But except for when she breastfed the child, having no choice but to face him, at all other times, she didn't even want to spare him an extra glance.
When the child turned one, he learned to crawl; at a year and a half, he could already walk around the room with the aid of a small stool, but by the age of two, he still couldn't speak.
The clinic doctor reminded her that the incident of jumping into the river years ago might have caused the child to have sequelae, and that he might never be able to speak in his lifetime!
Upon hearing this news, the man smoked his shisha so fiercely that in one night he nearly smoked as much as he normally would in an entire year.
The child's grandmother's hair turned half white overnight.
And she, lying in bed with her back to the child, thought to herself that having a mute child was quite good; it spared her the annoyance of noise.
