But what was there to understand? Sex made babies. She had had sex.
She and Zafir had made—
No.
But as the days wore on and the tenderness in her breasts became nearly unbearable and her churning stomach couldn’t be blamed solely on worry, she accepted that she was as bad as—quite possibly worse than—her mother. Fern, at least, had had the benefit of her mother’s lectures. She should have known better.
The final straw was a pronouncement by Amineh. When she arrived for the girls, she looked as washed out as Fern felt. The girls ran to their quarters to change while Amineh huffed out an exhausted breath.
“Ra’id told me Zafir was talking about arranging another marriage for himself, to the daughter of one of his challengers. Brilliant, I said. I want peace in Q’Amara as much as he does, but if he thinks I’m putting myself through another wedding before this baby comes out— Oh, I’ve shocked you.” Amineh’s hand came onto her arm. “I thought you might have guessed after I nearly fainted on you this morning. You sounded so sympathetic, like you knew what I was going through in this heat.”
“Oh, no, I—” Fern was dumbfounded. Part of her went into cardiac arrest at what else she might have betrayed by being “sympathetic,” the rest was screaming in agony at what Amineh had just told her. She did her best to shake it all off. “No, I honestly didn’t realize,” she said. She’d been too obsessed with the possibility she was pregnant herself. “That’s wonderful. Congratulations.”
She hugged Amineh and couldn’t help the tears that came into her eyes. Expecting with her friend was so perfect, yet such a disaster.
“Oh, Fern, you really are the sweetest person, crying for me. Honestly, I feel like crying myself. I’m so tired, and look! Barely six weeks and I feel like I’m beginning to show. Nothing fits right. Ra’id is being a gem, making my excuses and promising me that after this, we’re home for a year, but we have another two weeks of this nonsense.”
Fern could only offer a shaky smile, wishing the father of her baby would be a gem and look after her, but he had an entire country to worry about.
And he was getting married.
That night she cried until her throat burned and woke to such a violent bout of morning sickness, she knew she could be found out. As much as she wanted to tell Zafir, she couldn’t. Not like this, from a country where her condition, especially as an unmarried woman, could be seen as a crime. What if someone found out? What if he didn’t care?
Staring at her ravaged face the next morning, she knew what she had to do. She was a terrible liar, but at least her emotions were on such a seesaw, her anxiety so very real, that when she requested a meeting with Ra’id, she looked convincingly distraught.
“I’ve had some bad news from home. A dear friend. She’s like a mother to me.” Miss Ivy was perfectly fine, as far as Fern knew, but as Fern considered the way she’d derailed this wonderful career she’d been given, fresh tears came into her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I need to return to England immediately.”
Amineh was out with the girls and other women from the wedding party. Fern had planned it that way, unable to speak her bald-faced lies directly to someone she considered a true friend. Especially when she’d betrayed that friendship by sleeping with Amineh’s brother.
It was far easier to let Ra’id recoil from her display of feminine emotions, snap into making arrangements and put her on a plane within the hour. She promised she would be in touch about her return, claiming it shouldn’t be more than a week or two.