It was the dead of the night when she stirred in her sleep. The yellow side lamp offered dismal light against the dark. She felt weak, as if someone had sucked the soul out of her. But she also felt oddly peaceful. As if her racing, overworked heart had been put to sleep. Did she finally escape? Was it over?
But when she opened her eyes she was greeted with that all too familiar sight.
Resting in the armchair next to the bed, he had his eyes closed, as if sleep had won over a long conflict with exhaustion. The glistening light cast a breathtaking chairoscuro over his regal features. Even after so long Layla could never get used to the sight of him.
Even asleep he looked invincible, the dark velvet coat and mandarin collars, the diamond cufflinks, and the signet ring that told a tale of generational aristocracy. A paragon of such perfection, it was formidable. But only on a deeper look could one find any flaw, any glimpse into his iron-clad persona, like the unbuttoned collars, the messily tied balmorals, and the dark hair still damp from the shower as if he’d rushed there without drying it, too terrified to leave her out of his sight again.
In a state of slumber, her drowsy, drugged mind scoffed. Did he follow her into hell?
But that’s not possible. Her brows furrowed. Something not settling right.
And then it hit her.
She looked down at her wrist, the bandage neatly tied around it while her other arm was attached to multiple IVs.
No…
Qais woke up to see her getting off the bed and attempting to walk away. He rushed forth just as a wave of weakness washed over her making her stumble back. She pulled away from his touch instantly.
She had ripped the bandages off her making the stitches bleed through. Qais grunted in anger and concern.
“What did you do??” He pulled her by the uninjured hand to the bed before she had any chance to free herself. Either oblivious or unbothered by her aversion, he held her injured hand tenderly in his, wrapping a fresh bandage around it with all the care and attention in the world.
Layla watched him with surprise. He looked so worried. It made her feel all the worse. Because she couldn’t blame him even if she wanted to. She only had her fate to blame, and there was only one way out of it.
“Why, why did you save me?”
Qais’s expressions shifted. He saw the same coldness and emptiness in her eyes that surrounded her when she laid almost lifeless in the washroom. He didn’t like it one bit. He looked away unable to stand those hazel eyes for once.
“You aren’t feeling well right now, you should get some rest.”
“You should’ve never saved me.” She continued. “Not that night, and not today.”
Qais felt like someone was stabbing thorns into his throat. The mere thought that he was merely seconds away from losing her was enough to make him lose his mind.
“If I had died back then I would not yearn to die right now.” The pain overflowed into sobs, “They would not hate me so much. And… it wouldn’t hurt so much.” Her voice broke down in utter pain. It was as if someone had been constantly eating bits and bits of her way, only now that only a shell of her remained it had become unbearable.
“I can’t… I can’t live like this.” Her words turned more and more frantic by the moment. Qais was surprised as she began picking at the bandage with trembling fingers.
“Stop it.”
“I can’t..I can’t…”
“Layla.”
YOU ARE READING
QAIS
Romance"She was his mirage, a dream he could only chase. He was her living hell, a nightmare she could not escape." Layla Mustafa is the only girl in her family allowed to go to university. Belonging to a strict patriarchal background, Layla, the shy and s...
