Every hour, he looks worse. Weak. Feverish. The harsh scent of blood fills the car.
“You need medical attention.”
“I’ll live,” he grunts.
“You can barely sit up straight. How much longer until we meet up with your friends?”
He checks his watch, blinking hard like he cannot quite focus. “They’ll be hours away by now. But we’ll stop in ten minutes so I can get comms working.”
“We are not meeting them?”
“No.”
My eyes burn from lack of sleep. With every breath, my shoulder aches, and I have no idea where in Afghanistan we are. Or where we are going.
“Why not?”
“Safer.”
His one-word answers are getting tiresome, but he saved our lives. If I make trouble, he could leave us in the middle of the desert. Without water, without shelter, without any way to survive. We are driving in circles—I think—which means we are not far enough from myhusbandand his men for me to feel safe.
Nowhere is safe. Not from Faruk. He will never let Mateen go.
Tears burn the corners of my eyes. What have I done? He will punish me for this. Severely.
The one time I tried to escape—only weeks after he brought me to Afghanistan—he broke three of my ribs, my right arm, and my collarbone. When I refused to marry him—to sign the marriage certificate in front of the Imam—he sent me to the old well in the middle of the compound for so long, I forgot what it was like to see the sun. Zaman dragged me out of there covered in scorpion stings, delirious with fever.
For this? For taking his son from him?
He will kill me.
After another ten minutes, Nomar pulls the car behind an old stone hut missing half its roof.
“Stay here.” He leaves the engine running, goes to the trunk, and rummages around inside.
My heart races, the seconds stretching into what feels like an eternity. I glance back at my sleeping son, then ease the passenger door open. Nomar is on his knees behind the car, trembling.
“Merde!” I try to get him to his feet, but he hisses out a breath and shakes his head. “You cannot die on us. Let me help you!”
“And do…what? You’re…not a doctor.”
“My son has an incurable illness and his fatherrarelyallowed him to be treated at a hospital. And I have eyes. It is obvious you are losing too much blood.”
Dropping down next to him, I pull up his tunic. His black shirt is plastered to his side. If he dies…we will be alone. I cannot let that happen.
“Off with this.”
“Not here. Not yet.”
“Zut alors!Not yet? How much longer do you want to wait?” I unpin my headscarf, the soft, black material sliding through my fingers.
Only the best for the Amir’s wife. The best clothes, the best food. The best beatings.
“Get up. Lean against the car.”
It takes him three attempts to stand, but when he does, he meets my gaze. His dark eyes are full of pain.
Passing the silky fabric behind his back, I step close enough to scent him. Sweat, blood, but something more. Something comforting andreal. I have not been this close to another since Faruk took me. He would fly into a rage if I evenlookedat anyone but him. Yet with Nomar, I feel safe in a way I have not felt in more than ten years.
