Under That Niqab

66. My fault

She found herself captivated by the sight of his face, taking in every detail for this was the longest time she was staring at his face up close. His eyes seemed to carry the weight of exhaustion, with faint shadows beneath them revealing the toll of weariness. His complexion, once radiant, had lost some of its colors, lending a paleness that contrasted against his features.

As she observed him, her surroundings started to transform, as if the world itself responded to the unveiling of her worry. Was he sick?

He was quite alright in the evening though, she watched at the weight of his weariness, he seemed to have fallen asleep, and she felt a surge of empathy and affection welling up within her. She longed to ease his burdens, to wipe away the fatigue etched upon his features, and to offer him solace in her gentle embrace. It was a profound realization that she cared deeply for this man, beyond the bounds of obligation.

Now that she pondered, she never saw him take proper rest since their wedding, he would either be working or tending to her, there was no in-between.

She felt grateful but guilt wrapped over her, how could she have overlooked his needs for so long? How could she have failed to notice the toll it had taken on him?

"Sha-"she tried to whisper softly, her voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. She hesitated, torn between the desire to let him rest undisturbed and the need to address her concerns.

Gently, she stroked his hair, her fingertips tracing a path of tenderness along, wanting to wake him up, not because her legs were going numb, no, she could bare that for the entire night to pass if it meant for him to get a much needed peaceful sleep, but she had to check on him about was wrong.

Summoning her courage, she gently shook him, her touch a delicate awakening from the realm of dreams "Shavez" she called.

He stirred, but his movements were slow and heavy as if he was reluctant to leave the solace of his slumber. His eyes fluttered open, revealing a drowsy gaze that gradually focused on her face.

"Mhm, yes, darling," he mumbled, his voice laced with sleepiness.

She leaned closer, her eyes searching his for any signs of distress. "Are you okay? You seemed restless," she inquired with genuine worry.

Shavez blinked a few times, trying to clear the fog of sleep from his mind. His brow furrowed as he gathered his thoughts. "I... I don't know," he admitted. "My head aches"

She gently pressed her hand against his forehead to gauge his temperature. As her palm made contact with his skin, she noted the warmth radiating from his forehead. Worried lines formed on her face as she realized he might be running a fever.

"It seems like you have a fever," she said. "Let me get you some water and a cool towel to help bring down your temperature. Will you?"

"Too tired" He mumbled not wanting to let go of the warmth of her embrace.

"It's alright," she reassured him, understanding his fatigue and reluctance to let go of the comforting embrace. Realizing the urgency to cool his fever, she decided to adapt to the situation. With the water bottle already within reach on the nearby table, she grabbed it and fetched a small portion of her cotton shawl.

Gently, she moistened the fabric with cool water, ensuring it was damp but not dripping. Carefully, she placed the makeshift cool compress on his forehead, providing a soothing sensation to alleviate his discomfort.

"Haya, sweetheart" He spoke in a whisper,

His voice enchanted her, bewitched, and compelled her to mutter, "I'm here"