He waited, his breath partly held, his body frozen.
Then, there was a noise. A shout, and an alarm sounded. Medical teams came running. Doctors and nurses from all directions, moving in one direction.
All into Sophia’s room.
He couldn’t wait any longer.
He pushed inside in time to see a machine hooked up to Sophia’s chest, and everyone clearing while the instrument was read, then moving back with urgency. Her stomach had been cut – the babies had been born via caesarean. She was so pale. Like the sands of the desert.
Her eyes were shut. He couldn’t help it. He moved to her, closer, his throat thick as he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He looked down at her, her beautiful face so restful now, like she was asleep. And he made a guttural noise from deep within him. Her eyes lifted, slowly, with difficulty.
He felt the moment she recognised him and his chest exploded.
“They’re here,” she spoke without smiling. “Your babies.”
“Our babies.” He reached for her hand, squeezing it. She didn’t say anything. Not for a long time, and the medical staff worked frantically, pressing against her chest, doing everything they could to mend her body.
“Love them, Malik,” she said, the words obviously costing her a great effort. “Love them even when you want to push them away,” she paused, closing her eyes, and he realised she was crying, tears rolling down the side of her face. “With all that you are, please love them for me.”
Sophia had always been a fighter but finally, all the fight had left her.
Chapter 15
“NO.” HE SAID THE WORD to no one and everyone. He looked around the room at the people who were working frantically on his wife. She’d fallen asleep. She’d left him.
She was gone.
But he couldn’t let her be.
He stared at her and took a step backwards, his body disconnected from his mind.
“You will make her well,” he roared, and he stared at her, but he had no hope. Nor any reason to hope. Why would life be so good to return her to him?
Why would fate reward him with her?
He’d been given the gift of this woman and he’d rejected it at every turn.
He hadn’t deserved her.
He held himself perfectly still as they worked, watching every man and woman, waiting, his body on tenterhooks. He could not look at his children, despite what she’d asked of him. He didn’t even know if they were boys or girls.
He stared at Sophia, her pale face growing more pale by the second, and he felt the world was swallowing him whole.
He knelt down beside her and did the only thing he could: he prayed.
“Don’t you leave me, Sophia.” He dropped his head forward, to hers. “Don’t you think of going anywhere.”
Four days later, he hadn’t left her side. She remained in a
coma, but he spoke to her as though she were awake. He brought their children to her, their babies, two beautiful girls, and he described them in every detail to her.
On the fifth day, he began to read. He read Plato, just as his mother had read to him and Addan as children. He read Plato because he knew she loved it, and because he loved it, and because she had been right about how much they had in common.
He read Plato because it was something she’d shared with Addan and just maybe memories of his brother would stir into her mind, and bring her to life. And he wouldn’t even mind – he wouldn’t feel envy, not if it meant Sophia came back to him.
He read Plato and he refused to contemplate a world in which she didn’t wake up.
On the seventh day of her coma, he could no longer bear the grim expressions of the nurses. He asked for only one doctor – the one who didn’t look at him as though he were the only fool in the room who didn’t understand what was happening – to attend to her.