It had been a little over seventeen hours since Harakat arrived at the hospital early that morning. She'd remained in the room, as instructed by the two men standing outside, for the entirety of the bright day, only entertained by the distant voices of nurses and passersby in the corridor. There was nothing to take her mind off of the state of the man in front of her.
She was relieved that he'd remained in the same place since her arrival, even as the doctor silently slipped in and out to take his vitals. No news must mean good news. The only scare she had experienced occurred when she dozed off near the evening only to be woken by a loud knock on the door as one of the guarding men asked if she wanted a falafel sandwich from the passing food truck. Her grumbling stomach had given her away.
Since then, she sat in the emptiness of the room, only watching her unconscious husband breathe in and out. Every six hours she moved to lift his head because it was the only thing she had to look forward to doing aside from lounging boredly around the room.
That night, as the call for the last prayer of the day echoed in the city around them, Harakat rose to turn his head again. But when she did, a long streak of blood began to leak from the material of his bandage. She placed him back as he'd been and hurried into the bathroom for two paper towels, one dry and the other wet. She used the dry sheet to collect the blood before cleaning the area with the damp towel, reaching under the collar of his shirt to clean the blood before it stained his clean gown.
When she pulled her hand away, Harakat watched to make sure the blood would not continue to flow. She wasn't sure if more blood would be good or bad but, if it did not stop, she would call the doctor. But no more dripped down when she pulled the towel back.
Harakat kept it between her fingers to throw away in the bathroom and leaned forward. Her right hand slipped behind Riyad's neck and she placed her other on the left side of his jaw. When she secured a hold of his head, Harakat carefully lifted him an inch off the pillow and turned him as she'd done before. Her eyes remained on the other side of his neck to make sure no more red liquid poured down his neck after the adjustment.
But a faint moan pulled her attention away from Riyad's neck and onto his features. His brows were knit near the center of his forehead in reaction to the discomfort he'd most likely experienced when she moved him. Harakat paused, unsure if he'd really made a sound or if she'd imagined it after so many hours of waiting for him to wake.
Her wonder resolved when Riyad pulled his heavy eyelids apart to reveal bloodshot eyes. She froze when he looked at her, a result of her surprise at his sudden awakening and the shrunken distance between them. Her hands remained around his neck and on his jaw just as they had been when she'd moved him. Though her heart pulsed, Riyad's exhaustion seemed to overpower any other emotion he could have.
She gently removed her hands from him, pulling them swiftly away once they were free. But he caught her wrist between his cold fingers. His hold was weak. Harakat didn't try to drag herself away.
"You...," he parted his lips to speak words that came out tapered and shaky through his already hoarse voice. "What are you doing here?" He breathed, the effort of waking up seeming to drain his strength.
Harakat noticed and leaned over him to quickly press the call button at the bed's side. Riyad had woken up. The doctor needed to be the first to see him then she would call Farhan after his state was checked. In response to his question, she showed him the blood-stained towel in her hand. She was there to care for him until he woke, even Farhan had clarified that.
Riyad's attention slipped to the paper towel but the ghostly expression on his features remained steadfast. "No," he tried to shake his head but flinched at the sudden pain that forced him to halt. His features contorted as he bit back a pained groan and released only a careful breath. "No," Riyad tried again, his words breathy. "Jinen isn't safe... for you, it's crawling with soldiers. You- you need to go. You can't...."
When he used his grip on her wrist to push her away, Harakat placed her other hand over his to gently resist. If he sent her back, nobody would be here to watch and care for him. She'd known she'd be faced with his resistance when he woke up.
"Listen to me, it's not safe... I can't-."
He couldn't complete his sentence because, just as he pushed his hand against her with more determination, a clap of pain thundered against his skull. Riyad's grip of Harakat immediately released and lifted to his temple. His eyes pressed to a close and his lips tightened, a pained whimper breaking in his voice. The helpless sound that was so unlike him sent panic through the girl sitting before him as the monitor behind him began to beep with the elevated beating of his heart. Riyad cried out, his hands trembling beside the wrapped bandage as the red stains on its white material quickly spread.
"What's going on in there?" A guarding man asked.
Harakat pulled open the curtain to call for help but the doctor was already racing into the room, flying past the sliding curtain with a single nurse at his side. Rising from the bed, Harakat moved out of their way.
"Young man, I'm going to need you to calm down. You're only just recovering and this state is still dangerous for you," the man spoke to a trembling Riyad as the uniformed girl who rushed into the cabinets below the sink. "His heartrate is going up and causing pressure on his skull again. I'm going to need to give him a mild depressant, okay?" He asked Harakat but was already sliding the needle into his IV before she nodded.
Less than a moment later, the machine's beeping began to slow and Riyad's head fell back onto the pillow, his twisted features softening. The doctor turned to Harakat. "I gave him a medication to slow the beating of his heart because we can't allow the relieved pressure to build on his brain again. He'll likely stay awake but he won't be very alert and may slip in and out for a few hours. When he comes to, you have to make sure this number remains below 110, okay?" He reached for the monitor that had beeped crazily moments before. The number he pointed to was slowly declining from 125... 124... 123....
Harakat nodded firmly.
The doctor smiled. "It is a good sign that he woke up a couple hours earlier than expected, but it means we must extra careful. I told you he was a determined patient, didn't I?" He lightly joked before turning back to the nurse. "Administer some more pain medication into his IV bag then wait a few minutes before changing his bandage, disinfect and sew the rest up loosely so they can close naturally, alright? We'll still see some blood but it shouldn't be more than a few drops."
Harakat stepped aside and sat on the couch, watching as the nurse unwrapped the white material from around his head. Her stomach dipped at the sight of the dried blood and stitches between his short hair. While the nurse worked, Harakat stepped into the corridor for some air.
She glanced down at the phone in her hand, contemplating whether to text Farhan with the news or not. The moment Farhan knew Riyad had awakened, he would return and ask him all sorts of questions that risked raising his blood pressure again. He'd waited a full day until now while knowing nothing. Harakat decided he could wait a little bit more.
"You shouldn't stand out here too long," one of the men announced. "People will ask questions if they realize someone is in this room."
Harakat hummed, taking another large breath of the cool evening air before returning into the room as she'd been told. The nurse had gone from the space and only left Riyad sitting in the bed, his eyes fighting to remain open even through the heaviness of his eyelids. The bandage was no longer as thick on his head and began from the middle of his forehead rather than covering his eyes. The fresh white color helped his appearance strengthen.
Stepping into the bathroom, she retrieved a few damp towels and returned to sit on the bed beside him. Riyad didn't resist as she turned his head toward her. His eyes drooped tiredly when she began wiping the faint marks of blood left across his forehead and ears that the nurse had missed. Through his drowsiness, his gaze remained caught on his wife while hers focused on softly cleaning his skin.
"I'm sorry," he slurred. Harakat continued wiping at his temple, but her gaze slipped to his when he spoke up. "I shouldn't have... rushed. Forgive me." Her heart trembled then moment she felt his touch on her elbow, his fingers slipping over her sleeve. Her eyes slid down to their point of contact, watching the way his touch soothed her.
"I'm afraid. Harakat, listen...," he pulled her elbow closer until her arm rested on his chest. She worried that the weight would hurt his weakened body, but Riyad's attention never once flickered away from her. "I have nobody in this world except you. You have to stay safe... you have to stay by my side, okay?"
Her heart seemed to slow when it needed to race out of her chest, his unwavering eye contact and the tenderness of his touch over her arm stilling the world around them. Though his system had been filled with depressants and pain medication, the desperation in his eyes made his words seem genuine to the girl sitting against him. He watched the way her eyes flickered between his, feeling her racing heart through her wrist.
"Harakat," he repeated, leaning his head forward to catch her gaze with his again. His eyes searching through hers for an answer.
She nodded. Promising.
Riyad's expression softened, his palm sliding up her forearm to tenderly wrap around her wrist. She wondered if he would remember how he spoke to her now and touched her the way a true husband would touch a wife he loved. Regardless of whether or not he might, she felt the sense of security fill the room around them with a reassuring warmth. For the first time in as long as she could remember, Harakat knew that she would not have to be the one on high alert from that moment on.
He sighed and let his head sink back into the pillow, his eyes dipping to a gentle close as she continued cleaning around his neck. Harakat worked in silence until Riyad's skin was no longer stamped with dust and blood and had returned to its usual cleanly tan color.
She paused when he softly turned his head to reveal a long scar running vertically from the middle of his ear to the sharpest point of his jawline. Harakat leaned closer, running her index finger over the healed mark that had stretched the older Riyad grew. It seemed old, older than most of her scars by the way it had healed and faded. Her eyes shifted to examine the peace that sat across his features as he took measured breaths in and out, his body's ease credited to the medications pumping through his system. It was a rare sight but Harakat liked how he looked when he fully trusted in his surroundings.
But the peace was disrupted, shattered into chaos when the room door suddenly flew open and crashed against the wall behind it. When she spun, Harakat found Farhan standing at the door with tension over his shoulders as if he hadn't quite meant to blast it open so roughly. His expression morphed from surprise to anger when he met her eyes.
Amer and Kader followed him into the room once he regained his composure, his sharp gaze focused on the girl sitting on the bed. "I see he is awake and my phone has not missed any calls from you," he began quickly.
Harakat rose and turned to face the three men. She motioned to the bed and Riyad's current state, finding the reason for her decision clear and not needing much of an explanation.
"Your job was to stay by his side until he woke up and notify us the moment he did, was that not clear?" He asked, the frustration and something deeper burning in his eyes as he glared at the girl. She recognized another emotion that overpowered his expression. "He is awake and you did not call me. You failed at the one job I gave you!"
"Job?" Riyad's calm, quiet voice somehow overpowered Farhan's expression and called silence into the room. All four of the space's occupants turned to find his heavy-lidded eyes tiredly watching Farhan, who stood at the end of his bed. "You're the one... who brought her here."
Farhan blinked at Riyad's question before something seemed to click within his mind. He took a deep breath while watching his newly awakened companion. "Give us privacy," he announced, keeping his eyes on Riyad as he spoke. "All of you step out for a moment."
"No." Riyad slurred, "my wife stays."
"It's confidential, Riyad."
"I carry each one of your orders above my head, Farhan... but not when it comes to her. You- brought her to Jinen knowing it was under threat. Now, do not question my decisions to protect her from the dangers you have surrounded her with," Riyad's voice scratched with the rawness of his words, his expression drained of energy but darkened in defense.
Tension filled the room as Kader and Amer glanced at one another then toward Farhan, eager to see how he would react to Riyad's rejection. Riyad had never once declined an order in all their years together. The two-lettered word itself was enough to throw the entire room into silence until Farhan finally spoke. "Fine. She can sit in the bathroom until we finish our discussion. Amer and Kader step outside."
As the two men scurried out, Harakat made her way around the bed and into the dark bathroom. She switched on the lights and closed the door, unsure why they had sent her in if the thinness of the walls allowed each sound to carry in anyway.
"You refused my order," Farhan began quietly.
"You... trust when you sent my wife into the same camp Hamza was taken... within," Riyad replied, his words too quiet to clearly hear from her place sitting on the closed toilet seat.
"I made sure she was protected."
"...never should have brought her here at all."
Farhan cleared his throat. "Our situation was dire. We had no men to spare after the events that took place with you and Hamza as well as back at the camp. My head's been spinning, Riyad. How could both of you be outpowered by those men? You're my best men."
Riyad was silent for a moment so Harakat shifted off the seat and closer to the door, pressing her ear against it to listen to his response. She wanted to know what had happened to him just as badly. "They were too many," he murmured. "They... knew us. Our real names."
"You told them?"
Silence. Then, "they already knew. On those devices of theirs, they had both of our ID cards. Hamza attacked first and I followed but... when they told me that and I realized they had the information... I blanked."
"Where is Hamza now?"
Riyad's voice dropped. "I don't- I don't know."
"Don't blame yourself, brother. God will be his protector now—better than any of us could ever be. You just focus on getting better so you can return to the camp soon. We have more urgent matters to attend to when you come back," Farhan explained, his tone lowering at the final statement to keep anybody from hearing. "If my concerns are correct, then an Occupational spy has infiltrated The Resistance camps."
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Early update to make up for last week's totally late update!! I kind of love this chapter♥️. Something about men being their most genuine and vulnerable when they're sick or ill always gets me😭😭. Riyad is such a sweetheart AAAAAH
But what do you guys think of that last line?? GASP, a spy??? WHO COULD IT BE??!!!
Who do we NOT want it to be is a better question.
Love youuuu