Page 47 of Wild Card (The Trident Trilogy 3)

Sarajevo, Bosnia, 1995

“Where is Aza?” Nejra groaned as tears streamed down her face. She had been in labor most of the day but had tried to ignore it. The baby wasn’t due for another month. Within the last hour, the pain had gotten so much worse. With every contraction, she seemed to lose a little more touch with reality.

“Nejra, you know she went back to Pakistan for her father’s funeral.” Sayid was trying to calm her down, but panic was starting to rise in his voice. “She left a week ago. Do you remember?”

Nejra screamed as the next contraction hit. “The baby is coming too early. Make it stop.”

“Go get Mrs. Hadzic,” Sayid said to Amar. “She’s done this before. We need her.”

“Sayid, are you sure?” Amar said, cringing as Nejra screamed again. “She will tell her husband. You know how he will react—what he will expect of you.”

“We don’t have a choice.” Sayid said as he lightly brushed the sweat off Nejra’s forehead. “She will die here if we don’t do something.”

Amar took one more look at Nejra’s anguished face and then rushed out the door.

“Mrs. Hadzic will help us,” Sayid whispered to Nejra. “It will all be fine. Keep your mind on Italy. We will be there with the baby soon.”

After Nejra waited months for Mack to respond to her letter, she reluctantly agreed to marry Amar two days ago. She knew it was the only way to survive. After the baby was born, they were moving to Italy. Although she wasn’t happy about marrying Amar, Nejra was excited for a fresh start in another country.

Sayid turned toward the door as Mrs. Hadzic rushed in. She glared at Sayid but softened her face as she approached Nejra.

“Nejra,” she said softly. “I am here now. Everything is going to work out. The baby is just eager to see you.”

Nejra smiled slightly through her tears as she nodded at Mrs. Hadzic.

“Get me hot water, clean towels, and a sterilized knife,” Mrs. Hadzic said to Sayid and Amar. “Now!”

Sayid and Amar ran out of the bedroom door to the kitchen. When they returned with the supplies, Nejra had her legs propped up on the bed with Mrs. Hadzic looking between them. They both stopped in their tracks.

Mrs. Hadzic glared at them. “It is a baby being born—a natural process. Get yourselves together and help me. Sayid, support Nejra’s back.”

“She is my wife,” Amar said quickly. “I will do that.”

Mrs. Hadzic turned her head to him. “Your wife? And when did this happen?”

“Almost a year ago—in a private ceremony.” Amar sat down on the bed and wrapped his arms around Nejra’s shoulders.

Mrs. Hadzic nodded, but she could tell from the awkward way he touched her that he was lying. She knew she would have to tell her husband about all of this. And she also knew what that would likely mean, but she didn’t have time to consider it now. Nejra’s mother had been her best friend. She had to try to keep her daughter alive.

“The baby’s head is showing, Nejra,” Mrs. Hadzic said. “I need you to push as hard as you can.”

“I’m so tired,” Nejra whined as she tried to breathe through the pain.

“Nejra,” Sayid said as he took her hand again. “Forget everything and everybody except me. We will do this together. Squeeze my hand as hard as you can and push with everything you have inside of you.”

Nejra nodded as she locked her eyes with his and pushed. After several tries, she heard a cry. She opened her eyes and looked down. Mrs. Hadzic was wrapping her baby in towels.

“Is he alive?” Nejra said softly.

“It is a girl. She is alive and healthy.” Mrs. Hadzic smiled. “Maybe a little bit small, but big enough to survive on her own.”

The baby wailed as Mrs. Hadzic wiped her face gently. “She seems to have a lot to say already,” Mrs. Hadzic said. “She takes after your mother.”

“Yes, I think she does,” Nejra said quietly as Mrs. Hadzic laid the baby on her chest. “I’m going to name her after Momma. She looks like a Yasmine.”

Mrs. Hadzic looked at Sayid and Amar. “Please take all of these dirty towels and destroy them. Don’t throw them out. Destroy them. I’m going to stay the night with Nejra to make sure the baby stays healthy. You may sleep somewhere else.”

After she shooed them out the door, she looked at Nejra. She turned her eyes to the ceiling and silently begged Nejra’s mother for forgiveness. She knew what was likely coming, and that she was powerless to stop it. She hoped Sayid had a plan to take Nejra away from here, but she knew she couldn’t participate.

“Nejra,” she said quietly, walking over to the bed. “She’s crying because she’s hungry.”

“Already?” Nejra said, looking up at her with wide eyes.

“Yes, she seems to have a big appetite already. Let me show you how to feed her.”

After a few tries, Yasmine latched on successfully. Nejra laughed at the very active way she was eating. As she leaned down to lightly kiss the top of Yasmine’s head, she noticed a few red hairs. She covered the baby quickly with the blanket so Mrs. Hadzic couldn’t see, but she already knew it was too late. Yasmine had the fairest skin she had ever seen—it was almost translucent. She and Amar had olive skin. There was no way they could have made this baby.

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