Sparks of Love ☑

Thirty-Three

"It sure is," she said, a discomforted look passing over her face simultaneously.

"Thank you, my lady." He glanced at the wall clock. "Let's start heading out, we might get traffic on the way."

"Yeah. . . give me a second." Her face grew a little green. "I just. . ." She trailed off, dashing towards the restroom.

Understanding came to Abdur Rehman, who quickly followed after her. He found her heaving over the toilet, breathless but not being able to throw up.

"False alarm," Rafa assured, wiping her mouth and flashing him a tired smile.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, the baby's been good since yesterday. Maybe he or she is just playing with us." She washed her hands before dabbing them on her face to counter the paleness. "Let's go."

At the door while Abdur Rehman turned off the lights, Rafa inserted the keys into the lock. The humidity of the day was slowly starting to lift, leaving behind a pleasant coolness. She breathed into the fresh air, feeling the baby move inside her. You like that too, don't you? The baby was months away from being born, but she could already tell that he or she would be like their father, a nature lover, a runner. We should start taking you on walks, shouldn't we? You'll bond well with Dad.

"If we take the freeway on the way back, we might be able to stop for ice cream," Abdur Rehman said out loud, his voice growing clearer and louder as he neared her.

Last night she had confessed to him about her cravings and mood swings, the ones she got in between the morning sickness and drowsiness. Donuts were her first priority, but because only a few donut shops were twenty-four stores, she had settled on ice cream; cucumber flavored and banana split, one scoop of each.

Rafa imagined the taste of both on her palate, the craving coming to her in strong waves. She couldn't wait to indulge in the peculiar flavors, and her baby thought the same, because as soon as Abdur Rehman stopped behind her to close the door, and she turned to him to watch, the gentle lulling in her stomach became a tornado and she hurled over herself and him.

Abdur Rehman's strong arms stabilized her as her knees grew weak, the vomit coming out violently. He held her while rubbing circles in her back, allowing her to stain the beautiful Persian style rug in their foyer.

"Oh my God," she cried, lifting her gaze to stare at the mess. Abdur Rehman had taken the brunt of most of the puke, dripping off him from his beard to his shiny black shoes. While her own white sandals were stained in many colors, and her dress looked like a Piccaso. "We're going to be late for our reservation, aren't we?" She whispered, looking at him with leaking eyes.

"Let's clean you up."

While he helped her into the shower and let her wash out the stained dress, he discarded his own shirt and diligently cleaned up the mess in the foyer. Fans blaring and windows open to rid the house of the acidic smell, Abdur Rehman wet vacuumed and scrubbed the remnants of whatever Rafa had eaten since that morning. Back in their room, he handed her clean clothes to change into, while he took her clothes and his own, and threw them in the washer.

While he patiently went through the tasks, Rafa sat sobbing over the ruined date. "And I dressed up so nicely!" She cried, wiping the eyes which were now faintly lined with eyeliner.

"You look good in sweatpants too."

"Your sweatpants, you mean. I can't even fit into mine anymore." She sobbed harder, suddenly embarrassed by the weight gain.

Abdur Rehman clamped a hand over his mouth to suppress his laughter. So these are the so called mood swings, he thought.

"The night's not over yet!" He assured, gently taking her arm. "We can still go grab a bite from Dave's. Are you craving hot chicken?"