It was simple. She’d buy a test and find out, once and for all. It wouldn’t be dramatic or hard, it was simply the easiest way to resolve this niggling worry. Besides, she couldn’t take a day trip while she wondered.
She certainly couldn’t enjoy that bottle of wine if she wondered, either.
It’s fine. Your body is just adjusting. Remember that time you went to England and your period disappeared for two months afterward? She reassured herself on her way to the corner store, which also had a small pharmacy inside. A blast of cool, dry air met her as she pushed into the store. She browsed each aisle until she found what she was looking for, the telltale rectangular box with a picture on the front showing a positive test result. She paid quickly and hurried back to her apartment, heart knocking against her ribs.
Your body is just adjusting. She repeated it like a mantra. She couldn’t be pregnant. She wouldn’t be pregnant. Because that wasn’t in her plans, and it was very likely never to be in her future.
Settling down and having someone’s baby—that had never been part of her life plan. Not since she’d realized at age sixteen that she could go anywhere, be anyone, do literally anything she wanted and to hell with anyone who told her otherwise. Her family’s urgings to settle down and start a family only pushed her in the opposite direction. She was the girl who quit the corporate life to go gallivanting around the world during her prime childbearing years. Even though sometimes you get stuck in another corporate job immediately after.
She ripped open the packaging, fumbling to find the English section of the instructions sheet. Maybe it wasn’t stress or long-distance moves; maybe she had cysts or something. That could be it. Her finger trembled as she underlined the English directions. This might just be cysts after all.
The sheet told her to wait until morning for the best results, but she didn’t have time. Tomorrow morning, she’d either be day-tripping or crying into her pillow. It had to be now.
She stumbled toward the bathroom on Jello knees and perched over the stick, grunting as she tried to force a pee. Finally a trickle emerged, and she aimed it just right. She doused the stick, and then she waited.
Layla didn’t even get up from the toilet as she waited for the stick to tell her her fate. She clutched at her hair, heart hammering in her throat, counting seconds so she didn’t peek too soon and see a wrong result.
When an eternity of seconds had crept by, she finally allowed herself the answer. She snatched up the stick, her belly tight with tension as she looked at the small window.
Two lines.
She blinked a few times, letting the news wash over her. A strange cocktail of emotions burbled through her, but she couldn’t make sense of that now.
The test clattered to the floor and she yanked her pants up, running to her phone. She needed Marian, wherever she was. And she just prayed to God she picked up.
8
Zahir’s gut felt tense as he locked up his office prior to the weekend. He’d stayed late to finish up a few pending reports for Omar during his absence. Of course Omar had taken the longest honeymoon known to mankind, but Zahir could hardly blame him. Their travel route was admirable and even something of his own fantasy. Hell, getting out of the country more often was becoming more and more of a scandalous thought. Almost as scandalous as his constant thoughts of Layla.
His gut wrenched again. It was like he couldn’t help but link everything back to her, so much that he wondered if he needed to call her. Maybe she was in trouble somewhere, and this was her signal for help.
Are you crazy? Two full weeks of minimal contact hadn’t lessened his urges or attraction any more than it had before; it simply made it necessary to distract himself. Which, thankfully, came in the form of work. And masturbation. Lots of masturbation.
A familiar gruff voice interrupted his quiet walk down the hallway. His father curled a finger in the air, beckoning for him to follow. Zahir altered his path to go to his father’s office.
“I’m surprised you’re here this late,” Zahir said, closing the door behind him.
“I just got off the phone with an important person.” His father’s eyes twinkled as he sat behind his desk. “I would have called you if I hadn’t found you leaving the office. I have some news for you.”
There was a note of joviality in his father’s voice, one that Zahir wasn’t accustomed to hearing. This was either a huge business deal or…he couldn’t even guess what might make his father this giddy. “Do tell.”
“Zahir, my son, I think it’s time that we begin to prepare for you to assume control here.”
The words floated heavily in the air, like a tanker in the ocean. Zahir tapped out a slow rhythm on the ar
m rest of his chair, struggling to fully process the words.
“I’m flattered.” Of course, he’d known this day would come. He just hadn’t expected it so soon.
“You’re flattered, and you’re readier than ever. We’ve been preparing you for this day. I have full confidence that everything will go smoothly, but we should begin the transition immediately.” His father paused, clearing his throat, ensuring perfect delivery. “And part of that preparation includes your getting married.”
Every bone and cell inside Zahir’s body froze. He reluctantly met his father’s stern gaze. “Ah.” Married. Fuck. He’d avoided it long enough. As a bachelor thirty-three-year-old, he was practically a unicorn in his country. With his two younger brothers already married, sometimes it felt a little embarrassing. Not that he minded continuing his bachelor life in any way.
“I’ve arranged a bride for you.” A grin flickered on his father’s face. “She’s a beautiful girl, very smart, unspoiled—” That was code for virgin. “Absolutely perfect for you. And this arrangement will greatly satisfy some of our board members.”
Zahir’s gaze swept over the desktop, focusing on the dark stain of the wood. There were so many elaborate swirls there. Far too many to even count. And suddenly, he was far more interested in counting the swirls than continuing this conversation. “I—I’m not sure what to say.”
“Say you’re ready to set a date.” His father leaned forward a bit. “If we hurry, it could be before the end of the year.”