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I cough again, but this one doesn’t stop. My chest rattles from the sheer intensity of it. There’s a sharp stabbing pain poking me in the lungs, and it takes every ounce of energy to breathe.
His hand stroking my hair freezes. “Shit. I’ll be right back.”
Rowan places a kiss on my forehead before tugging his phone out of his pocket and exiting the room. His murmurs carry through the door, but it takes too much effort to listen in on his conversation.
I shut my eyes and give in to the darkness pulling me under.
* * *
I wake up to someone opening my eyelids and shining a flashlight on my face. I try to put some room between us, but I only end up falling back on my shaky elbows.
“She’s been sick for three days straight already.”
“Three days?!” I regret the loud shriek as soon as it leaves my mouth. My head and lungs work, revolting against me one cough at a time. The pulsing intensifies the more I hack.
“In my professional opinion, she needs to be taken to a hospital.”
“Hospital?” Rowan and I both speak at the same time. He practically spits the word out.
I look over at him. He looks almost as bad as I feel, with days’ worth of stubble covering his face. The bags under his eyes stand out even more now because of how red his eyes are. He looks like he might keel over any second.
My chest aches for an entirely different reason than my illness.
The doctor stands and packs up his medical bag. “She’s severely dehydrated and needs proper medical care.”
“Anything else you suggest?”
“Based on the symptoms you described and what I see and hear, it’s probably some kind of viral pneumonia. Her tissues are covered with green mucus and she has a fever. If you don’t take her to the hospital tonight, she’s going to end up in the back of an ambulance soon enough.”
Pneumonia?Shit. No. That sounds scary. The only person I know who got pneumonia was one of my parent’s friends and he didn’t make it.
I want to cry, but I don’t think I have enough water in my body to produce tears. I sweat it all out on day two.
While Rowan sees the doctor out, I sit up and fumble for my phone. I should call my parents and let them know about how sick I am. Except I can’t find my phone anywhere within the sheets or on the nightstand.
Did I leave it in the bathroom?I slide out of bed and stand on weak legs. My walk to the bathroom steals all my energy, and the room spins.
I grab the handle for stability and push the door open. My legs give out at the same time, and all I see is black.
42
Rowan
Idismiss the doctor and shut the front door.
Pneumonia?How the hell did Zahra go from making snow angels in Central Park less than a week ago to a nasty case of pneumonia? She went from the sniffles to bedridden faster than I’ve seen anyone decline.
Something thumping against the floor makes the ceiling vibrate.
“Zahra?” I bolt up the stairs and throw open the bedroom door at the end of the hall. The pulse point at my neck throbs to a wickedly fast beat as I walk into the empty bedroom. The sheets are nothing but a haphazard mess, empty of the severely ill woman who should be sleeping.
My eyes snap to the bathroom door.
“Shit!” I don’t think. I don’t breathe. I do nothing but run toward a set of tan legs peeking out from the doorframe. My knees slam into the marble beside a small puddle of blood.
“Zahra? Zahra! Are you okay?” My voice croaks.
I drag her useless body into my arms. With a shaky hand, I swipe her hair away from her face. She’s pale.Toopale. Like the life was drained out of her somehow within the five minutes I went to show the doctor out. I’m pretty sure a piece of my frozen heart shatters right off.
