Desert Heat

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: SICK BED

King Aziz had ordered the entire floor that his wife was held on to be closed off; no one could come in or out unless authorized by King Aziz himself. His wife, Lily, had been held at the hospital for the past three hours, and still there was no news from the doctors.

King Aziz tried his best to remain calm, but he could not help himself as he paced the floor of the waiting room. The guard had come earlier to inform him that his wife had fallen ill, and without thinking, he rushed to her side, but she was already brought to the hospital.

"My king, I think it is best that you sit down and relax." Fahd advised him, but Aziz was in no mood to listen to a single word that his trusted guard had to say to him. The very last thing that King Aziz wanted to do was sit down, as his wife's health was his only concern at this point.

The door to Lily's room flung open, and the doctor walked out, without thinking about anything further, King Aziz dashed towards the doctor.

"Doctor, what is wrong with my wife?" King Aziz asked the doctor, who was startled by the king's appearance before him.

"Greetings, my king, and—" the doctor tried to speak, but King Aziz was in no mood to entertain the doctor's formalities.

"Doctor, I have no need for your greetings; what I want to know is how my wife is fairing." King Aziz was irritable and informed the doctor. The doctor looked scared; he knew what would happen if he ever got on the wrong side of the king.

"Well, my king, your wife is okay; we have placed her on the drip, and hopefully within a few hours she will recover." The doctor informed him. Hearing that his wife would be all right calmed his heart, but he still had many more questions to ask the doctor.

"Doctor, what made my wife faint like that?" King Aziz asked the doctor, and the doctor's eyes widened, and for a moment, he said nothing, which only infuriated the King more.

"I'm sorry, my king—the queen suffered from exhaustion and dehydration, but she will be okay; all she needs is to relax." The doctor informed him, and King Aziz nodded his head in agreement. The doctor said his goodbyes and walked away, leaving only Fahd and King Aziz in the waiting room.

"My king, I think it is best if you go and see your wife," Fahd informed the king. He did not need to be told that he needed to see his wife; seeing her was all that he wanted to do ever since he was informed of her illness.

Without another word from the doctor, King Aziz walked towards his wife's hospital room and unlocked the door. From the entrance of the room, he saw his wife, who lay on the bed just like a sleeping beauty.

King Aziz quickened his steps and sat down next to his wife on her bed, looking at all the tubes running from the machines and, at the end, a needle inserted into her arm. She was fast asleep and barely moving. Guilt gripped King Aziz's heart. He blamed himself for what his wife was going through; somehow, no accusation brought against her mattered because for that split second, all he cared about was getting his wife back to her old self again.

King Aziz took his wife's hand in his, and her once warm hands were now as cold as ice, and fear gripped King Aziz. He hated that his wife was on the bed, almost dead.

But you sentenced her to death in three days' time. King Aziz's mind tortured him, and now it hit him that he was truly responsible for his wife's death. King Aziz stood up from the bed and stormed out of the room, where he met Fahd, his personal bodyguard.

"I need your advice." King Aziz asked Fahd, and this had the older man raise his eyebrows at Aziz. Aziz had always asked the older man's advice, but it had been a while since he had asked Fahd's advice.