Page 67 of Love and War

“Yes, sir, she’s aware. I’m sorry but I have other patients.” Rushing off, I was left staring at the wall.

Aziza, my Aziza, was pregnant.

With my child.

And she was trying to leave.

“Why are you frowning?” she asked, breaking me from my thoughts, and nudging me with her foot.

“I like this movie,” I said, grabbing her good foot and massaging the sole of it.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re frowning.”

“I think it’s just my face.” I had to think if I wanted to confront her about it or just wait until she finally told me.

If she told me.

Aziza huffed, rolled her eyes, and turned back towards the TV. After a moment she tried snatching her foot away from my hands.

“Aziza,” I growled, firmly gripping her ankle.

“You don’t need to rub my feet,” she muttered, not daring to look at me.

“You’re right, I don’t.” She tensed, eyeing me out of the corner. “But I want to, moya Printsessa. I like touching you and I want to rub your feet.”

Rolling her eyes, she once again went back to focusing on the TV, watching her favorite movie.

As I continued massaging, moving to her ankles, and even her toes, I could feel the scars on them. She not only danced but took ballet. She did every sort of dance you could think of. I remembered her limping when we were kids from the bruises that covered her feet and legs. And now she couldn’t dance, she no longer could do the one thing she loved.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I blurted out.

Turning her head towards me, she furrowed her brows. Confused.

Well, I was already there. Might as well continue down this path.

“Salem told me what Holly did,” I stated. “The fact she shoved you down the stairs and you broke your hip.” It was either talk about her hip or her being pregnant.

Aziza instantly tensed, her eyes welling up with tears. Now I felt like an asshole. I mean, I was. But I needed to know why she didn’t tell me, why she’s keeping all these secrets from me.

You’re hiding too,my brain reminded me.

“Can you tell me what happened?” I asked, rubbing my thumbs into her soles.

“We fought, she got mad and shoved me, the end.” She couldn’t meet my eyes.

“Let’s make a deal.” I had no idea if this was going to be a good one or an idea that came back to bite me in the ass. “You ask a question, and I answer with the truth. I ask, you answer.”

Aziza twisted her fingers together, thinking rather harder than necessary. “Sure.”

“What happened?” I asked.

Rolling her eyes, she sighed before answering. “We were arguing, the reason isn’t important. But she said something that hurt my feelings, so I returned the favor. And she didn’t take it lightly, so she shoved me. I, uh, tried to grab the railing, but it was too late, and I fell.” Shifting uncomfortably, her eyes darted anywhere else. “I broke my hip, and well it took her longer than needed to call nine-one-one. She said I tripped, and I was too drugged out to tell them the truth until Salem was able to get me.”

“When?” I gritted out. I wanted to know exactly when this happened. I was going to kill her. Murder her and watch the blood drain from her body.

Again, Aziza couldn’t meet my eyes when she mumbled, “Six years ago.”

“How long after?”

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