Every night since their bond of marriage, he had awoken for a few fateful moments to find her slumbering form curled in his arms.
For each occasion he was pulled from sleep, he had inhaled her sweet scent from her nightly baths. He knows her daily routine, her mannerisms endless with the capability to fascinate him. His mind is comforted with the confirmation of her affection.
His devotion was spread to the unborn child forming within her womb. Alongside his bride's presence, the baby stood as the most valuable and vital treasure connected to his survival as a moral man.
Without Nyota, he was nothing. The world around him was a pile of debris and bones in the aftermath of destruction.
He had the same nightmare whilst holding his beloved wife in arms, the images and sounds so vivid that he feared becoming insane…
.
.
Nyota holding their lifeless child, gasping for air in futile gulps, her body shaking in a way where she obviously had no control over her movements.
He was only able to witness her helpless condition, blood leaking from her wound signifying a devastating Caesarean section.
Curse him, he was powerless to move a muscle and aid them. Only Khan could cause her harm by simply being in her proximity.
A muted scream erupted from the sweet lips of the woman who had tamed the monster inside him with only her daring compassion and sheer foolish bravery.
She continued her silent wail of agony, clutching the evidently dead infant as the blood cascaded down from the sliced open stomach to leak down into a pool forming amidst her white nightgown of purity.
Was it possible for a man to die of guilt and helplessness?
.
.
His eyes shot open, the veins behind them pulsating inside his pounding head. He loathed feeling weak and human…
Khan managed to catch his breath as the growls invaded his throat before he could think, unveiling the predator's revival for the briefest of moments.
He turned to Nyota's side of their bed, expecting to see her still sleeping, blissful in her quiet exhaustion of carrying his child for the seventh out of nine presumed months.
The sheets were bare from her lying within them, pulled back along with the dent in her pillow signaling that she had risen recently.
His consciousness still shaken from his demonic dream, Khan rose from the bed to locate his wandering love.
He possessed some idea of where she had gone, walking through the spacious, yet modest house he had constructed for her on the shore of the Yorkshire beach. When they had escaped the chaos of London, Nyota had wanted to live somewhere peaceful and secluded.
Since she had desired it, he had given it to her. Every painful callous and scrape of blood upon his hands was well worth her happiness.
Khan walked along the sand, his perceptive sight catching the lithe figure of his wife. A gentle breeze caressed his burnt facial features as he approached her from behind, as quiet as a sleek puma stalking the graceful deer. The comparison left a bittersweet chuckle within him, but he held it back, focusing on the present time.
He watched her ebony locks of long hair float in the warm summer wind. Her natural beauty never failed to make him feel like the lowliest creature, undeserving from the moment he had first saw the dancer girl whose skin color made her stand out.
Pushing away those terrible memories of nearly destroying the both of them with his idolization of Nyota, he saw as she turned her head away from the moonlit waves. She sensed his presence behind her without him making a sound. The moonlight further illuminated the couple, the radiance of their gazes directed at one another emanating as they each deduced the other's emotion.
"You had the nightmare again." She said it in a tone indicating her reading of his thoughts.
He only nodded, his eyes glancing down at her rounded abdomen beneath the sleeping gown of heavenly ivory. Khan remained silent.
"Everything will be fine, my love." Nyota used his usual term of endearment in her moment of reassurance for him.
When he looked up to her face, embedded with concern and weariness in her eyes, her arms enfolded around his neck, the tips of her bare toes digging into the moist sand to embrace her statuesque husband. In return, his own arms cradled her waist and upper back, his long fingers stroking her hair. Whether it was to comfort him or Nyota, he had little idea.
"I cannot lose my family, Nyota." His deep whisper of vulnerable confession caused his heart to bleed with foreshadowing grief. Continuing to keep her close to him, Khan's lips marked her swan-like neck with a feather light kiss, as if her beautiful skin were as fragile as a butterfly's wing.
He lost her once. He would never lose her again…
"You never will, in any way." One of her arms unwound from her shoulders to allow her hand to stroke his malformed cheek, her fingertips savoring the strange feel of his disfigurement. "I'm not going anywhere."
A rare smile of relief brightened his typically somber expression of serious control of his emotions. No other words were needed between them. They were only syllables and terms invented to communicate by those who knew little about the people around them.
Bending down, Khan lifted her up in a swift but careful motion, minding her condition. Nyota could not help but laugh in a volume only her husband could hear as he carried her back to their home and back to their safe bed.
They had both been through Hell and back to understand their feelings for one another and their child would only serve as a reminder of their success in learning to love one another.
The last thing they both felt before falling asleep was the baby kicking under their palms, wishing the two lovers a serene night.
AN: I'm sorry if I seem rusty with my writing. It's been months since I've had energy to write anything worthwhile…