Resisting A Cocky Billionaire

Chapter 44

His eyes shifts to me in help as I stood paralyzed watching as he starts jerking, mouth stretched while he hits his chest rapidly. His chest rises inches into the air and suddenly drops as he stiffens. He looks like he's unable to breath for a moment, his hands fall to his sides in a loud thud. The moment he breathes hardly, he strangely turns blue.

In a flash, I drop the tray on the floor and move quickly to him on the floor, using all my might to tear open his shirt. He's not breathing. His heart in pounding and struggling for oxygen savagely. His face, lifeless and blue. I contemplate on breathing into his mouth. But proceed to press my hands down on his chest. He doesn't respond after I wait so I do it again and again. Is he going to die like this? I ask myself panickly as I keep pressing, hearing the air whoosh. I lost track of the times I press his chest. Placing my head on his chest once more, a rain of relief washes over me when his heart starts pumping, his once blue face is now pale as he inhales and exhales roughly through the nose. His head lays on my laps as I pull him further on my body as sweat dampens his clothes. His eyes stares blankly at me.

"Thank you." He mutters softly before his eyes shuts. I reach for my phone in my pocket and call 911.

"My husband just had a seizure." I say, panick evidently dripping from my voice.

"Did he fall or hit any hard surface?" A woman's voice asks gently.

"I don't know, he was on the floor when I came in."

"Keep still till we come."

I nod as if they could see me and give them the address.

"Thank you." I cut the call and stare at my husband, I wipe the hair from his wet face and peck his forehead. In the months I stayed with Omar, I had never seen him behave this way. Is Omar epileptic? He never told me about this.

A while after, Omar is taken to the hospital. I called Adam and Yousuf, Adam didn't look as scared as Yousuf and I. Yousuf kept pacing to and fro. Later, the doctor steps in and Yousuf asks for an audience with him. My attention shifts to Omar and back to Adam. "Do you know anything about this?"

His eyes meet mine as he nods. "It started some weeks ago, he was at work, he looked paper
white and sick that I advised him to go home but he refused. Out of nowhere, he started jerking. It was the scariest thing that had ever freaked me out."

"I never knew he was epileptic."

"He's not."

Yousuf comes in to fill us in on his talk with the doctor. "He said it's a non epileptic seizure caused by emotional stress, fear and insomnia. Perhaps a terrible event happened which triggered the seizure."

My mind goes blank and my heart breaks in grief and guilt. All along I was blaming Omar for what happened me, little did I know that he was going through his fair share of torture, maybe worse. I blamed him repeatedly for the death of our unborn child. That must have been hard on him, everything was hard on him. I can't help but think that he didn't tell me because he didn't want to see me worried. It's my fault he's this way. Why didn't I just listen to Aliyah's advice on letting things go. If only I wasn't so stubborn and stupidly selfish. This is my fault.

"Aisha?" Adam's voice calls making my eyes go to his. I follow his gaze which lands on Omar. I rush to his side, suppressing the urge to hug him. "How're you feeling?" I ask, my eyes glowing with joy.

"Alhamdulillah, I'm good. Thanks a lot. I'm sorry I freaked you out."

"Yeah you ought to be." I glare playfully and smile deeply when he laughs softly.

"I'm sorry." I take his hand in mine.

"For?"

"Being a bitch."

He gives my hand a little squeeze. "Someone told me to never apologize for who you're."

"Ouch! That hurts." I let out a laugh. "Seriously though, I'm sorry."

"It's alright."

I peck him on the forehead again and leave the three of them to talk. I exit the room to get food. When I return, they announce their leave and promise to come back tomorrow morning before he gets discharged as the doctor said.

"Fries?" I ask Omar who's still laying awake. "Yeah."

I take my chair closer to him and feed him. "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"I didn't want to make you worried."
It makes tears come to my eyes as I blink quickly. "Don't cry, Shh. How did you even know what to do?"

I swallow the fries in my mouth and give him some. "Dad was epileptic, he had multiple seizures. It had to do with his PTSD."

I yawn and glance at the clock. 9:13pm. "I think you should sleep." He says, accessing me worriedly.

"I'm not feeling sleepy. You're unwell, you should sleep."

"Ok we should."
I nod and arch my head further into the uncomfortable chair, wrapping my arms around my chest.

"Come up here." Omar says, shifting to the left in order to create more space. "No, you should relax. Also, I won't fit."

"You will." He taps the space beside him, his brows furrowing in concern.

"I'm comfortable." I smile, pretending to look as comfortable as I can.

"Yeah right, it's obvious your neck is aching. Now get up here or I go down."

I rise from the chair towards him, knowing him, he would most likely do what he said. He smiles brightly as I lay next to him, placing my head on his shoulder. If he was uncomfortable, he didn't say. "Is this even allowed?"

"Who cares? Now hush and go to sleep."

"I'm at fault right?" I ask again, swallowing the lump that formed in my throat."

"Stop blaming yourself, it's not your fault okay? Do you know how much I missed you, your royal chubbiness? I missed doing this." He kisses the top of my head. I laugh at his words. I know he's trying to change the topic, I let him do so.

"I love you so much." He breathes into my headscarf. I secretly smile and say the seven words I didn't think I had say ever again.

"I love you Omar Malik, a lot.

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