Fahima Begum sat in front of her bedside mirror unable to concentrate as she struggled to fix her hijab properly. Lately her mind had been plagued by doubts and sinful thoughts that no married Pakistani woman should have, and yet there they were. Fahima had been married to her husband, Ali, for 15 years now, whilst it was a good marriage it was missing something. In 15 years of marriage, Fahima and Ali had not been able to conceive a child. They had visited many different doctors to find out why and they all confirmed, what Fahima knew deep down, that Ali had an extremely low sperm count.
The news shattered both of them and completely broke Ali. Fahima did her best to comfort him, assuring him that she held nothing against him and trying to explain how she loved him even more.
"It's Allah's will, my jaan, there is very little we can do. We can try for adoption," she said to him mustering all the enthusiasm and faith she could.
"Maybe," he replied in a flat tone. You could hear how shattered his heart was by the waver in his voice.
"Nothing is going to change, my jaan, but at least we still have each other," Fahima said with a small smile.
The news shattered both of them and completely broke Ali. Fahima did her best to comfort him, assuring him that she held nothing against him and trying to explain how she loved him even more.
"It's Allah's will, my jaan, there is very little we can do. We can try for adoption," she said to him mustering all the enthusiasm and faith she could.
"Maybe," he replied in a flat tone. You could hear how shattered his heart was by the waver in his voice.
"Nothing is going to change, my jaan, but at least we still have each other," Fahima said with a small smile.