WHATEVER, POLICE OFFICER

Nineteen.

ADAMAWA STATE, NIGERIA.

Ahmad couldn't leave the hospital, not because anything is stopping him. Nothing is stopping him but concern that enveloped his entire being the minute he read what is really wrong with Fatima. He feels like this is wrong. That he should not leave the hospital without talking to her or at least, check whether she is fine or not.

The doctor might've said she is alright but is it wrong of him to want to confirm it with his bare eyes? He shrugged off the thought and opened the car, hurried back to the hospital and the room Fatima was pushed through earlier. Fortunately, there are no nurses to block his way and the guards Musa Babagana is with didn't stop him either. His aunt is also not there, no hurdles on his way.

Pale walls greeted him along with fluorescent lightening, calm enough to not disturb the patient. Instead of that typical hospital smell, the room actually smells nice. Something along lillies and another strong astringent hand sanitizer that the doctor and nurses had used. The alabaster hospital bed is pushed to the wall where a gargantuan window pose.

Fatima lie on the bed immobile in a tight ball. Her knees are close to her chest while her hand is stuck beside her on the bed with a iv. She looks so small and not so eminent which is a side he's never seen. The vulnerability looks like a parody in all honesty. Fatima shouldn't be associated with the word, she wouldn't like it at all.

He stood motionless, brows tight in concentration. He wants to gauge whether she is awake or not. His eyes narrowed for a few seconds before he concluded that she is sleeping. To his right, the bay window is open and sun rays is streaming into the room without obstruction, he made his way there and close the curtains. He stood there for another minute, thinking what the hell is he doing in her room and why couldn't he just leave the hospital after he's successfully handed her over to the doctor? She wouldn't have helped him had she been the one.

Shaking his head, he paced closer to the bed and check out the heating pad across her back, down her spine around her waist. It is turned off which means it is not doing it's job there. Worried that she might bolt awake due to the pain, he removed the one around her and changed it with another new packaged one. His hands swifts and fast.

It was after he's adjusted the last pin of the heating pad that he realized he just opened her back and did something no non-mahram should've done. He blinked, there hardly was ever that time in his life that he lost control of situations. What is Fatima Musa Babagana turning him into now? She's bringing out so many sides of him he is never concerned about which is starting to worry him.

Thankfully, she is wearing hospital shirt that stopped around her knees and trousers that is way too large for him to see anything. He suspire, that was never his intention so he couldn't recall what he's seen while doing his operation. But damn it, he could feel the hotness, silkiness and softness of her skin underneath his palms! His head throbbed from the left side as something overwhelming urged him, he cannot name what it is but he could feel it all around him.

He couldn't stop himself even if he wanted to. That is how Allah has created him, to help anyone while in distress which is something that has been troubling his life. Whether you slashed his body with an iron rod while he stares at you or murdered him, he would still do good to you when you are in need of it. But why does it feel different for Fatima? He's lost the normal mental focus and rationality, just to make sure she is fine. It makes no sense.

Hearing her soft sigh and moan of gratitude and the way she unfolded her long legs on the bed, he knew he had to leave. If she wakes up and find him there, she won't be grateful for what he's done as he himself is not proud of what he did. So with slow tentative steps, he tiptoed out of the room forgetting his catlike grace won't let her wake up.