building. "Ready?" I asked Hassan as he turned off the car, looking as handsome as ever in his cream thobe, matching my black abaya and cream double-layered khimar. I gushed internally over how cute we looked together.

"As ready as I could be," he said nervously with a shaky smile. "Hey hey, it's going to be okay; we got this," I replied, taking his hand in mine and giving him an encouraging squeeze.

Hassan glanced around, ensuring the coast was clear. He lifted my niqab, held my face in his hands, and gently gave me a kiss on the forehead and on the lips. Holding hands, we entered the main entrance of the clinic, greeted by air-conditioned air and the smell of disinfectant. Nurses and doctors rushed up and down the large hallway, a normal scene in a hospital.

We approached an indian lady with a gray hijab at her cluttered desk. Exhaustion lingered in her eyes, a testament to the dedication of hospital staff. "Hello, how may I be of assistance?" she asked politely with a slight accent.

"Hello, we have an appointment with Dr. Moore for today under the name Hassan Musa at 12 pm," I responded with a friendly tone. She clicked some keys, searching through her computer screen, then looked up with a smile.

"Yes, that is correct. If you would please sit and wait while I ring up Dr. Moore, please." We thanked her with a smile, making our way to the waiting chairs, hands clasped together.

"Some day we might find ourselves here for a different reason," Hassan remarked with a smirk after a few minutes. I gazed at him in puzzlement until his eyes flickered towards a passing man with a toddler, and it dawned on me what he meant.

I gasped and hit his chest softly in shock and embarrassment and started giggling while he laughed in the semi quiet hospital hallway while I tried to keep him quiet as some people gave us looks.

This man I swear.

~

A somber mood set in the air, a complete contrast to how we were in the hallway thirty minutes ago.

The nurse led Hassan and me through the corridors to the therapist's office. The door swung open, revealing a warm, inviting space. Dr. Moore stood with a welcoming smile, his office exuding a sense of comfort and professionalism.

Doctor Moore was a tall bald African American man clad in a white buttoned up office shirt with dark green slacks completed with a doctor's coat.

The room was adorned with calming hues, and the sunlight filtering through the blinds added a touch of serenity. A bookshelf filled with medical journals and literature stood against one wall, a testament to Dr. Moore's expertise. The desk, neatly organized, showcased a blend of modern and traditional elements.

"Welcome, Halimah and Hassan. I'm Dr. Moore," he said with a warm smile, extending his hand to Hassan in a gesture of hospitality. "Make yourselves comfortable. We're here to navigate this journey together." The room echoed with his deep voice.

Dr. Moore gestured for us to take a seat, settling into his own chair with a reassuring demeanor. "Let's begin," he said, his gaze shifting between Hassan and me. The room seemed to embrace a quiet anticipation as we began.

"Feel free to share your thoughts, and we'll work through this together."

Hassan took a deep breath, breaking the initial silence. "I guess... I've been feeling this weight, Doc," he began, "It's like this cloud hanging over me, and I can't shake it off. Halimah has been my anchor, but there are moments where it's just too much to deal with" His words, laden with a mix of frustration and yearning, set the tone for the conversation.

Dr. Moore listened attentively, "It's brave of you to share that, Hassan," he responded with a gentle nod. "Acknowledging these feelings is a crucial step. Let's explore them together and work towards finding a way to alleviate that weight. Halimah, feel free to share your insights as well. This is a safe space for both of you."

And we had our therapy session. We broke down. We laughed. But most importantly hassan let it all out. I thought it would take multiple sessions for him to do so but I guess he had been holding it in for so long that it just came pouring out once he started talking.

Doctor Moore, was attentive and made it seem like a discussion rather than making hassan feel like he was being interviewed as most people do. He created a safe haven and I was glad we made the decision to book him. Safe to say , we would be regulars.

The session lasted for an hour and half. And as we said our farewells and left the hospital. We walked back out feeling much lighter than we came in.

This would not be an easy ride. But we are gonna hold on tight and make it through. There simply isn't any other option.

~

Love this relationship 😭.

Double update! Wrote this in like three hours.

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