Chapter 21 - Nora
I am absolutely exhausted. The kind of emotional and physical exhaustion that has settled deep in my bones, like a weight I can’t shake. A hard, double shift in the NICU always does this to me—too many tiny lives to care for, too many alarms, too many moments of holding my breath, praying the numbers on the monitors will hold steady.
After getting the results I have been hoping for, passing my exam, I have stepped into my new role as leader on shift. But despite the exhaustion, all I want is Sayid. His touch, his warmth, the way he makes the rest of the world disappear when he pulls me against him, grounding me back to him. I crave every moment we are together, not just the intimacy in bed, but also the day to day conversations and small gestures he continues to show me.
He has provided everything for me over the past few days. As much as I enjoy my work, I also can’t wait to get back to him. My personal security leaves me at the doors of the hospital, allowing my own space and identity to remain mine while inside, but they are there as soon as I depart to resume their job. Despite how serious they take their role, even Rome has started to say a couple of words here and there.
I let myself exhale as I step into the penthouse, already unzipping my hoodie, ready to drop it somewhere on the way to him. But the moment I do, I notice the way Sayid is standing near the kitchen island, arms folded, something tense in his posture.
A white box sat on the counter. Not another one. I stop short, and his eyes flick to me. That unreadable, assessing gaze, sharp but steady. “Another delivery?” My voice comes out tighter than I intended.
Sayid nods once. “Security checked it first. Thought it was from Dr. Kasey.” I swallow, forcing myself to take another step forward. “It is the same type of packaging as the other one.” His jaw flexes slightly, deep in thought before he continues. “But when they opened it, it wasn’t anything they thought was concerning. Just a picture of you and Liam. Not from Ian.”
That gave me pause. “A picture?” He turns the frame toward me, setting it down for me to see. I step closer, and my stomach twists the moment my eyes land on it. Not possible.
It is my absolute favorite picture of Liam and I. We were in middle school, and our travel baseball team had just won a state championship. I still remember the way the sun felt that day, the heat of summer on my skin, and the pure happiness I shared with Liam.
Liam had lifted me up onto his shoulders, my arms raised high as I held the first-place trophy. We are grinning, covered in dirt and sweat, yet victorious. This was the height of our friendship. And this picture perfectly captured the comfort and love that we shared with each other.
I reach out, running my fingers along the glass, and I push the nostalgia away because this picture shouldn’t be here. Panic begins to wash over me.
Sayid watches me closely. “I figured it was from Liam. A sentimental gesture perhaps—”
“No,” I whisper harshly, cutting him off. A sharp, uneasy pit forming in my stomach. “He doesn’t have a copy of this. I am the only one with this photo.” I feel a wave of anxiety hitting so hard it is making me sick. Sayid’s expression darkens.
I swallow hard, trying to keep myself rooted in the moment. Realization is pressing down hard on me. “This was in my apartment. In my closet. In a photo album, still packed away from my last move. I haven’t seen this in years...” I barely get it out, and next thing I know, the room feels like it is closing in on me. My head is spinning, the room is spinning, I can’t breathe, and then there is this ringing in my ears before I start to collapse.
Sayid’s arms enclose around me, grounding me against him before I completely pass out. “Hayati!” He practically growls as he catches me, the concern deep in his voice. He whispers a prayer in Arabic, so quietly, I can’t tell exactly what he is saying.
He scoops me up into his arms, cradling me against his chest as he carries me over to the couch. Hit sits down, but keeps me tight against his chest so that I am sitting on his lap. I sit up slightly, looking up into his dark protective eyes that are full of concern. And before I can control myself, I press my lips against his.
My kiss is full of need, but his is full of restraint. I have wanted to feel him all day, and now I need to feel his grounding connection more than ever. His lips tenderly match mine, and his tongue slowly searches over mine. Once I know everything is going to be alright, I break our connection so we can talk.
“The picture isn’t from Dr. Kasey, or Liam, it is from Tyson.” I am absolutely certain. I feel Sayid tense beneath me, I can feel the rage coiling in his chest. “But strangely enough, I did get something else from Dr. Kasey at work today.” Sayid’s eyes search mine in anticipation.
“He had a coffee delivered to me at the nurses station, with a note. The coffee was to get me through my first double shift as lead in the NICU…and he said he is looking forward to hearing all about it at lunch later this week.” The air in the penthouse shifts, thickening like a storm about to break.
“I threw them both directly into the trash. Shamsi, I have no intention of having…” Sayid silences my explanation with a kiss.
“Qamari, you do not need to say anything else. I know your heart, you are a part of me now.” Sayid rests his forehead against mine for a moment before kissing my forehead. Then he shifts me next to him so he can get up. His hand is already pulling his phone out of his jacket pocket. “Do you want to stay here and sleep, or do you want to come with me to your apartment?”
As exhausted as I am, I have a new surge of energy. I know I won’t be able to rest until I have more information on what was going on. I don’t even have to say it. One look up into Sayid’s waiting gaze is enough, and he holds out his hand to help me up.
∞∞∞
From the moment we step inside my apartment, something feels off. I haven’t been back here at all since the first time I packed my bag of necessities. Sayid is my home now, and I do not want to spend a single night away from him. We have already planned on boxing up anything remaining that I wanted to keep, and having it brought over to the penthouse. The remaining furnishings would be donated.
Everything appears to be normal, in its place, but as I move into the bedroom, heading straight for the closet, my skin crawls. I pull out the old photo album that is carefully tucked away in a box, in the back of the closet. Flipping through pages with quick fingers, my breath catches when I reach the spot where the photo should have been.
It is gone. Instead, in its place, is a folded piece of paper. My hands shake as I pull it out. I open it, hesitantly, and see Tyson’s scribble across the page.
Even back then I desired you, and I knew you were mine. Just thinking about the fight you have always had burning in your eyes makes me hard. No one can keep us apart. No one will take you from me. I should have never let you leave. You know exactly where you belong.
I hand over the note to Sayid, barely registering my own reaction. I am going to be sick. I sprint into the bathroom. Barely making it to the toilet before I start heaving. Sayid follows, his arms wrap around my waist, holding me up.
When I finish, I flush, close the lid, and sit down. Sayid gets a washcloth, and wets it before wiping my face for me. His touch and his eyes are nothing but tender. However, I can sense the stiffness in his body, and the rage he is caging inside.
Once he is finished, he turns back to the sink, his knuckles crack as he clenches his fists. Sayid’s eyes are locked on his reflection in the mirror, something terrifyingly quiet has settled over him—too quiet. Like he is struggling to hold something back, something violent, something unstoppable.
I know exactly what this means. Tyson has been here. In my space. He has gone through my things, taken my picture, and replaced it with his message. This isn’t a warning. This is an attempt at a claim, built entirely in some sick delusion.
“Sayid—”
“He’s dead.” The words are low, even, but threaded with an unshakable promise. His fury is coiled, but barely leashed, restrained only because I am here. Because he knew if he let it slip, he wouldn’t be able to pull it back until Tyson was taken care of.
“I shouldn’t have pulled back the security detail from here. He slipped right past me.” Sayid turns back towards me and drops to his knees, taking my hands in his. “I am sorry Qamari. I promise you, he will be taken care of.” A sense of relief cascades around me. Because if Sayid says it, I already know it is going to happen one way or another. He had given his final warning, and he is going to take care of things now, his way.