He looks genuinely embarrassed. “You’re right. It’s nothing against you. I did come to check if you were okay.”
She sighs. “I am, thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take a shower.”
I watch her walk away, then I take a step in his direction. “Never speak to Madeline like that again or you’ll regret it.”
He doesn’t seem fazed. “Is what she said true? About you having no contract this time?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, it’s true. We are together.”
He laughs. “How long will that last? Soon you’ll have to find a wife, and Madeline will be history. I’ll be there to console her.” He walks away before I can react.
I could correct him, but I don’t. It’s not anyone’s business if Madeline is pregnant or not.
“What was that between you two?” Irfan asks. “The arguments seem to be escalating. They’re getting worse. Ourab[12] won’t be happy when she hears about this cold war between you two.”
“Since when were we best friends?”
“You were never declared enemies either.”
“He disrespected Madeline.”
For the first time since he arrived, Irfan smiles. “I never thought I’d live to see you jealous of a woman. So it’s serious?”
“What part of ‘we are together’ don’t you understand?”
“You’ve been with more women than I can remember. One for each month of the year. So don’t get pissed if I find this change in behavior strange.”
“Madeline is different.”
“Alright. I won’t meddle. She seems like a nice girl.” He pauses. “Too nice to be hurt, Kamal. Sweet and very young. Think carefully about what you’re doing.”
He leaves, and I head inside to find her.
When I open the door to the bathroom, Madeline is facing away from me, naked, water cascading down her beautiful body.
I remove my swim trunks and join her, circling her with my arms from behind.
“I don’t want to be the cause of fights between you and Zarif.”
“Forget about it. It has nothing to do with you.”
She turns in my arms to face me. “Why do you two always seem ready to pounce on each other?”
“I don’t want to talk about him anymore,jamilati.”
“What does that mean?”
“My beautiful.”
She smiles. “What if I want to call you that too?”
“Then it would bewasimi, but it doesn’t suit me.”
“Why not?”
“I’m a Sheikh. Powerful, virile. There aren’t enough words.”
As expected, she bursts into laughter, and the worried expression disappears.
