“It’s quite different because they are pure hormones, they make my body…” She blinked, trying to backtrack slowly. “The pain is quite manageable coupled with regular exercise and deep breathing.”
“All those trips you made in Dahaara and then overseas?”
She winced, remembering those trips with her father’s sister. The despair that she would never find relief, it was the thing she remembered most. “I had already seen every doctor I could in Dahaar. None of them ever gave me a conclusive diagnosis. Just kept telling me it was normal, that I had to just cope with it.
“That pain…it would cripple me every month.
“My father—” she cleared her throat “—I used to get so angry with him. My mother was already gone when the pains started and he…” She felt the force of Azeez’s anger and released hers. “He…couldn’t talk about it with me, wouldn’t even come near me. He was too traditional for that. But he didn’t give up on me, either. He sent me to New York with a family friend. Someone recommended a…specialist there. She ran a lot of tests. And within a week, she recommended these drugs and other measures.”
“This is why you became an ob-gyn?”
She nodded, glad to be able to share at least half the truth. “No one should have to go through this kind of pain for so many years. I want to bring more awareness to the condition. It’s already a hard subject for a young girl to talk about. Then when someone does have the courage to speak up, she is told again and again to just live with it, that it is natural. Nothing about this pain is bearable.”
His fingers tightened over her arms and she clasped them with hers. When he spoke, his voice was low, gravelly and full of pride. Her heart sang at it. “You will succeed, Nikhat. I have no doubt. Draw up a proposal. Vet out some experts in the field that would like to work in Dahaar. Think of every resource that you might need and put it on that proposal. You have my complete backing and my personal fortune at your disposal.”
Tears prickled at the back of her eyes, and this time, she didn’t stem them. They were not borne of pain or grief. Those first couple of years after she had left, being amongst strangers, thinking he was forever gone, she had lost her faith, doubted her ability to do what she had wanted.
The pride shining in his eyes felt like her true prize. He thought she was strong, but hadn’t she always measured her words, her actions, through his eyes, his honor?
“And here I assumed you were an impoverished, deadbeat prince,” she said, laughing through her tears. “I have to remember to be nice to you.”
His mouth curved into a smile, the long sweep of his lashes mesmerizingly beautiful as his gaze widened. “Charming the prince for money? Very disappointing of you, Dr. Zakhari,” he said with mock insult, and she laughed some more.
Giving in to the urge that beat at her relentlessly, she clasped his cheek. Traced his jawline with her thumb, the stubble on it rasping against her skin. She heard his breath hitch as she moved her finger to his mouth, saw the warning flash in his eyes, but she couldn’t stop.
His upper lip had a perfect bow shape to it, while the lower one had an indulgent lushness.
She had wanted to touch him for so long, without shyness, without being consumed by her insecurities. Just for how good it made her feel, just for how right he felt. He clasped her wrist, halting her. “Nikhat? Do not—”
She jerked herself up to a sitting position, traced the seam of his lower lip. His breath hissed out, the cushion of his lip soft and warm against her finger.