After The Honeymoon

Prologue

Thanks for reading this last book in the medical romance series. While the initial part will have some mention of the pandemic, I do plan to phase it out soon and go back to pretending that the world is a normal place! 

Salman 

Flashback to September 2019

"You know how I feel about your parents. But if you still want to go, I am not going to stop you," she said when I received a call that my father had a possible heart attack and was being rushed to the ER in Kentucky. 

She coughed a couple of times, but I ignored it. Everyone coughs every once in a while after all. Instead, I continue to stuff a few of my clothes and personal essentials into a backpack.

"You always do this, Noor," I shook my head. Her objection to my parents was nothing new. "How would you feel if I asked you not to go to your parents if one of them fell ill?"

The sorrow in her voice was unmistakable when she quietly said, "My parents did not leave scars on me," before leaving the room.

Maybe she coughed again, or maybe my ears were ringing. But my sister called just then, my mother was worried sick, the car needed gas, there was a 5 hour drive ahead of me. A simple cough wasn't enough of a reason for me to stop and check in on my wife. 

She is just overreacting, she'll be fine by the time I get back, I reassured myself and walked out. 

Five minutes later I was in the car and heading towards the I-90 highway on my way to the city my parents lived in. For a moment I had regretted leaving without properly saying goodbye to my wife or apologizing for snapping at her. But then I had put it out of my mind. 

After all, I was only going for 2 days. Before she knew it, I would be back in Chicago. I even smiled thinking of ways I could make it up to my 7-month pregnant wife: give her a back rub, fulfill her late might cravings for tacos, pamper her as she complained to me about her swollen ankles. 

Those 2 days were supposed to be inconsequential.

They were anything but. 

*******

September 2020

"Slow down Salman," Dr Wheeler, my psychiatrist, said in a firm voice through the computer screen. "Take a deep breath and tell me again what you feel when you are near your wife."

This is not working out, my fists clenched in frustration. How was I supposed to open up to a computer? Though I couldn't go on like this either. I desperately needed help. So I closed my eyes and followed Dr Wheeler's instructions. 

"I feel like..." I let out a slow breath. "I am going to kill her, if I breathe near her."

"Kill her how?"

"By giving her COVID."

I opened my eyes and looked at my computer screen. Dr Wheeler was chewing on the end of a pen, but I had no idea what she was thinking. Telemedicine had sounded like a great option, till I realized how difficult it was to follow a person's physical cues on a screen. Yet, I had no choice. This had been the only appointment I had managed to get in months.  

"Salman, as a physician you do realize that in order for you to give her COVID you would have to catch it first?"

"I don't give a shit about myself..." I snapped, but then stopped when I remembered Noor asking me to watch my language now that I was a father. An absolutely useless father, that is.