I groaned inwardly, trying for a laugh that came out more like a strangled squeak. “Sorry, no time. Go back to sleep.”
He hummed in response, half-amused, half-in dreamland, and I escaped before my resolve could betray me. I caught my reflection in the mirror—hair knotted, lips swollen, eyes soft and terrifyingly bright.
He’d looked at me like I was flourishing last night. Like I was worth touching, worthwanting.
And that was the problem.
Because if Khalifa woke up and looked at me like that again—if he so much as said my name—I wasn’t sure I’d survive pretending it hadn’t meant everything.
The shower was too hot, too honest, every droplet reminding me what I’d done—or rather, whatwe’ddone—hours ago. My skin felt feverish, raw from where his hands had been. Every movement, every inhale, felt threaded with him.
I scrubbed harder than necessary, like I could rinse off the memory of his mouth, his voice, his body. But when my eyes stared at me with accusation through the fogged-up mirror afterward, I still looked the same—hair damp, mouth tingling, limbs wrecked and restless and just a little bit alive.
By the time I’d thrown some clothes on, the clock had declared me late for...well, for nothing, technically. But I couldn’t stay there, not with him sleeping in the bed we’d just—
Yeah,no. Out. Now.
The hospital was less hectic than usual. I couldn’t sit in my office. I couldn’t call Sarah, not after lying to her about what my marriage really was. So I went to the one place where honesty didn’t hurt, where it didn’t have to be spoken at all.
The nursery doors slid open with a light hiss. The air inside was warm, perfumed with talc and faint lavender. A handful of newborns slept beneath little blankets, tiny chests rising and falling with the tranquil rhythm of beginnings.
A nurse glanced up from her clipboard and smiled. “Dr. Tariq. What brings you in?”
I hesitated. “Are any of them...alone?”
Her face softened. “Unclaimed?”
I nodded.
She pointed toward the far corner, where a baby girl slept in a bassinet decorated only with a single pink blanket. “She was left at the ER two nights ago. No name yet, but she’s healthy. They found her a family, but they still haven’t been in to see her.”
I crossed the room. Her baby face was round and impossibly delicate, her lashes like dark crescents on her cheeks.
“Hi there,” I crooned, lifting her and carrying her to the rocking chair. I sank slowly, her tiny hand curling instinctively around my finger. “You’re still nameless. You look like a Noor. You’ll probably grow up to own a bakery in Paris or cure an incurable disease, or maybe just fall in love with a man who brings you coffee every morning without you ever having to ask. That’s a good life, Noor.”
She blinked, mouth forming a small, sleepy “O.”
“I’m sorry your mom left you,” I said. “But there’s a family in the process of adopting you right now, so you won’t be alone forever. You’ll have people who love you, people who stay.” I rocked her gently, the chair creaking beneath us. “I know how it feels to have a mom who didn’t want you, but believe it or not, she’s the person I want to talk to the most right now. My mother and I never did girl talk. When I was getting married, I thought she’d want to prepare me—warn me, maybe. But she didn’t.” My voice faltered. “I texted her a while ago after my mother-in-law passed away, and she never replied.”
Silence wasn’t new between us. She’d been wielding it for years, long before I had the language to name it for what it was. Back when I was a kid, she could go months without speaking tome, withoutlookingat me, like if she erased me hard enough, I might actually disappear.
And sometimes, I almost believed her.
I used to pinch my arm just to be sure—small, secret presses of my fingers against my skin, over and over until I was covered in bruises, like evidence of life.I’m here. I’m here. I’m here.
But this time felt different, because when I lived under the same roof, even her absence had a shape. I still saw her moving through the house, heard the clink of dishes, felt the cold gravity of her presence. It was cruel, yes—but it wassomething. She wasthere. And ifshewas there, thenImust’ve been too.
It turned out that you didn’t need love to tether yourself to someone. My mother’s disdain did the job just fine—an invisible cord pulled taut between us, binding me to her in a way I didn’t know how to undo. Twisted, unkind, but unbreakable all the same. As long as she existed in my orbit, I had proof that I did too.
The nursery blurred suddenly. I blinked fast, but the tears clung to my eyes. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, Noor. I don’t know why she doesn’t like me. And now...” My voice cracked. “Now I was just intimate with my husband for the first time, and I think I’m in love with him, but we said no feelings, so I don’t know what to do or who to talk to. I need my mom, Noor, but she doesn’t need me.”
And the moment the words slipped out, I felt something inside me tilt because they were true. That was the secret rot of having a mother who never really wanted you: you still wanted her. You wanted her in stupid, tender instants like this one. You wanted her opinions, her comfort, her terrible advice. You wanted to call her and whisper,Mama, something happened, like you were fifteen instead of a grown woman with a medical degree and a wedding ring. If I couldn’t talk to myown mother about boys and love and accidentally falling for my husband...then who was I allowed to talk to?
I buried my face in Noor’s little neck and inhaled her delicious new baby scent. She wriggled, warm and alive and completely unbothered by my emotional tailspin. And I let myself imagine—just for a single, impossible second—that maybe this was what it felt like to be loved without earning it. To be someone’s whole world without even trying.
“Sorry,” I said finally, tapping her puny button nose. “You’ve barely been alive, and already some neurotic, emotionally unstable doctor is trauma dumping on you. I just...he said he was attracted to me last night. He said a lot of things, but not the ones that matter.” The chair rocked back and forth, slow and hypnotic. “You can be physically drawn to someone without feeling anything for them emotionally. You’ll learn that when you’re older, but please, learn it faster than I did.” I lifted her higher, meeting her drowsy gaze. “Learn from my mistakes. Don’t get yourself into any sort of arranged marriage. Don’t tell yourself that love is optional—it never is. Every girl wants to be loved, and that’s okay. We deserve to be loved.”
The door opened behind me. A woman stepped inside, clutching her purse to her chest. “Oh—are you her doctor? Is everything okay? They told me I could come see her. I’m going to be adopting her.”
