Page 136 of To Tango, with Desire

“I’m scared.” Tears pooled in her eyes.

“Hey.” I stroked her cheek. “You got this. You're so strong, you're so damn brave, habibti. I’ll be waiting for you. I’m here, I promise.”

“Mr. Nasser, you need to leave.”

Leaning over the bed rail, I gave Amira one brief, fleeting kiss before stepping back.

I walked out to the waiting area, stunned at the cruel turn of events. And it was at that moment that I knew that if I were to lose her, I would never recover. I would never find a woman as sweet and strong, as kind and passionate as Amira.

Overwhelmed, I did something I hadn’t done in a long time.

I let go.

Tears burned my eyes, streaking down my cheeks at an alarming rate. My hands shook and terror seized my brain, magnifying every unwanted thought until it played out like some horror film: an unrelenting carousel of scenarios, each worse than the previous.

My wife was lying in some operating theater because of me.

And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to save her.

THIRTY-FOUR

ZANE

Ipaced the waiting room, unable to sit. Unable to eat. Unable to do anything remotely useful.

Time seemed to be mocking me with every ticking minute. Everything had slowed down, taking on a surreal, warped quality. Like Alice in Wonderland. I half-expected a fucking talking bunny to hop on by, consumed by his tardiness.

The image made me want to laugh. But I knew I would just dissolve into a fit of tears instead. It had happened sporadically over the past few hours. I couldn’t seem to control it. Not that I cared. All I could do was pace and pray.

I was certain that the nurses were one more question away from booting me from the fucking hospital.

So I’d called Nasrin to tell her, to do something productive, but I’d been met with cold disdain. It was as if the woman didn’t care what happened to her daughter. She’d said ugly things to me about Amira’s desire to have an abortion. How God’s will had had a hand in this tragedy. That if she died, if her youngest child didn’t make it, she only had herself to blame.

Disgusted, I’d ended the call, unable to stomach her venom. She cared more about her lecturing than the child she’d reared.

My heart ached for Amira. I wouldn’t tell her. She didn’t need to know the details of her mother’s derision. It wouldn’t help to hear it, but I would never forget. My wife deserved so much more than that. And I would do everything in my power to make sure she was protected.

I cursed.

I’d been reckless. Stupid. Overcome by passion.

All the things I’d vowed to never be.

I’d learned to live a life of control, to maintain a level of discipline in my personal and professional life. I’d seen what greed and licentiousness had done to Kade, how addiction had robbed me of a father.

But God help me, when I was with Amira, I wanted to let go. To knock down every rigid construct I’d put in place . . . to become someone else. Someone better.

But when I had lost control, it had led to this. I never wanted it to happen again. I couldn’t bear the thought of putting her in harm’s way.

After hours and hours of waiting, Amira was finally brought up to the ward. The operation had been successful. She was safe.

But it wasn’t until I was able to visit her, to see her with my own eyes, that I truly relaxed.

“Habibti.”

She turned her head, smiling softly. “Zane.”

“How are you feeling?”