Surveying the decorated wall now vibrantly alive with Winnie the Pooh and Harry Potter characters, Sarah allowed herself a satisfied grin.

Most people might find it crazy that her thoughts upon discovering her pregnancy so quickly went to bookish nursery decor, but as a voracious lifelong reader, she had always longed to share her love of books with her future children.

She could still recall her excitement when she first saw those two coveted pink lines finally show up on one of her countless pregnancy tests. After numerous efforts to conceive during their decade-long marriage had ended in failure, she and Zahid had almost given up hope.

It was only what Zahid termed Sarah's bloody-mindedness–the sheer grit carrying her from a Bangla-medium education to a full scholarship at Princeton–that had enabled her to endure the physical discomfort as well as the repeated letdowns. 

Not to mention the richly-textured humiliation that came with being a thirty-something, thus-far-childless woman in Bangladesh. Everyone from opinionated family members to nosy strangers in doctors' waiting rooms felt entitled to ask questions and provide unwanted, often scientifically dubious advice.

It was only after the first trimester had been safely completed that Sarah considered telling anyone. Even her parents had been kept in the dark, ostensibly to avoid disappointment if anything went wrong.

When she was finally able to relax, she put all her energy into choosing inspiration from her favourite children's books for the baby's room. There would be no Disney characters for this well-read child!

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Chess Grandmaster

Zahid teased her about it mercilessly. "But what if he doesn't like reading, darling? What if he's a movie buff instead, like me?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Sarah retorted. "Do you know the damage that too much screentime can inflict on children's developing brains? Anyway, she'll be a real bookworm, a born reader. I'm sure of it!"

Unfortunately, Sarah was wrong on all counts. Their son, Zoad, was nothing like they had expected–let alone what she had assumed. Difficult as a baby, he grew into a child prone to tantrums.

But if Sarah had thought the initial stages of motherhood were challenging, things worsened considerably after Zoad started school. His teachers complained continuously about his lack of attentiveness, and–in one particularly ferocious critic's words–Zoad's "vehement resistance to learning".

Zahid blamed outdated teaching methods for being part of the problem, but Sarah simply doubled down, dedicating her own time to supervising Zoad's homework. Their conflicting approaches to the problem deepened the distance between them. There was no question of trying for a second baby.

After a particularly stressful few months, they finally agreed that their son might need professional help with his studies. Zoad was sent to a Child Specialist for an assessment.

A few nights later, Zahid returned home to find Sarah screaming at their seven-year-old. "Just read the page, Zoad! Why do you have to make everything so difficult?"

Wordlessly, he offered Sarah the file containing the specialist's report.

Zoad had ADD and severe dyslexia.

Farah Ghuznavi is a writer, translator and development worker. Her work has been published in 11 countries across Asia, Africa, Europe and the USA. Writer in Residence with Commonwealth Writers, she published a short story collection titled Fragments of Riversong (Daily Star Books, 2013), and edited the Lifelines anthology (Zubaan Books, 2012). She is currently working on her new short story collection and is on Instagram @farahghuznavi.