Wrong Suffered At Hands (Chapter Eighteen)

18.

 

A wail would break through her lips every time she experienced contractions in her stomach, the aching flowing from her back to her abdomen; the pain had been subtle for a few days but had become terrible with the passage of time.

She snarled as she heard the elderly woman scream yet again. She struggled for a minute to rise to her feet as her face twisted. She limped out of her room, feeling her joints throb and her eyesight becoming hazy with each step she set on the tiled floor.

She found Soraya lying on her bed with her face towards the wall when she arrived.

"This is my third time paying you a visit, but you haven't responded in any way."  She made an effort to appear serene despite the cold beads of sweat trickling down her temples.

The elderly woman did not say anything as she faced the wall in silence.

"Ami Jan, this is my final visit because you won't speak to me after summoning me here." Afiyah struggled not to raise her voice in response to the anguish in her head.

As she ambled back to her room, she bowed her head, thoroughly dejected.

Following Hareem's instructions, she paced back and forth. In order to make her labor quicker, she was urged to stroll. She paced in her room expecting Hareem would come and comfort her. Affan had a key to the home, so she remained in her room when the horn beeped. Even when she heard Hareem talking to Affan as they reached her room, she remained silent.

"Could you just hold on a bit longer?" While Affan went to visit his mother, Hareem questioned her as they were sitting on her bed.

"I suppose." She was genuinely trembling, her pupils were dilating, and she was sweating profusely.

"Could you walk a few more steps across the garden? You'll benefit."

The feeling of her throat and parched lips drying up caused her to swallow as she agreed. She walked the garden outdoors with Affan seated on the bench, and Hareem was at her side. She was aware that Affan was staring at her as she walked with her stomach clenched.

She came to a halt; her legs quivering from the sudden surge of pain that made her feel as though a bone had broken inside of her. Her legs surrendering and her knees collided with the ground as a wail oozed from her lips.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She cried, shrieking, mewling whenever she perceived the pain grow rapidly to her bones. The doctors seeping in one by one and checking on her, she was devastated wishing to get rid of the torment. When the doctor drew the curtain and the nurses encircled them, she knew Hareem wouldn't let go of her hand.

“It’s about time, gather the equipment.”

While she was writhing on the stretcher, she was able to hear the doctor. Her legs were being forced open, and hands were covering her entire lower body.

She was urged to push, so she did, using her willpower to carry out the action. With the force she exerted on it, her teeth would clatter, and she worried that she may crack them.

It was happening, “Almost there.” Hearing what the female doctor would say led her to believe that it will be delivered soon and in some way. But as the excruciating pain became lodged in one spot, her expectations were dashed, and she felt the doctor's handling of her come to a standstill.

"It's stuck!"

The moment she blinked open her eyes and watched the doctor reaching for something on the table, her pupils started to swell with tears.

"We must cut; the infant is trapped and at risk of dying! Cut!”

“Inject her.”

When she witnessed one of the nurses groping her wrist and inserting a needle into her veins from a massive syringe she had never seen before, she was unsure of what to do.

She felt herself getting sliced in the rush and the resulting stinging slit to her abdomen. Before entering the world of nods, she could gauge how severe the cut was.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was the burning sensation across her abdomen and the clammy feeling between her legs that bothered her. She whimpered, clenching her teeth and attempting to grasp the blistering patch, but a clasp on her wrist prevented her from doing so. She writhed in pain twice more before falling straight back to sleep.

The whispers, the faint whisper of exchanging conversation and she identified one voice as Soraya’s;

"-I also made sure to keep her in bed because we were intending on hiring a maid to help with the duties."

One hell of a liar.

She drew her head to meet the wall before drifting off to dreamland again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"The incision commonly heals in 12 days."

A female voice, a low meek voice which eventually became faint. Her hearing grew cold as she fell back asleep.

 

Before she could open her eyes, she was brought back to reality, and the first thing she saw was the ceiling's white hue. Her eyesight became hazy, so she clasped her eyes to assist her see the ceiling patterns vividly; the box-shaped white tiles came to the forefront.

She felt a grasp to her hand.

“Affan.” She muttered as she cocked her head to look at the person towering above her. When the stranger drew nearer, she squinted and realized it wasn't Affan.

"After marriage, sisters truly do betray you." Sameer said while planting a kiss on her temples, "Congratulations, my beloved, you gave birth to a daughter.”

She was comforted by the revelation, which was like lying in a pool of ice water after a scorching day in the desert.

“A flower. A lovely baby girl.”

“Can I see her, hold her? I beseech you.” Her voice was hoarse, and she felt a stinging sensation in the back of her throat.

“I’ll fetch her for you.” Sameer stroked her on the head and stepped away. She saw Hareem approaching her while holding a blanket that looked to be wrapped around something.

"Well done, Mother." As she rested the baby on Afiyah's chest, Hareem whispered.

The way she was positioned made it hard for her to see her baby's face. She was lying straight, unable to glimpse her daughter, and as she attempted to tilt her head to the front, she felt an overwhelming flow of agony to her lower area, which caused her to utter a faint hiss.

"Let me carry her." Afiyah tried to numb the anguish that suddenly overcame her by closing her eyes as Hareem grabbed a hold of the infant.

"I'll summon the nurse." After Sameer left, Afiyah turned to look at her infant in Hareem's arms, who was wrapped in a blanket.

Afiyah observed Hareem cradling her baby and was captivated by her motherly affection for the child, which made her smile.

She was completed now, she believed. Despite the comments she overheard from her mother-in-law, she had always desired for a daughter. She prayed all day long, asking Allah to provide her a healthy child while retaining her heart's wish regarding the baby's gender. But she was confident that Allah would pay attention to her heartfelt requests, which she never let go. She had been truly blessed.

The nurse arrived shortly after, putting an anesthetic into her before changing her clothing, which was a tough chore for Afiyah. The moment the nurse seeped her arms under her chest and attempted to make her sit, Afiyah’s breath was lodged.

The severe incision on her abdomen prevented her from heaving deeply or expelling, so she bit her lips as she attempted to take short breaths. She breathed quick and short and expelled in small bursts, taking a time to settle her breathing. She had to get her clothing changed since she reeked of perspiration and blood, her blood.

She was admonished to sit there as directed by the doctor. She was still unable to take deep breaths since doing so would cause her wound to feel as though salt were being poured on it.

"You may now see her."

She stole a quick glance at her baby for the first time, her eyes welling up with tears. She was beautiful, and her baby's first impression was the depth and roundness of her eyes. She was fair, and the light from the ceiling caught the fine strands of her golden locks.

Afiyah tried to encircle her daughter with one arm while supporting her weight with the stretcher. She studied her features; a tiny button nose, thick rosy lips, and a round face. Her chin resembled Afiyah’s and her nose seemed like Affan’s. She made a difficult attempt to tilt her neck and press her lips on the tender skin of her forehead while feeling a burning sensation on the incision.

"Love, life, desire; Zoya." She declared.

"Zoya Saeed?"

"Zoya Saeed."

 

 

 

 

When Afiyah first heard Soraya gripe about undergoing a cesarean, she was shaking the feeding bottle. Even though it had been two weeks since her operation, she still felt a dull discomfort around her incision, making it exceedingly uncomfortable for her to shake the feeding bottle.

"They assured me that it would be a regular case, and then all of a sudden, Hareem tells me that she is now being split in half."

Her choice of words made it arduous for her to swallow the remarks.

Afiyah managed to remain quiet as she rose to her feet, cradling the blubbering Zoya as she fed her the milk from the bottle.

"I gave birth to you at home alone, without any witnesses. I cried and stuffed my mouth with a cloth in order to muffle my cries. But in this case, just discarding the baby by slicing her up. The ease of labor and the payment they demand after surgery-“

“It was complicated.” She eventually spoke, attempting to make the elderly woman comprehend the situation, but her glare at Afiyah indicated she would never listen.

"How complicated was it? Had you passed away?"

"Let it go, Ami. She required surgery, and they took the action they believed to be best at the moment." In total exasperation, Affan remarked as he rubbed his knuckles against his eyes.

Afiyah was absolutely unable to even provide any clarification as her eyes darted back and forth between the woman and Affan.

"They engage in this activity in order to make money. These days' physicians simply slash the patient to increase their income."  The intensity of Soraya's tone caused Zoya, who was already weeping, to let out a cry.

Afiyah blew hushes as she fed her, cradling her around the room whereas the woman on the couch didn't bulge.

"Why even bother making a fuss about it? What occurred was intended to happen. And it's important that they're both doing well." When he described the dilemma to his mother, Afiyah glanced at Affan with trepidation.

While they were shooting the breeze, Afiyah was pacing with Zoya in between them and felt like a third wheel.

“Oh! So you've also been misled by her now?”

Afiyah came to a dead standstill as she paid attention to the old woman's remarks. She turned to face her in disbelief only to discover the aforementioned woman staring at her.

"What do you mean? She's completely unrelated to this in any way-"

"Now that my son is talking back to to me, what can I anticipate? Before your marriage, you never raised your voice at me. She brainwashes you after naming her daughter on her own and acting as though we are not related to her."

With the anxiety of wanting to explain everything, Afiyah could feel her fingertips growing numb and her chest constricting.

“Ami-“

"I shouldn't have listened to her. If it wasn't mentioned, I would not have considered you to be my son's wife. Only if I didn't get the idea from her to give you to my son."

She was less affected by the venom dripping from her voice than by the reality that was being highlighted in the statement.

It made her feel worthless, as if she were being imposed onto her mother-in-law; she was intimidated. 

She looked at Affan, who gazed back at her with inquiring eyes. She was standing there, holding Zoya in her arms, her legs wobbling. She was ejected out of the path and hurled at them; she realized now that she had been pushed onto them.

She left them in the room alone since she was handicapped to exhibit any emotion.