He had caught her casting puzzled looks at him, seen the way she caught herself when she was irked by his politeness, astonished that he was even capable of it with her.
Now, standing outside her door, he questioned his sanity again. He needed to treat her like any other employee, any other servant that his brother had. Let her come find him whenever she was well and offer him an excuse.
But he couldn’t stop wondering about what would cause the ruthlessly efficient woman to be absent.
He pushed the doors and stepped in. It was early evening, but the French doors to her suite were still open, and brought a chill inside.
Frowning, he closed them. The suite bore her stamp clearly. The subtle scent of jasmine and her skin, wafted over him, knuckling him in the gut, unlocking a million memories inside his head.
There were medical journals, an iPad and a scarf dangling on the table in the lounge. An old framed picture of her with her three younger sisters sat next to the scarf.
A low, keening moan came from the bedroom. He turned instantly, a slow chill racing up his spine. He pushed the bedroom door open.
She lay in the middle of the bed, dressed in loose white pajamas that hung low on her hips and a loose cotton tunic in faded yellow. Her thick, wavy hair fanned out against the white sheets shone like copper-gold silk. Lying on her side, her arms clasped her belly so tight that her knuckles showed white. She moaned again and this time, the pain in the sound made the hair on his arms stand.
He got onto the bed slowly, making sure not to put too much weight on his right hip. She looked so pale, the golden hue of her usual color all but gone. Her eyes were red and swollen. That she had shed tears was a fact he couldn’t believe even when presented with evidence.
Nikhat never cried. He remembered the day when her mother had died. She had been twelve. And yet Azeez only remembered her resolve to be strong for her younger sisters. Shifting closer to her, he pushed the sweat-slicked hair back from her forehead. His breath left him in a long exhale, thankful that her skin wasn’t burning up.
She stiffened suddenly, as if a hot poker was lancing her next to him, and then shivered uncontrollably as another wave of pain hit, he realized. He clasped her fingers with his tightly, willing her to draw strength from him. He felt the tremble slowly fade from her body, heard her breath leave in a jagged exhale. The whimper of relief that accompanied it caught the breath in his throat. “Nikhat, ya habeebiti, look at me,” he said. Watching her like this, he felt powerless and, at the same time, gripped with a fierce determination to see her through it.
She jerked her head back, her gaze flying to him. He thought she would stiffen and move away, demand to be released, tell him she didn’t need his comfort.
“Azeez?”
“Yes, Nikhat.”
Fresh tears welled up in her beautiful eyes, and he felt as if someone had kicked him in the gut. She scooted closer to him on the bed, and her arms went tight around his waist. “It hurts, Azeez. So much. Every time that wave comes, it feels like I will die.” Her tears leaked out of her eyes, drawing wet tracks onto her cheeks.
He wiped them with a shaking hand, his heart jammed in his throat. “Why, in God’s name, haven’t you summoned help? I’ll have them fly a specialist in, anything you need. Is it some kind of fever, an infection?”
She shook her head and hid her face in his abdomen. But not before he caught a shadow of something in her eyes. He sunk his fingers into her thick hair, rubbing her scalp in a soothing manner. “I’m going to get my period soon,” she said with no hesitation that belied the way she hid her face.
And suddenly he remembered how she used to disappear every month for a few days, and shy away when he asked her about it. Knowing that it would only make her retreat from her, he had never pressed her about it. “Have they always been so painful?” he asked now. It galled him to imagine her suffering like this every month for so many years.
And he thought he knew everything there was about pain.
She nodded, and her nose tickled his abdomen. He tightened his muscles, willing his body not to betray its automatic reaction to her nearness. “As far as I can remember.”
“So what do we do?”
“I have learned to manage it with medication and exercise, and breathing techniques. It’s so stupid, but I…forgot to renew my medication on time before I left. It’s on its way from New York. Should be delivered tomorrow morning.”
“And until then?” he said, his throat dry.
“Until then, I just bear it the best I can. It’s really bad only for a few hours,” she whispered in a small voice. He pulled himself up until he was sitting a little straighter. Her palm moved from his abdomen to his chest, and his heart thundered like a wild animal under her tentative fingers. The thin cotton of his tunic was no barrier to the feel of her touch.