44| His Proof

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Wahaj's POV


"Let's say I believe you?" I spoke after a long silence, "Where is your proof?" I trembled as I got the words out. Afraid that what he was saying was true.


He handed me the documents as he spoke, "If you waited for me to explain four years ago, I would have given you the evidence, but you left without a trace, even your grandmother and aunt didn't know anything about you."


I looked over at the pile of paper and the dates that were written on each medical certificate. A few hours have passed, and I still sat in the same seat as I looked at the Professor who sat there waiting for me to say anything, but I couldn't. I still couldn't believe it.


It has said in the medical records that they have done a Vitro Fertilization which is an assisted reproductive technology referred to as IVF. IVF is the process of fertilization by extracting eggs, retrieving a sperm sample, and then manually combining an egg and sperm in a laboratory dish. 

The embryo(s) is then transferred to the uterus, Mine


"You've turned out very differently from what I'd imagined, Wahaj," he muses quietly. "I mean, If someone told me four years ago that this is how you turned, I would spit into his face."


As soon as the last syllable leaves his mouth, his face contorts in horror. For a moment he looks shocked at himself - as if he hadn't entirely planned to say precisely what he's said. He's a professor; every word is planned, yet the legislator in him has always been able to simulate shame quite well.


"Wahaj, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean-"


At that moment in time, I smiled; I remembered my first time being called to the professor's office during my junior year. He had a red pen all over my paper, and I trembled in fear of his mere annoyance. Now his lectures seemed the only regular part in my life. It was the only thing soothing in the changeable environment I was in.


"Why are you sorry," I held into the papers he had given me. "I turned into a conniving witch, then. Is that what you're saying, Professor?"


"No, Wahaj," he hisses. "I never-"


"I turned into you instead of living some insignificant, unimportant life, hiding from the world because that is what I should do? Is that what you thought, love?"


He moves in closer again. "Wahaj, I never meant to-"


I jerk forward quickly, our faces so close they're almost touching. My voice shakes when I speak.


"You do not know me. Don't think that because you married me that you know a thing about me, You never bothered to" I hiss, "a thing about what I want or what I think or why I do the things I do."


"Wahaj, I don't want to argue with you. I just want to-"


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