Bonus Chapter #2

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Dedicated to haticereyhan for giving me the idea for this chapter. I don't know why I didn't think of it before! 😂 Anyway, enjoy 😉

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[September 2024]

Damian's POV

Being married had taught me two things - 

One, it was like a continuous cycle of flirting and fighting - mostly flirting on my part. And two, you got to see the good, the bad and the ugly of your partner. I had no problem with seeing Mariam's ugly side - it was kind of hilarious, actually - but nothing, and I mean NOTHING could prepare you for the ugliness witnessed when your wife was in labour. Absolutely nothing. Unless you'd somehow survived the first time.

I'd survived. And now I was ready for the sequel.

Ready? Ha, more like, "already?!"

"You can do this, Mariam. If you did it before, you can do it again, In Sha Allah," these were my words of encouragement to her as she lay back in the bed with a grimace on her sweaty face, the machine beside the bed monitoring the contractions. "Think of it like a rehearsal for the big show."

"Rehearsal? Are you calling our first child a rehearsal? God, Damian, that's seriously messed up." I forgot how easily irritated Mariam got while in labour. Everything I said pissed her off. But then again, that was most days.

"Okay, forget I said that. Bad example. I'm just saying, you got this, habibti, just breathe," I kissed her hand, gripping it in mine, and Mariam shot me a wince that I interpreted to be a smile. I was about to smile back when I felt a constricting squeeze tighten around my hand and I cried out in pain as Mariam groaned.

"Why do you always do that? I don't need to be in pain too!" I pulled my poor hand away, examining the crescent shaped dents that her nails had caused.

"You have every right to suffer just as much as I do, Damian! Stop being such a baby," Mariam was breathing hard now, and the peaks on the machine were getting higher and more frequent. I was no doctor but I had a feeling that meant the contractions were becoming closer together.

"Should I call the nurse?" I asked as Mariam shut her eyes, grasping the sheets of the hospital bed, but my question wasn't necessary as a few seconds later, a nurse walked, took one look at the machine and said, "She's almost ready."

"Wait, what? But I'm not ready," I whined, just as Mariam let out a loud shriek, and the nurse gave me a sympathetic smile.

"You never are on the first go," she said.

"It's our second, actually," I corrected, and she frowned.

"In that case, stop whining and man up! Your wife's going into the delivery room soon." The nurse's words shook me up a bit, and I was stunned for a moment, until a pang of pain shot up my arm and I looked down to see Mariam's fingers curled around my forearm.

"What did I tell you about doing that?" I complained.

"No pain, no gain, mate," Mariam growled, and I couldn't help letting out a laugh. "You wouldn't be laughing if you felt what I was feeling."

I stopped laughing immediately and nodded. "You're right, I'm sorry." I was about to reach out and touch her cheek when she screeched, "Don't touch me!" and I reeled back, a little startled, but then I became confused when she mumbled, "Hold me, habibi, it hurts."

As I held her, I made du'aa to make it easy for her and murmured Qasida Burda, which was one of my favourite nasheeds that I had learnt by heart, because it was so beautiful. This seemed to calm Mariam down a bit but every so often she would moan or whimper in discomfort. Alhamdulillah she was strong enough not to need an epidural or other drugs that would ease her pain but make her semi-conscious during the birth.

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