“Store the soup in the fridge.” She managed as he pushed her down on the bed, switched on the AC and shook the thick blanket open for her.
“Ok.”
“And close the sink tap tight, it leaks.” She lay down.
“Ok.” He threw the blanket over her and tucked it in.
“I have left a bottle of water and glass for you on the TV table.”
“Amaal?”
“What?” Her eyebrows were knitted, her eyes gone small already.
“Sleep.”
She turned away from him, burrowed into her pillow and nodded.
————————————————————
“Amaal?” A hand patted her cheek.
“Mmmmm…” she groaned. Her throat was aching.
“Amaal, get up. We need to go for a blood test.”
“Nnnn…” she pulled the blanket over her head. “Fever…”
“I know.” He pulled the blanket down slowly. She squeezed her eyes tighter, hating him.
“Come, the fever is high. It’s malaria. It will come positive right now.” He began to raise her by her shoulders.
“Samar no!” She resisted.
“Amaal.”
She opened her eyes at that stern tone. The lights were off, the curtains drawn. She couldn’t see much of him.
“It’s night… We’ll go tomorrow.”
“It’s morning.”
“Huh?”
His thumbs found her closed eyelids and massaged them. She slapped at his wrists, kept slapping with both hands but he kept rubbing them clean. And her sleep was instantly gone. The bad fevery feeling wasn’t.
“Samar!!!” She yelled. Her eyes tore open.
“It’s 6.30. Come on, your fever has been rising steadily for the last two hours. I waited to wake you up.”
She mock-cried. “No!”
“Get up and wash your face or…”
“Or what?”
“I’ll stick you into a cold tub.”
“Go fill it.” She turned and began to pull the blanket back.
