A Wife for the Surgeon Sheikh

A FIRE IN a market on the edge of town brought in enough patients to keep all the staff busy for the next week, and although she didn’t see him, Lauren knew Malik had been working every night because she saw his writing on the charts.

He sounded so tired she slipped one hand out of his grasp to put it around his shoulders and pull him close.

‘I’m coffeed out,’ he muttered. ‘May never touch the stuff again.’

‘You’d be better off grabbing a sandwich—which your mother’s staff do very well—and getting some sleep,’ she said, concern for him evident in her eyes.
‘I will sleep when we have eaten,’ he promised. ‘I will even send for another car to take you home, so I am not tempted to do other than sleep should I go first to your place.’

‘But you are also here,’ he said, ‘and that, for me right now, is more than food or sleep.’

‘So you have offered to stay with her while he eats?’ she guessed. ‘In spite of the fact you’ve hardly slept in more than a week, and are probably in need of feeding yourself!’

‘Of course you could. You might have ended up even more tired than you are, though I doubt that’s possible, but I’ve done nothing more than any nurse would do. And we’ve got through it, haven’t we?’

And look at you—when did you last sleep? You can’t go on like this, you’ll be ill yourself. I know the hospital is still coping with all the usual cases as well as the measles outbreak, but you need a break.’

He’d looked surprised to see her, yet his tired face had softened into a smile.

And although she could see he was exhausted, the smile he gave her as he agreed was warm enough to lift her spirits, to the extent that when they returned to the house she suggested they drop Aneesha off.