Khurshid constantly asks me whether I am still keeping my diary or not. I always answer in the negative; I don't know why I answer him this way, but there is something deep inside me that urges me to make him believe that I don't write anything at all. I even go to great lengths to hide my papers from him under my wardrobe after I finish writing!
His insistence on making me write is strange; I don't understand it! What would it matter to him whether I write or not? In the end, let my papers remain confidential for now until things become clearer to me. Does his concern for me make him insist on this so that I feel better as the doctor told him, or is there something else I don't understand?
One evening, I realized that I would wake up completely different from what I used to be!
That thin thread between this and that had been severed, proving that the other self had asserted itself strongly—
A harsh, numb-hearted woman,
The old girl inside me was no longer fascinated by a red flower or even a white one,
Those sweetened words had become, for her, like coffee whose taste had vanished, becoming worthless.
I cannot deny that I miss my old self, but the new self kills that longing the moment it is born…
Life, my dear, always requires something to be born and something to die, and that something is always harsh but useful!
Today is my first appointment with the psychiatrist since my arrival here. I will see him up close. All my knowledge about him comes from Khurshid talking about him and the medications he prescribes to help me regain my mental health. I gathered many questions in my mind to make him answer them all, hoping I could understand what is happening around me.
I waited for him in the office on the lower floor as I was instructed, my excitement making my breaths uneven. Today I will take a step closer to knowing anything about that horror that makes me feel like a disturbed person.
The fifty-year-old doctor entered, appearing dignified. Despite his age, his features still maintained their handsomeness. Elegantly dressed in a striking way, he greeted me formally before sitting opposite me, asking about my condition. I answered briefly that I was fine. He asked mechanically:
"Have those thoughts attacked you again?"
"What thoughts?"
"Did you forget what we talked about last time so quickly?"
"What? Have we met before? I don't know you, and I haven't seen you before this time. I don't even know your name?"
"Hmmm… it seems your condition is very delayed. When Khurshid sent me a note about it, I didn't imagine your case would be this bad. I thought he exaggerated a little!"
I angrily told him I didn't know him and that I hadn't seen him before. Calmly, he stunned me by saying it was the fourth time he had seen and spoken to me since I woke from my coma!
Nonsense!! Back to nonsense… I didn't have the capacity to confront such actions. I was exhausted, and the traces of previous traumas were still in my mind. I stood up impulsively and told him I wanted to end the session.
With terrifying calm that I don't understand how one can possess, he said:
"Asia… I will let you do as you please, but I will also give you a very tempting offer…"
I stopped walking without looking at him. Encouraged, he continued, speaking in a triumphant tone:
"Very well… I will make you dive into your memory for fifteen minutes, and this may make you happy because you will learn something about your past life!"
I quickly turned to him, then went back and sat in front of him like a child waiting for her mother's return. Let's do it quickly… I told him so. He smiled calmly, then asked me to lie down on the "chaise longue" and close my eyes, relaxing completely. I obeyed, very excited. The last thing my ears caught from reality was his voice as he said:
"Before you are several doors, each a different color. Choose whichever you prefer and open it, but first I will count to ten, and when I finish counting, open what you wish and enter…"
I chose the red door, which, unbeknownst to me, was the door of love!
I entered it and found myself standing on the seashore, surrounded by many people. I felt lost as my eyes fell on no one I could recognize or remember!
Someone patted my shoulder from behind. I turned to him fearfully and found it was the café worker who was a few meters from the beach. I asked him fearfully what he wanted from me, and he told me that my coffee had gone cold and that they had replaced it twice!
I didn't understand anything, but I had heeded the doctor's advice before entering that world and tried to be myself and follow the events… I went with the waiter to my table. I found papers and pens, deducing they belonged to me because, as Khurshid told me, I am a writer!
I sat gently, flipping through the papers, finding them all blank except for one on which Khurshid's name was written!
What is the meaning of this? Did I know him at that time? Were we married then?
Hundreds of questions ran through my mind when Khurshid appeared, entering the café. His appearance was strong and extremely handsome. How did I not notice it at the present time? Was my feeling for him that strong back then?
He sat at the table opposite me, his eyes tracking me intensely, his smile never leaving his face as he looked at me!
I didn't know how to act, so I sat in place and waited. I should not alter the course of events. The waiter came to inform me that the person sitting opposite me wanted to offer some sweets. I accepted immediately and asked the waiter to let him join my table if he wished. Khurshid responded. He was very kind and gentle. He respectfully kissed my hand over a paper before sitting at the table and began speaking, asking:
"I can't wait. May I know your answer to what we discussed yesterday?"
Of course, I couldn't understand what he was talking about, but I didn't want to appear eccentric. I cleared my throat awkwardly to answer, but he saved me from the situation, adding in an amazed tone:
"It's amazing to have a wonderful romantic relationship with a super-beautiful woman like you all that time, culminating in marriage. I am certain you wanted this as much as I did."
He took an elegant wedding ring from his jacket pocket and presented it to me in a royal style. He was truly a man who could not be refused at that moment. I was surely impressed. If we had a long love relationship, my old reaction would have been pure joy!
I reached out to take the ring with a wide smile, telling myself that finally, this was something good I felt since waking up in that palace!
I examined it carefully and joyfully, finding a different name engraved inside: "Madeline"!
I said anxiously:
"Madeline? Who is the owner of this name?"
Severe headache struck my head mercilessly, and the ring fell from my hand. I held my head with both hands, screaming from the intense pain. Everything around me was shaking and blurry… Faces unclear, sounds overlapping, scenes intertwined, someone shouting:
"Asia… Asia."
Someone grabbed my hand and jumped me outside the door, taking me back to the doctor who was very close, trying to calm me in every way.
I repeated the name Madeline, and the doctor asked why. I told him what I saw, and his answer was a philosophical scientific explanation I could not understand!
I kept begging to go back there because I still didn't understand anything. This only increased my curiosity and confusion. He objected strongly, saying it posed a serious danger to my mind and told me the next session would be next week.
The doctor confirmed that the memories I had just witnessed were completely real, except for some details my mind fabricated to fill in the missing gaps it could not recall!
So, some things were incorrect, like the name I saw, which was completely different from mine!
But I feel something strange… I feel that memory is cold, soulless, as if excerpted from a novel. Khurshid, despite his kindness, was cold, as if he were reciting a script to me!
Even the waiter's face was devoid of life. I don't know how to describe it, but I felt inside a scene written by a failed writer!
Its parts were disconnected… How could we have had a long romantic relationship that reached the proposal stage, and he asks the waiter to join me or send sweets with him?
Shouldn't the barriers between us be gone? Shouldn't Khurshid be more flexible in dealing with his lover?
The doctor narrowed his eyes as he listened to my precise questions. I noticed a serious look in his eyes. He said with some annoyance:
"All these analyses? Why exhaust your mind constantly? Now I understand why you haven't healed or responded to treatment."
What is this man saying? He is supposed to help me, and I am asking important questions! How can he discourage me like this?
I told him my distress caused by him, and he quickly corrected, telling me he was amazed by my mind that never stops thinking about the smallest details—a dangerous sign for my mental health!
Mrs. Nazly knocked on the door, greeted in the manner of high-society ladies, approaching us slowly and coldly, which I hated. She shouted in a deep voice:
"Is everything alright, Doctor? Does my son's wife need anything?"
The doctor looked at me and said with a smile that I am very lucky because my mother-in-law has such tender manners. I forced a faint smile and told him everything is fine, except that I only need a new treatment plan, different from before, because he understood that the problem truly lies in my mind and not the accident!
A muffled laugh escaped her lips, painted with dark brown lipstick. She replied that she wanted me to regain my previous spirit because the palace had become like hell due to my behavior and illness.
He patted her shoulder, trying to reassure her, saying everything would be fine.
I rolled my eyes in boredom… what fools!
They left us alone again. The doctor told me to relax again, but I refused, claiming I was tired and needed rest. In truth, I wanted to escape from him due to my tension from his presence.
My heart did not trust that doctor, and I feel he is colluding with them. I don't believe I am insane. I am capable of thinking and connecting the dots. There is a big mystery in that family, and I will uncover it. But wait—who is Madeline?
I did not sleep that night, replaying that memory scene repeatedly, hoping to notice something else.
I squeezed my brain hard, and the confusion inside increased. I resisted with all my strength. Khurshid's face trembled at a crazy speed. His voice merged with the sound of the sea. A tragedy was happening inside my mind. The headache tore at my head like a wild beast. My skull was about to explode. I screamed horribly from the pain!
I fell to the ground, holding my head, shaking it as if punishing it for hurting me that way. Vision cleared for a split second… That was not Khurshid in the café!
It was the doctor! Yes, the doctor was the one sitting opposite me, giving me the ring, speaking to me, and pulling me by the arm to leave my thoughts too!
That man manipulated my thoughts? Now I confirmed my feeling toward him. The headache in my head intensified beyond endurance, and my screaming voice increased with it. Khurshid and his sister Shams woke up because of it. They grabbed my arms. I weakly tried to push them away, screaming that they were scoundrels manipulating my life!
Khurshid gave me a sedative injection heavier than before. I woke up the next morning like a corpse, unable to do anything. Khurshid approached me, his eyes full of sorrow and grief, impossible to fake. He tenderly kissed my forehead, shouting in a nearly crying tone:
"I promise you will be fine, my love. I will not let you live through this alone, even if I have to spend the rest of my life at your feet!"
I sensed sincerity in his words I had never felt before, yet I wondered at his honesty now, amidst all his past lies. Thoughts collided in my mind as usual, and I no longer understood anything.
In a very soft, faint voice, I requested to see the doctor again like yesterday to confront him with what I had learned, but of course, I kept it secret until I met him. Khurshid asked me foolishly:
"Again! The doctor hasn't arrived yet, my love. He apologized for yesterday, promising to come next week for sure!"
My eyes widened, I shook my head in refusal, exhausted. Tears streamed from my eyes uncontrollably. I shouted firmly:
"That's impossible! You are a damn liar! I sat with him, entered my memories, and saw all the truths. You will not deceive me again!"
He sighed helplessly, then rose and took a letter from his trouser pocket in a neat envelope. He opened it and began reading aloud. It read:
Dear Mr. Khurshid, greetings:
I sincerely apologize for missing my appointment with you tomorrow due to circumstances beyond my control. I will attend our other appointment next Saturday. Please accept my deeply embarrassed apology.
Dr. Elias Sadiq
He handed me the letter to read myself, saying sadly:
"Look for yourself and confirm that it was really sent to us and carries postal stamps and everything that would make you believe it's real! Enough, Asia, I beg you… I missed my love in the past and can no longer endure your constant accusations."
I continued to scream in a muffled voice, questioning what was happening to me. Could I really be insane?